Have you ever woke from a dream feeling still caught up in the moment? Your heart still racing? This indeed was the start to my day.
The dream, like a movie, felt so real when my alarm sounded cutting the scene that I didn't want to end. The story line . . . Josh had returned from the dead. He was there with my friends Nathan and Alicia, acting different but walking, talking, laughing and wearing his favorite blue cardigan. We were in some apartment and heading to the doctor to figure out how this happened and if he was ok upon his return. On the side, I was trying to stealthily call my boyfriend to let him know about the awkward surprise that had just occurred. Josh knew something was up. I was torn. This wasn't suppose to happen.
Waking from this detailed dream, my heart was pounding and my body tense. I knew it wasn't real, but I still had to take a moment to convince myself. And although, I could almost explain why I had this dream, based on the days' activities* – it was still jarring.
Thinking on this more, I realize that this dream reflects my heart and mind. A heart and mind that is still wounded and torn. A heart that loves my late spouse dearly, but one still working on navigating new parts of life and trusting the process a little more. A heart that wonders if the hurt will ever truly disappear.
Once again, I land on the truth that grief is complicated. It’s not something that can easily be erased or "gotten over." It takes root deep within - even at times causing one to dream the impossible. It stirs up hope for what could never be and at times has you still wishing you could have changed the ending in some way or another.
Sharing this might seem goofy, but I hope in doing so that someone feels encouraged - or slightly less crazy. I am an advocate for talking about grief - even the weird parts. Both our unique tories and grief are layered with complications and even strangeness (for sure!).
It’s been almost 3 years since Josh passed away (on Sept 30, 2019) and here I am still having random emotionally-packed dreams, and the weight of him not being part of my daily story resonates. Yes, I can go about most days without crying, I can sit at a table alone and feel fine. I can even lean into my new surroundings with a bit more confidence, and try new silly things, but the undercurrent remains. Don’t let me fool you with my shenanigans and adventures, just because I’m doing new things doesn’t mean my late love doesn’t cross my mind in someway or another every single day. I both love the fact that he is so woven into my life and hate it as I wish it wasn't so distracting.
As I drift to sleep at the end of this day, the intense feelings of last night's vivid dream have faded and another day comes to a close. I wonder if I'll have another jarring dream tonight or catch a glimpse of the person I once knew so well - who knows.
One thing I do know, is that either way God is with me (and you). That's a comforting thought to rest my head on.
*Things that explain last nights dream (kind of) if I go down the logic track...
- Eating lunch with Josh’s mom and grandma that day, it being September, plus Nathan’s birthday the day before, and last, sitting and watching couples dance when someone sang “The Dance” at open mic (I attended solo) - which reminded me of when Josh and I heard the actual writer of the song, Tony Arata, perform it at the Bluebird Cafe in Nashville (picture provided). And the opening lines of that song ...
On the memory of
The dance we shared
'Neath the stars above
For a moment
All the world was right
But how could I have known
That you'd ever say goodbye . . .
Hi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer.