Are The Dreams Healing Me Or Is It Something Else?

I’ve been having strange dreams the past few nights.  I don’t really remember them, but I remember some things about them.  One theme that has been present in all of them is Grubby… finally.

A year ago, he rarely visited me in a dream.  I was so mad at him.  I just wanted to see him.  Everyone said that he would when I was ready.  I was ready then, or so I thought.  Maybe it was true, I really wasn’t. 

I’m not sure what I believe about the dream phenomenon.  Some people say that when someone visits you in your dreams, it’s because they miss you or want you to come to them soon.  I hope that if that’s the case, it’s just that Grubby misses me.  I’m not quite ready to go to him, but that’s a different discussion altogether.  Some people say that the presence of someone we’ve lost in our dreams is their way of checking in on us.  For me, it has felt like this the past few nights.

First, I dreamt that I was planning a trip, or I was on a trip, or I was moving; all I know was that it had to do with Italy.  This isn’t surprising since I had just been talking about what I would plan if I were going to Italy for the first time for a week or so.  What was surprising was that, in the dream, I was waiting for Grubby.  I mean, he was in the dream, but I was waiting for him to come home to go on the trip.  I told someone in the dream that I was waiting for him, and then, I distinctly remember knowing that he wasn’t coming home; that he was dead. 

Last night, he came to see me again.  This time, we had a conversation about life after suicide: what I saw and what I heard when it happened, what it felt like, and what it’s been like for me since.  I told him what I heard and what I saw.  I told him how much it hurt and how sad I am.  I told him how hard this past year has been for me – how I’ve screamed and cried, how I’ve been afraid to even leave my house, how my give-a-fuck meter has been pegged and I’m all out of fucks to give – all of it.  In the dream, Grubby said he was sorry that I had to see that, that he was sorry that he hurt me so badly, and that he never meant for it to be that way.  He told me he loved me. 

Now, I don’t know much about dream analysis, and I have no idea what this all means.  What I do know is that for a couple of nights now, I’ve gotten to talk to Grubby in my dreams, I’ve gotten to see him, and I’ve woken up okay – not great, not on top of the world – but okay.  I know that I don’t want the dreams to end because for those REM cycles, I am whole again.  In Japan, when something like a vase breaks, they fill in the cracks with gold to put it back together again.  It is never the same, but it is whole and a different version of itself.  Now that I am awake, I am okay, if slightly cracked and dented.  Maybe I too am beginning to be put back together into something resembling a new, whole me.