A Dream of Hope

I slept at least 30 out of 36 hours during my bout with the stomach virus from you-know-where. I woke up for the umpteenth time yesterday at noon and remembered the dream I’d just had. I used to remember my dreams…always. But since losing Mr. Virgo, I’d say I have remembered less than a hand full. Not sure why that is. But this dream was wonderful and I wanted to share it with you.

It was only my second dream of Mr. Virgo since he died. He had been away working all this time and I decided to go visit him at his new job. I got there and he was dressed in a nice brown suit. He took me in his office where he had been sorting papers. A woman came in and he handed her a stack to be shredded. He hugged me and told me he missed me so much and he was so glad I came. Before I could say anything, I noticed a huge yellow butterfly on the lamp behind him. I pointed and he turned to look. Now, I never ever saw Mr. Virgo cry, but he put his chin down and wept in what I felt was joy. I felt there was someone in the room with us and I turned to my right and it was the same guardian angel that I saw when I had my EMDR treatment for PTSD. When I looked back, I saw that I was looking through a window at Mr. Virgo in Heaven. It was amazing.

I shared this with my cousin. She said perhaps the shredding of the papers is a sign of getting rid of the clutter and unwanted grief junk in my life. And the butterfly is a sign of new life, new beginnings. When you are sick, you are particularly vulnerable to the shards of grief cutting into you. It’s far too easy to slip down that slope of sadness till you find yourself mired in the muck.

I woke from the dream and laid there…listening to my heart. I felt Mr. Virgo whisper, “Come on, baby doll. Get up. You’ll feel a whole lot better after a shower and some breakfast.” And, he was right, of course. I walked around the neighborhood and checked out some of the little shops. I stopped at the cute little soda fountain and had a grilled cheese and a Coke. And I felt much better. So much better.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *