For the last few months (three, to be exact. January 4th was exactly three months since Caden died) I have been working myself feverishly to keep my mind busy. I have looked for ways to serve others, sewing projects, cleaning projects, and of course Christmas. I have worked myself to exhaustion. But I was always so hesitant to close my eyes, because when my mind is quiet, that is when anxiety starts; hence the sleep aid that I was prescribed-- I asked for something that would knock me out. It has been working well. I can see that sleep at night helps me process things more in the day. I can see that it is helping day-by-day towards coming off of it as planned. I am grateful.
However, with this wonderful, medicated sleep comes dreams. To be clear: I have always been one to have very vivid dreams that feel so real, and remember them clearly the next day-- it is not only medication that brings on dreams. Sure, there have been dreams about the horrors that we've witnessed (one was a dream where we met him in ICU with a fresh, massive scar across his tiny belly), because I have dreamt of Caden every. single. night, but there have also been many dreams like the one I woke from this morning: fun, laugh-till-you-cry, don't want to wake dreams with Caden. It was so much fun. It felt so, so real. It made me forget. Until I woke and the first thought was: "It was just a dream. Caden is never coming back." And my heart breaks all over again. Day after day.
Dreams are not the only place to be stuck in a nightmare. Sometimes reality is a nightmare.
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