to dream perchance to live

Every now and then, on those afternoons I don't have the boys, I indulge in a Sunday nap. I stretch out on my couch by the big front window and turn my face toward the light. I cover up in my soft sherpa blanket. The cat usually comes and lays at my feet. Soft classical music plays from my computer. My house is clean and quiet. And...here's my favorite part: I dream.

I used to dream all the time. I loved my dreams. But now, I'm generally so exhausted when I sleep that I have no recollection of thinking anything else but zzzzzzzzz.

Sunday afternoons though...they were made for dreaming.

I think sometimes God uses those times to talk to me in pictures. I pay attention.

So, this last Sunday, I dreamt my mom was still alive. She came to pick up the boys for a day in the park. I was helping her buckle them all into carseats (yes, even my nearly 14 year old) , then waved good bye as they pulled away, happy they were getting to spend time with her.

After they had driven out of sight, I came back into the house and (just like I was actually doing) I laid down on the couch and went to sleep. Only then a man came and lay next to me, facing inward, toward me. He reached his hand out and placed it on my cheek. "I'm here. I'm real. We're happy," he said. "Please don't forget about me." I reached over and mimicked his action, placing my hand on his cheek. I could feel his skin, warm  and a little stubbley under my palm.  "You exist?," I asked, "You really, really exist?" Except now (in the dream and in actuality) my eyes were closed and I couldn't pull them open. I wanted so badly to see the face of this man I felt so connected to. Struggling, I forced them open for one fraction of a second and I saw him--just his eyes, looking right into mine in the kind of way that seemed to  be trying to make me understand. He nodded yes, in answer to my questions about his existence. Then my eyes closed again.

Time forwarded and it was Halloween. The boys and I were going to the house of this man I now knew I loved. We were going there to trick-or-treat. He opened the door and I held open my bag. Instead of candy, he produced a small, velvet-covered box and dropped it in. I couldn't stop my tears. I reached into the bag and pulled out the box, then went to look into the face of the man I would spend the rest of my life with. I expected to see someone like this:

But instead, I saw this...

Yup. God decided to end my lovely dream with the idea of me marrying Chewbacca. I then awoke to my stomach growling very loudly. It sounded like a wookie.

So maybe that whole dream came because I was visiting my mom's grave that afternoon. And the carseats because I'm always worried about my children's safety. And maybe the man had Brandon Flowers eyes because I've been re-listening to a lot of The Killers music lately. And maybe the trick-or-treat thing came about because that's the way I had  girlishly fantasized about Dr. Yummy asking me to marry him. And maybe my stomach growling primally really was the cause of the whole Chewbacca thing.

That all makes sense, psychologically speaking.


But the part where I said "you exist?" and he nodded, and his eyes held so tight to mine, and his hand on my face. I can't forget that. All the rest of the day, I tried to forget and I couldn't. So, God--thanks for that. Whether or not it ever comes to pass, it felt so wonderful and so real at the time. I desperately needed a moment of connection and protection and intimacy like that. And thanks, too, for the laughs with everything else.  You really are the best. I'm sorry if I limit Your power in my life through my fear and perceived self-strength. I'm sorry if I complain too much about the way you operate. I'm sorry for being so impatient. I'm sorry for getting angry at you in my ignorance. I'll try and be still and let you do your thing. Try ;).