In Dreams

The other night, I had a grief-induced breakdown so violent that I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind. I did lose my fucking mind. It came back, though. It does that.

I began to disbelieve what I have always believed before, which is that the spirits of our loved ones are around us, helping us, guiding us and loving us eternally. when I realized I had begun to lose faith in that, I felt like I lost my grip on everything.That thought was too much for me to bear. To quiet myself and my mind, I took an Ativan and lay there quivering until I fell asleep. My brain wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop imagining Chris next to me, stoking my back and my hair and just being next to me. Eventually I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning with the slightest memory of my dream. The entire dream was enormously long, but I could only remember a few seconds of it.

There are two types of dreams; the kind you see through your own eyes and the kind you see yourself in. I experienced this dream through my own eyes.

Although I never saw his face, Chris was standing in front of me. I knew because I recognized his dirty white T-shirt. That’s the way Chris dressed. He never bleached his whites or separated them from his darks. His “white” T-shirts always had a greyish hue. I digress.

He was standing so close that I could only see him from his belt to his neck. I raised my arms, like I always used to do, and wrapped them around his neck and hugged him and he hugged and held me. I could smell his Speed Stick. I just held him until I woke up. I didn’t think anything of the dream. I just noticed that I felt much, much better when I woke up. Throughout the rest of the day, I kept almost remembering other parts of my dream, but they never materialized and there were gone in a millisecond. I felt a bewildered, though mild sense of amnesia each time. I guess I wasnt’ supposed to remember that dream.

The following evening, I had a pretty mild breakdown, nothing to write about. Once again, I fell asleep but without the aid of Ativan this time. I dreamed again. Again, what I recall of my dream is sketchy. I only remember that “we” were in a show. I think the “we” was my friends, although I can’t remember who. I think my brother was there and Chris was definitely there, too. We were running up a small cobble-stoned street during the wee hours of the night toward the only store that was open, laughing the entire way. The store clerk let us in and “we” sang for him. I remember the song was four-part harmony and I remember being able to hear and pick out Chris’ bass line. My vocal coach may have been the director. I’m not sure. The laughter is what really stood out in my memory. I awoke feeling even better than the morning before.

Later in the day, I began, once again, to believe. I feel as though Chris came to me through my dream and held me, like I wish he could every day. I can still feel his hug and see his dirty T-shirt. I truly felt held for the first time since the last time he really held me. And laughing with him, again, was wonderful. It’s like he knew that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and he came and helf me to make me feel better.