Sometimes talking & getting things off your chest truly is the best way to start feeling better about whatever is troubling you. All it takes is that first step in getting help, and it gets easier & easier. Continue reading
…do NOT bring me a dream…
At least not for a few days. This sleep deprived mama’s brain needs a break from the terrible dreams.
This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but for some reason (my luck, maybe?), it never saved. So I’m starting over. It needs to be out there, especially since I removed my FB post about it. Why? Long story short, I repeatedly say the wrong things on social media. More specifically FB. And I’ll leave it at that.
The dream I had the night before last had me in such a terrible state, I almost called for an appointment. I guess a professional might say I’m still grieving the loss of my parents – mom in 2011, and dad in 2014. The latter was sudden, and very traumatic for me and my older brothers.
Since my dad’s passing, I’ve had frequent dreams about deceased loved ones. But when they’re in my dreams, there are usually just one or two making separate appearances.
The most recent dream, however, left me such a mess, I’m still recovering.
I basically dreamed I was back in my parents’ house. They were having a huge party. Everyone was formally dressed, but it wasn’t a wedding or anything formal. It was just a regular party. But not only were my parents in the dream, so were my grandparents, 2 deceased uncles, a deceased aunt, and a deceased family friend.
To make matters worse, everyone was dressed in black, which led me to believe the party was a post funeral type of thing. Nearby neighbors kept bringing food, and there was soft, unidentifiable music playing in the distance.
One of my aunts was at a table with my grandmother, reviewing some literature about a trip to Las Vegas. My one uncle was at another table with my dad and grandfather, telling outrageous jokes. My mom and another aunt were in the kitchen planning another party for the future – which makes me afraid to sleep.
I don’t want to dream about another one of these parties. I can’t handle seeing so many deceased loved ones in the same dream at the same time. It nearly broke me, and I’m pretty damn broken already.
Today, after three and a half hours of sleep, espresso will be my best friend, until my heart decides to say screw this, and sends me to the hospital. If I go back to bed, I might miss out on something I’ve been desperately waiting for in the past few months.