In dreams is where they find me

(written Wednesday)

I've been dreaming more about Craig and my mom of late. There is no rhyme or reason to it, no pattern apart from perhaps a continuance of an earlier thought from the day. Monday night, I dreamt they were fish in a fish tank after spending quite some time watching fake and real fish swim about while waiting at the vet. Sammie has an infinitely impressive way of making life needlessly more "exciting". In what should have been a "walk in the park" for a cat that has been confined in a tent for 6 weeks, he defied all odds and came away from his 6-week checkup in a new blue splint, complete with a cat and a moon decal. For three hours, I sat and watched little puppies pass on through and 'Nemo' finally find his father (or vice versa). Finally, they pulled me back to show me Sammie's latest x-rays and the pins that had somehow pulled from his bone. Awesome. Sparing Sam and my pocket book another surgery, they compromised with a sassy new splint, one month's confinement (in smaller quarters...what, like a shoe box??), and a new x-ray in 6 weeks with the possibility of another surgery.

Instead of discovering just how many ways there are to skin a cat (nooo, never!), Mom and Craig entered my dreams as "Finding Nemo" fish. They were relatively healthy despite having cancer (even in my dream), and had healthy fins and fish bodies. The next night, I dreamt we were raking leaves from our roof when a pile of wet leaves morphed into Craig's talking head. There he was, smiling with his familiar sassy, fun-loving expression.  I remember feeling a sense of comfort, wanting to hold onto the moment, as well as panic for wanting to find a cure. Before they passed, I would have similar restless dreams of wheeling Craig and our mom from hospital to hospital trying to find a cure or at least a "chance".

Their appearances frequently vacillate between times when they were both healthy to times just before they passed. The dreams are random, inconsistent, and aren't always pleasant. What is constant is a palpable and somewhat disturbing sense of conflict, a tug-of-war between wishing so desperately that they are still alive, and knowing deep down that they aren't. Somehow, this nightmarish reality creeps into even the most pleasant of dreams. It's disturbing and the uncertainty of knowing how, in dreams, I'll be reminded of our unbearable loss builds a certain reluctance to fall asleep.

Still, the dreams remind me of one of Craig's friends (and now our friend), and her beautiful tradition she shares with her 5-year old niece.

---"Lily and I have a tradition of visiting each other in our dreams. Before she goes to sleep we decide on things to do. Tonight we decided we would go to Australia and see platypuses (platypusi?). Then Lily decided "we should visit your friend Craig and his family . . . what are their names again, Aunt Kim". So don't be surprised when you go to sleep tonight if you have two extra visitors in your dreams..."---

In peaceful dreams or in nightmares, as long as Mom and Craig find me, they are sweet dreams to me. ~E