I had
a dream last night. It wasn’t one of those dreams I sometimes have where I
wake, heart pounding, breathless, certain that something significant just
happened. I’d been up for a few hours, read, prayed… cried. Then I remembered.
Damon
was there, sitting on my left hip. He was dressed in baby blue footie pajamas.
He looked exactly like Damon, except that he didn’t quite. He was brighter. His
skin was perfect, gone were the circles that often rimmed his sweet little baby
eyes. His halo of golden curls sprung around his head as always, except they
all seemed to do it in beautiful order, curling wildly and beautifully. And he
laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. He would kick his sweet little
legs straight, throw his beautiful head back and giggle. He laughed constantly
causing me to struggle to balance him on my hip. It was beautiful.
And
there was more to the dream. Something was wrong, someone was scared. To my surprise
there was a tiny little girl on my right hip. She was scared. There was
something bad happening. I can’t for the life of me recall the details but I
know I was scared too. I had to run. I had to rescue her, the tiny baby on my
hip. There were bad people chasing; I remember that.
The
thing that struck me as I explored this dream was that I was not afraid for
Damon. He sat on my left, perfectly content, smiling, peaceful and I did not
feel like I need to rescue him, only
the huddled child on my right…
I hesitate
to make too much of my wild subconscious trying to make sense of my shattered
heart but something about this rings so true in me. I’m not entirely sure what…
but something.
And above
all it was so good to see him, to see him perfect and laughing!! I had to write it down, for fear I would forget what
that picture looked like. I was so good to see my baby. I miss him more every
day.
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