This has been a morning of contemplation and explanation; things that have escaped me previously seem now to make more sense… pain exists, and being pain it is not quantifiable. Would I want it to be?
Last night as I turned off my reading lamp, I turned to Etina and said “Babes, I’m going to dream about you tonight.” which earned the response “Hmm, okay.” from a very tired spouse. The reason for this was that I had gotten a little tired (both physically and mentally) of the countless ‘Mum’ dreams recently, usually, if not always, ending in death and was trying to force myself into initiating a dream of another topic.
Well it worked to an extent, as instead of my mum dying in said dream, Etina did, yes due to the dreaded cancer. Mum was also dying of cancer but was able to comfort me in my grief over Etina (wow that one hurt last night!).
Upon waking I had one of my recurrent morning surprises of a split inside top lip (right in the middle) and have now been able to backtrack and see that this tends to happen when I have had a dream of upsetting nature (the more tragic, the worse the split).
Things make more sense today but I’m not so sure I’ve made any major steps forward. I have to bear in mind that 26th December (Mum’s birthday) and 15th January (her death) are just around the corner. My guess is I can deal with everything much better after those dates… for now it’s time to accept and embrace the grief.
On another note, this new story is one that is really plaguing me without letting me write it. Have any of you ever had a short story that begs to be written but at the same time won’t allow you to put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard until you’ve pretty much got it right in your head? How did it manifest itself for you and what was the end result (I know you know exactly what I’m talking about here eneit with your recent tale!)?