Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Last night I dreamt of Andrew...

Last night I dreamt of Andrew. It happens very rarely but last night he disturbed my sleep.
He returned to us from beyond the grave and disturbed my world.

He came in, took one look at our “chaotic” existence and quite literally moved the furniture in the house around to suit his own needs.

He couldn’t understand why we had changed things, why things no longer worked the way he had planned them to.

Slightly rattled I woke early, decided to get up and make a cup of tea, the panacea for all ills, particularly at half six in the morning.

I climbed back into bed and read for a while to stop my mind from wandering. I don’t want my thoughts to drift in this direction. I’m already in a fragile state.

I like to think of Andrew looking down at us with a benevolent smile on his face, proud of all we’ve achieved. Although I confess in the early days I still worried what he would think about the things I did. I know I do lots differently but people tell me we are doing well.

It’s nearly 5 years since I’ve been doing “this” solo. I won’t say it necessarily gets any easier.

Quite often I long for someone to put their loving arms around me and hold me tight – but I have youngest son to snuggle on the sofa with and given half a chance he would never let me go. A ploy to extend bedtime he has never quite grown out of.

Meanwhile our house is quieter than ever as oldest son is off at Uni – forging ahead with his own path.

As I keep saying some things change and others just stay the same.

Here I sit in the same too big house, with the big lawn surrounded by such magnificent trees.

And once more its autumn and the leaves are falling down, weeping for a time that’s lost.

And that’s the other bit of the dream - as Andrew moved the furniture and re-wired the speakers so I could listen to a CD once more, I caught a glimpse out of the window, there were fewer leaves on the lawn and maybe they were mixed with a scattering of bright red poppies.

I gazed wistfully, pondering and letting everything wash over me. Holding “same” and “different” in my head.

After reading for a while I knew it was time to get up. The radio alarm had gone off and a new day had arrived.

It would be all too easy to pull the covers over my head and hide, but I’ve not got this far by shutting myself away from the world.

So I carry on, towards Friday 13th, the fifth anniversary, knowing that if I hear a bump in the night, it’s probably just Andrew re-arranging the furniture!

I’ll put it back where I like it in the morning!!!

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