The days since my cathartic emotional outburst last week have been busy and I have logged many Delta SkyMiles, seen dear friends and had many work meetings. It has been days filled with being “on” and placing industry at the forefront as Julia was in the care of my parents in Tallahassee. But nights…the nights are filled with dreams vivid and intense. All of the sorrows and heartfelt hopes locked in the secret room of retrospect animate my slumber and fill it with the deepest desires that I have. Those thoughts that I cannot bring myself to voice in the daylight are brought to life behind fluttering eyelashes and they comfort and console me.
What is it about dreams? They allow us to see things we can view no longer and hear the voices that are sadly quiet. In the past few days I wrestled angels reminiscent of Jacob wresting the Angel in the Book of Genesis; I have time traveled and in traveling to the past I knew how to change the course of what happened in our life. In my dream we were a carefree young family and has blissful ignorance of the fragility of life. As I woke in my hotel room and realized that indeed it was 2014 and not the circa-2012 that I had dreamed about I looked out the window to view the most beautiful heavenly sunrise, soft pink and orange through rippling white clouds. It looked so celestial that I could feel my heart swelling inside of me. I felt as though I was glimpsing Heaven in a way I do not often see. The light was breathtaking to behold from my 10th Floor window and though I could not change where I was waking up, I was content.
Last night I spoke with Wesley in my dreams. Those are the dreams I most ardently wish for; to see Wesley and feel him near me. He called my cell phone and upon my answering Wesley said, “Hello, love.” It was his voice, deep and lilting and I heard it. Heard the cadence and rhythm. We talked of how much we loved each other and I fervently said how much I missed him. I asked Wesley how long he could talk to me and he spoke no more. I looked as the seconds on the phone increased as the phone line appeared active but I could hear him no longer. I helplessly looked at the phone pleading for him to answer, but he could not. Just like in life, he cannot speak to me every time I call his name but the line is open; he can hear me. I have to listen in a different way, and there he will be.
In dreams I’m calm and at peace for the most part. The anxiety that is so a part of my daily life is gone and I’m calm. I’m buoyant in my naivety and even though it is merely in the wee small hours of the morning, I’m centered. I’m reminded of the lilting voice of Cinderella surrounded by helpful avian and rodent companions that “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes When You’re Fast Asleep…” I feel that melody and lyrics are especially apropos as she sings about a grieving heart and the virtue of believing that wishes come true. I think they do. I wish hope against hope for impossible things. I want Wesley to come back through my front door at the end of the work day, I want to see him walking up the sidewalk with his brown corduroy jacket over him arm, briefcase in hand before it rests on the bench in our foyer. I can see it in my minds-eye clearly but it will not happen and in my rational mind I know it. But my heart yearns to find a way to make it so. In dreams Wesley is as real as he ever was and so I look forward and pray for dreams to connect us again, if only for one night.