After my mother died, I would dream about her often. In my dreams she was always alive. Sometimes, I would think it was odd that she was there and sometimes it was as if she had never gone. There was never anything truly extraordinary about most of these dreams. They usually dealt with the regular and the mundane. We would sometimes fight over laundry or be at one of my sister’s cheerleading meets. I would wake up after dreams that we fought in feeling hollow and sad. Why would I spend those moments with my mother arguing? Why didn’t I understand that it was special that she was there? Dreams are odd that way. You have no control over them. I wish I could script them before I fell asleep. They would have a far sweeter end.
One evening a few years ago, I had a dream or sometimes I wonder if it was something else entirely. In my dream, the phone rang. I picked up the phone to say hello and it was my mother. She started her conversation with me as she had so many in the past; just jumping directly in topic without even saying hello or asking what I was doing. I don’t recall what it was that she was saying to me, all I knew was this time it felt real. This time I knew that she should not be on the other end of the phone. “Mommy?” At 30, the age that I was when she died, I still called my mother mommy. Her voice softened, “Yes Baby.” She still called me her baby. “You died”, I cried. She knew. I spoke to my mother on that phone that evening and told her how much I missed her and loved her. It was the first dream that I had of her where I knew that I needed to seize every moment with her. I wish it had not been just a phone call. I wish that I could have given her just one hug or one kiss, but to hear her voice and to know that a miracle was happening, if only in my dream was amazing to me. The specifics of that dream have gotten hazy but I can still remember the feeling. I woke that morning with a smile and also some tears. I hope that we can speak soon. See you in my dreams again, mama.