A Dream and an Embrace

January 23, 2010

I had a very vivid dream last night in which we were at our church, but participating in an unusual Sunday morning service where many of our long-time friends who don’t normally attend our church were present.  There were several odd features to the opening of the service including the fact that it began in utter darkness and then lights came on at some moment as a celebratory song was sung.

At a break in the service, we all went outside for some reason (not the way it usually goes on Sunday mornings) and as I was looking for my family from whom I was separated, I came around a corner of the building and saw Daniel standing with two friends, one of whom was Riley.  They were talking and laughing as I approached them.  Daniel looked very normal, at ease, grinning, and very much enjoying himself and these friends in that moment.

As I approached them, I seemed to be aware that this representation of Daniel was not fully real and that I might not be able to engage him or actually hug him.  Sure enough, as I reached where they were standing Daniel seemed to either disappear, or somehow become unapproachable to me.  Riley, though, turned to me, embraced me, and he and I began sobbing in each other’s arms.

About then I was conscious of this being a dream and I sensed I was waking up, wondering if I indeed would be sobbing as I awoke.  When I woke up I was not crying but I was very sad as I lay in bed realizing how much I miss Daniel and how badly I just want to walk up to him and embrace him again.

At times like these, the grief seems to come back full force, becoming “unspeakable,” seemingly impossible to either describe or even feel like I can even bear it.  The ache in my heart and my soul is so deep and so profound; on days like this, it makes everything else in my life seem so meaningless.

P.S. to this journal entry:

Though this pain may make everything else in my life seem so meaningless, after reflecting on this for a few more hours I know this sense is not really true.  Everything else cannot be meaningless since I am aware that Riley, his family, and many others as well also feel this same sense of pain and loss over Daniel's death.

I don't really understand what "meaning" there might be around Daniel's death, but I do know that having others to share it with me means that life cannot be seen as meaningless.  We can and we do embrace and weep in each other’s arms.