Happy Birthday to my best friend in Heaven. She would’ve been 70 today. I think of her often, especially when I look around my house which has so many reminders of her.
Happy Birthday to my best friend in Heaven. She would’ve been 70 today. I think of her often, especially when I look around my house which has so many reminders of her. From the needle points, to photos, to gifts, and everything in-between. She was so crafty and an amazing carpenter–just a most talented person. Every day I am reminded of her when I go into my office where I have an actual desk she made for me. It would be impossible to go anywhere in my house without seeing Janet. I talk to her often and ask that she visit me in my dreams being careful to remind her not to appear at the foot of my bed lest I see her sooner than I was expecting. I have so many birthday cards and letters from when I was in camp (before texts and email). These are precious to me and I have saved them in a cardboard box. I sometimes pull them out and read them and I am immediately transported to a different time and place, where I reminisce and laugh about all the fun and crazy times we shared. I often find myself quoting Janet to other people because she was a very wise person. To say I miss her is an understatement. She was my “person” and I could call her and talk for hours about what was going on. Sometimes I’d call her for something serious but we ended up laughing hysterically about some inside joke. She was simply the best of the best and I loved her. I will see you again someday and it will seem like no time has passed at all.
Someone just sat on the edge of my bed. I know this because I can feel the depression of the mattress but I don’t know who it could be considering I am alone. I am paralyzed by fear and afraid to open my eyes because I just know it is a ghost—a friendly ghost, like Casper I hope. But I am also incapable of moving my limbs as if I am pinned down and I have a sense of helplessness. This is so vivid that it almost seems real, but it is a dream—a dream that I want desperately to wake up from.
Then, as if by magic I am awake and not afraid at all. I am with a friend, telling her of my harrowing experience with the supernatural being in my house. But this is different—somehow I innately know that I am actually still dreaming, although in this dream, the fear is gone and I feel serene.
Suddenly I am aware of a newfound power where I can control the course and temperament of my dream and I can have anything I want in this alternate reality. What a freeing feeling I have, for in this dream, I get to have do-overs—my son is mentally healthy, I am happily married, and I am young again. I can fly if I want, why not, this is my dream—in my new world anything is possible. I have no more money issues. I am enjoying the best day of my life and I can summon up friends and loved ones who have passed over. I am outside in a beautiful field taking pictures that automatically transform into gorgeous images right in front of me. I am having the best food and sex ever and know this is the way it will remain. I am joyous and free, oh yes, I am happy for once.
But then the theme of the dream dramatically changes, as if something ominous and vile is inserting itself into my perfect dream. The dream is gradually becoming dark again, and I am hearing thunder in the distance. My brain desperately wants me to continue dreaming but it is no use—the booming thunderclaps become louder and louder, making it impossible to maintain my sleep. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, I am thrust into total consciousness. I lay there, realizing that I am now awake, seeing the lit up room from the lightning bolts. It is morning and I reluctantly get out of bed with a heavy heart. The depression is palpable because this time I know for sure, I am back in the real world and my lovely dream is over. I desperately want to return to the utopia of my subconscious—maybe I can go back tonight, but I know it is gone and reality is back.
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