>Dreams

>About once a month now, I have a variation on the dream I had last night. It always starts out sad, remembering Cherie is gone–last nights’ was one of the saddest, as Jayne and I were driving somewhere together, and I clearly felt a large empty hole where Cherie should have been sitting, to make it the three of us. I remember thinking about that feeling for a long time–rational, reflective thoughts that don’t often make their way into my dreams. Thoughts about how it would never be the same, there would always be that loss.

Then a bit later, Cherie came up and greeted us. I was pretty freaked out, but she explained something about some serum this guy discovered, and they had applied it to her buried body just in time (apparently, a few months was the limit to revive someone). She said she wasn’t sure it would last, she might only live again for a week or a month, but she was glad to have more time with us. It was amazing, and awesome. I was telling her about the playlist I had come up with after she’d died, all our old high school and college favorites, but those with lyrics that had become particularly meaningful to me after she died. I remember thinking how wonderful it was that I could share this with her now, how she totally appreciated the humor and sadness of it, and how I had been longing to share it with her before. When I woke up, I thought it was odd that I came up with that playlist idea, until I finally remembered I had done that very thing in May, a week after she died. I haven’t looked at the playlist in months; apparently only my subconscious remembered it.

Of course, when I first woke up, I had the same experience I always do with those dreams–thirty seconds of intense happiness, with a vague wondering of why I was happy. Then I realize it’s because Cherie is alive again–and immediately realize it was a dream, and plunge into sadness.

It’s been nearly six months now, and while the dreams are becoming less frequent, they’re only becoming more intense. Sometimes I feel like I want to scream out to people I barely now, in public–especially at work–that I lost one of my best friends, and it hurts so bad, and I don’t feel like messing with daily crap anymore–email, meetings, laundry, groceries. I thought it would get easier–and most days, it is. But some days, it’s harder.

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4 thoughts on “>Dreams

  1. Breenette says:

    >Praying for you girl. Grieving really is a process…hang in there, though the sense of loss and sadness doesn’t ever really go away, it does become less present in daily life and it really does get “better”. Hugs.

  2. Tihleigh says:

    >You obviously have an immense love for your friend, and as much as that’s hurting you right now, just remember that it’s that same love that made her life so much better. I know that you’re in a lot of pain right now, but every little bit of that pain represents love that she felt (and feels, depending on your beliefs, really). So just remember that every tear that you cry, every twinge that you feel represents a time that you, quite specifically you, made her smile.It’s only logical, really. 🙂

  3. Starrlett says:

    >Thanks, ladies–Tihleigh, that was beautiful. 🙂 Even knowing that Cherie is in heaven… man, it just seems like such a very long time before I get to see her again, y’know? Ah, life.

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