I dreamt about my Mum last night, again.
In my dreams, she's always weak and ill but beautiful and warm and loving. Not usually 100% lucid. I always I kind of know she's dead, or at least know she will be soon. Sometimes she knows too and sometimes she has no idea, and I don't want to tell her. Last night I had to get her from somewhere and she sort of collapsed onto my lap, but it was ok. I squatted there with my darling mother on my lap and let her hand trail in the sand. It was sand like at Avalon, Kirks Point, all crushed shells. Pretty and soft.
She's always taller in my dreams, like when she was young and didn't have osteoporosis. Love emenates from her and from me too, for her. She's always calm, or contented and quietly (as opposed to loudly) happy.
It kills me over again, but it's always so nice to see her, I miss her so much. I'd dream of her every night if I could. Might have to make a habit of the smoked salmon and twisties late night snack.
1 comment:
Lovely post. I tend to dream of parents that way too -- bigger, as they were when I was a child. The other thing I notice in my dreams is that the setting of my home os almost always my parents home where I grew up, even though I'm now 50 years old and I left there when I was 16.
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