Dreaming

Yesterday my daughter came home, with her daughter, but only in my dream.  A nap I took and couldn’t shake all day, a visit I never wanted to end.  During my sleep, I returned home and they were here, playing with a feather duster.  Stella moved about the house, I was cautious in approaching her, as if she might disappear again.  I couldn’t hold back with my little Princess though, we cuddle and talked, she giggled.  The glorious sound of a toddler giggle filled my slumber, my heart.  She spoke to me in big girl talk, confusing me with her sentences.  I woke before they left, they were gone already.

I didn’t touch my daughter, had I grabbed her I wouldn’t have let go.  What am I to make of such a vivid dream? A mother’s aching heart on overdrive? A promise from God that one day soon, soon? I only know that I had a visit with my daughter and granddaughter yesterday and my soul is raw.  My house is quiet, the feather duster sits unused.  I feel drowsy, groggy, waiting to fully wake and fearing I will.

I wonder now if it wasn’t satan himself, luring me back to bed, away from my light.  Holding out treasures, leading me under the covers, “there, there, rest now.” I don’t want to go to church today, the music may make me cry, the people might hug me, someone may smile at me.  It occurs to me the more I don’t want to go, the faster I need to shower, to get in the car.  I have to wake up.  There is hope in the waking.  Sleep holds emptiness.  She visited me, whether my overactive mind, God or Satan sending her.  That was yesterday.  Today is new, I am going to church.  I know for sure God will meet me there.

 

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