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It feels to me like the worst part about my mother passing away are the dreams.
At least once, sometimes up to three or four times a week since she died, I've been having dreams about her. And they always follow the same pattern.
We're doing something that we did in real life—sometimes it's driving, sometimes we're watching Supernatural, sometimes I'm telling her about a great book I read or we're going out to see a movie—
And I'm always, always struck with the realization that she's dead and that we can't be doing this, and then I feel this crushing intense guilt, and then I wake up.
Always.
I don't really know what this says about me. I'm just so tired of dreaming.
At least once, sometimes up to three or four times a week since she died, I've been having dreams about her. And they always follow the same pattern.
We're doing something that we did in real life—sometimes it's driving, sometimes we're watching Supernatural, sometimes I'm telling her about a great book I read or we're going out to see a movie—
And I'm always, always struck with the realization that she's dead and that we can't be doing this, and then I feel this crushing intense guilt, and then I wake up.
Always.
I don't really know what this says about me. I'm just so tired of dreaming.