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I dreamed of you today . . .

I dreamed of you today . . .

Janie, I saw you today. You were seated in a room and you stood and walked across the room and I followed. You were wearing black slacks, low-heeled black shoes and a red shirt, and you were carrying the black purse that Kelley brought from New York, and as always you looked exquisite.

I stood and followed you, but I awoke after you had taken only a few steps toward the door of the room. I don’t know where we were, and I can’t describe the surroundings because my attention was focused on you. Although I was asleep, I knew that I was asleep, and I was horribly disappointed when I awakened so soon after you appeared.

I saw you at 1:40 PM today on Sunday, the second day of January, 2010. This is the forty-fifth day since you left me, and I have prayed on every one of those days for you to come to me in my dreams, and today you answered my prayers. You came to me, only for a few seconds but you came to me. I had dozed off in the recliner in our den for a brief few seconds and you came to me.

I picture you in my mind throughout every day and into the evening, continuing on until sleep overtakes me—not continuously, of course, but sporadic through the entire day whether I am sitting, standing, walking or driving. My thoughts of you do not in any way distract from my daily activities—they seem to blend in perfectly, and my thoughts will always be of you. You were and still are such an important part of me that my thoughts will always keep you in my daily life, even though you are not with me.

Those incredibly brief seconds that I was with you today sparkle in my memory with the glitter of fine diamonds and glisten with the sheen of dew drops on tulips. I will keep them close in memory and bring them out from time to time to admire them and keep your memory strong, but I yearn for more—I’ve seen the previews of coming attractions—now let me see the feature-length film.

I love you more today than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.

Sleep well in heaven, my darling.

Mike

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Posted by on January 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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A third letter to my wife in el cielo . .

Dear Janie,

This afternoon I dozed off while watching television in our den and I awoke with a start, looked around the room and said in a loud voice, “Where did you go? It was just like all the many times over the years when I would become preoccupied in reading or I would be snoozing and when I noticed your absence, whether by awakening abruptly or looking up from my reading, I would shout, “Where are you?” and you would answer that you were in the kitchen or that you were going to the bathroom or just returning from the bathroom, or something on the order of “I can’t do anything without you wondering where I am!”

The feeling of your presence in the den this afternoon was so strong, so powerful that it took me several seconds to realize that I had awakened to my new world, a world without you, the world that was created when you left me.

Perhaps I dreamed that you were here, but I have no recollection of dreaming. I have prayed every day since you left for you to come to me in a dream. I’ve prayed to Jesus and Mary and God and to all the apostles that I could remember, and to the gods of other religions—except to the god of those that would seek to destroy us and our nation.

In the thirty days since you left me I can recall dreaming only twice. Once I dreamed that Cindy and I were on a trip out to the southwest, shooting photography in every direction, and the other time involved a cat. I remember no details other than that there was a cat in my dream.

I want to dream. I need to dream. I need to see you in my dreams, to see that everything is all right with you and that you are safe and happy in your new world. I pray every night for you to come to me. I pray for other things and for other people, of course, but my thoughts of you and my longing for you are always uppermost in my mind, in my thoughts and in my prayers in all my waking hours.

Yes, I know that’s selfish. I probably should be praying for miraculous findings in the search for curing the diseases that shorten our lives, and for world peace and for the abolishment of hunger and suffering among third-world countries. I suppose I’ll get around to that when my prayers for you to come to me in my dreams are answered.

As for my awakening from sleep this afternoon and calling  for you, this is what I believe—I believe that you were in the den, that your spirit, your immortal soul, was there and in my dream, and although I was nestled deeply in the arms of Morpheus—asleep—I was aware in my subconscious mind that you were there, and that’s why I called out for you when I awoke.

I realize that all my erudite readers are familiar with the fact that Morpheus is the god of dreams in Greek mythology, a benevolent supernatural being between mortals and gods, a being that can take any human form and appear in dreams. Armed with that knowledge I do not find it necessary to explain the term, but a treatise and a painting of Morpheus may be found  here. The 1811 painting is Morpheus, Phantasos and Iris (Morpheus is the one reclining).

I did find it necessary to write and tell you that I was aware of your presence this afternoon. I thank you and I love you for being there for me, and I welcome you back whether I am awake, snoozing in the recliner or deep asleep in our bedroom.

I love you more today than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.

Sleep well in heaven, my darling.

Mike

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2010 in education, funeral, Humor, marriage

 

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