Total and complete elation! Complete and total devastation.
In my dreams, there’s a lot of confusion and wonder about where Jeremy is, what he’s doing and who he’s with. We’re not sure why he’s not with us, but keep a constant search (in the midst of other nightmarey scenarios where I’m trying to protect the kids from aliens, intruders, the government and even wild animals). Eventually, he shows up. On a stretcher. Or in his casket.
Then, the interrogation begins:
- You do know you left us, right?
- We had a funeral! We buried you! How can you be here?
- How many times is this going to happen?
- Why can’t you just stay here?
- What should we do when your doctors find out?
- Why are you here???
I’m not recalling any answered questions by Jeremy, in my recurring dreams. But last night? Last night was different.
We (you know, the collective of all of us, possibly including you) were outside a large metal building mourning his death. A Sonic carhop enters the scene. There were motorcycles, maybe even biker dudes. Some people were laughing, remembering Jeremy and his Jeremy ways. Some of us were frozen still. In shock. Not talking. Too sad, too much.
From the back, in struts my husband and Jonathan and Caedmon’s dad. Cowboy hat, 5 o’clock shadow, bright eyes and his swagger in full glory. I kinda think he had a stalk of wheat dangling on his lips. He was wearing Wranglers with a torn pocket and a turquoisey blue tshirt. His square-toed boots, a worn brown leather belt and all of the confidence in the world were his perfect accessories.
No one even missed a beat. He came up to me, put his arm around me, and I declared at an oddly normal volume, “We’re ok. It’s going to be alright”. Everyone cheered, smiled and dispersed. Nothing was wrong anymore. The kids were thrilled, yet none of us acted surprised he showed up.This morning, when I woke up to my blaring alarm, I was totally and completely elated. Then I was completely and totally devastated. All within half a second of waking up.