Lost and Found

Last night I dreamed that he was alive again.  He was alive again and I couldn’t get away from him.  And in my dream I had to pretend that I was okay with it all.  And that I was happy that he was back.  In my dream I was smiling and pretending and trying to feel happy that he was back. 

But I couldn’t speak.  Not to him. I could talk to our children but I could not talk to him.  So I just kept smiling and talking to our children and pretending I was okay with him being back.  But I could not use my voice at all.  And my writing was in my dream and I wanted to read it to him for his approval, because I knew that others really liked the words I had written.  But when I tried to read it the words would not come out.  And the words that did come out didn’t sound right.  And it was so strange to me that in my dream I knew that many people really liked my writing and that my writing was powerful and good and true, but I couldn’t read it to him.

 The brilliance of my subconscious never ceases to amaze me.  It is so smart.  It knows what is right and true.  It knows that I can speak now that he is gone.  And not that I would have ever have chosen for it to be this way, but my subconcious knows that I have found my voice again.  A voice that was lost for so long…