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I wish i could dream of her again

Discussion in 'Death' started by bellbird, Apr 11, 2018.

  1. bellbird

    bellbird Active Member

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    As the days count down to the first anniversary of my friend's death, I find myself hoping, wishing, that I could dream of her again.
    I've only ever dreamt of her 4 times since her death.
    -the first the night after she died. She was just there, surrounded by black darkness, just looking at me.
    -the second the night after her burial.
    -and the third and fourth seemingly 'random' timings.

    It hurts so bad waking up after dreaming of her, and realising that it was only a dream and knowing I'll never see her, speak to her again in person. So I know it is selfish of me to wish for this as I know it will only hurt after I wake.
    I'm not a particularly spiritual person and I know I can't control my dreams; if I could I wouldn't have had nightmares all this time. But I just hope she will visit me in my sleep again soon. I will bear the hurt of the morning after for that momentary bliss of seeing her again.
     
    littleoc, Ronin, Lena Mae and 2 others like this.
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  3. Swift

    Swift Well-Known Member

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    I'm so sorry, @bellbird

    One of the things that was hardest was losing my mate, gradually, in my dreams.
    There was nothing like the feeling when I woke to find her gone. It was like losing her all over again, except worse in a different way. Like, I was angry that I hadn't dreamt of her longer or paid more attention to the dream, or remembered it better. I was scared that each dream, aside from nightmares, would be the last time I ever *saw* her as she was when she was alive, as a physical, normal presence. Dreams are different to thoughts and photographs.
    Like, photographs are great and all, but they're a pale imitation.
    It felt like forgetting her was an insult to her memory, as a person, that I was terrified of losing. I felt like a rubbish friend and a bad mourner.
    I wrote a lot of shitty internet poetry if that's something that would help you. That was my strategy.
    8 years on, I still think about her, but I also still dream of her maybe once every few months; just her, happy and whole and all the things she was, the way I'd dream of anyone else. Last time she was annoyed at me because I'd taken the bari sax reeds out of the case and put them in my own case, and my boss, who somehow was a music teacher at our school, was demanding to know where they were. (I haven't played sax or been to school in years, and my boss is a gym junkie and a gay bar manager, not a high school music teacher).
    Jorge Luis Borges calls it 'the strange botany of dreams'.
    Forgive me, but I find myself wondering if you've talked about your grief as much (or at all) as your PTSD?
    Like, they're both awful, but differently so.
    P.S., I'll send you some of the garbage I used to call poetry if you like.
     
    littleoc likes this.
  4. bellbird

    bellbird Active Member

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    I absolutely understand this. It's comforting that you have experienced similar feelings, though I'm sorry at the same time that you have.
    When I think of her now, I can still see what it would look like if I were to meet her and she'd be there smiling, arms open to give me a hug. I can still imagine the sound her voice saying hi and saying my name. But they fade, and like you say that's terrifying.
    In my last dream of her, it was snowing and we were in a children's playground with a swing set and a see-saw. And she asked me 'if you could tell me one thing, what would you say?' I said 'I would thank you, for being such a powerful memory that even though you're not here anymore, you're still with me'. And then the dream ended. I would like to hope that the memory of her will remain that "powerful", but time can have both positive and negative implications in the 'healing process'.

    And yes, you're right. This is something I struggle with, most-likely due to the abusive relationship I've still-recently left. It was made very clear to me that I was grieving in the 'wrong way' (how can someone even accuse someone of that, when surely it's such a personal process), and there were consequences I would have to face if he even *witnessed* my grief (in whatever form it took), which maybe I will process in a trauma diary one day I'm not sure (though I don't mind that you brought it up here). Subsequently, it became habit just to bottle my grief up. Which is like perfect nightmare-fuel, right? But it seemed the better option than going through more abuse at the same time. It's something I still tend to do the majority of the time, because negative responses like that don't get over-ridden easily, even when the few others who have seen me grieving have met me with kindness and empathy since. It's definitely a work in progress.

    And yes, please, that'd be neat :)
     
    littleoc and Swift like this.
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