Silence Is Broken…

I finally dreamed about John 3 nights ago.

I was at an old drive in movie place, but instead of parking for cars, there was a collection of remodeled vans, cargo trucks and buses in the movie lot – tiny house style.

Where the guts of the original vehicle are removed and the inside is remodeled like an apartment.

Only these were basically just rooms to hang out in.

All the wheels had been removed from the vehicles and they just sat on the ground.

I walk up to the back of a long, converted cargo van and open the doors.

All the seats and stuff inside had been cleared out of it, save a single white bench seat/couch positioned in the middle, facing the back doors where I stood.

A custom couch made to look like it belongs in an old car, but obviously way more comfortable.

The van definitely seems bigger to me on the inside.

And there was John sitting on the couch, in his jeans, t-shirt and ball cap.

He tells me, hey baby – why don’t you come in and spend some time with me?

I look around, noting the absence of anything else inside this van.

And I quip, “Well now… I guess you did clean everything up quite a bit!”

Cocking my head, I smile coyly and start to close the door and come sit with him.

And then I freeze, staring at him – suddenly realizing, dear god I’m dreaming about him.

Nine weeks since he died and I’m finally seeing him.

But as soon as I realized he was there, the vision broke and I woke up. 😦

I tried to go back to sleep and revisit that dream, but it didn’t work.

Still, it’s remarkably comforting.

After weeks of complete vacuum, without a good or even a bad dream about John or our fight again GBM, I finally saw my love.

I just hope I see him more.




Filed under Glioblastoma, NaBloPoMo, Random Thoughts

8 responses to “Silence Is Broken…

  1. Natalie LeVasseur

    Julia, you will see him again and you will have longer visits with him. I have never lost a spouse and I can’t imagine the loss of someone you love so much too soon.

    When I lost my mother and each time I had a miscarriage, time seemed to be suspended. It went on all around me, but for me it had stopped. Especially with the pregnancies, the future just evaporated.

    My mother passed on in 1999, mid-way through my three years of law school. While I was studying for the bar exam, exhausted and depressed, I was spending too much time trying to get out of bed each day. One morning while I was struggling to get up, she appeared in my bedroom, called me by my family nickname and very kindly said, “It’s time to get out of bed.” It was very comforting and reassuring. I know she is with me.

    Bless you as you move through this passage in your life,


  2. My condolences for your loss.

  3. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to lose someone you love so much, but I love that a dream could provide so much comfort. You will dream of him again.

  4. Paula

    There is no doubt in my mind that you will get the opportunity for more visits.
    I know many people say it’s just a dream born out of a desperate longing to see your loved ones again, but it has been my experience that these types of dreams have a very distinct quality to them and feel very different from “regular” dreams.

  5. Pingback: Day Twenty – NanoPoblano – Poem/Poetry – “Patient Man” by David Ellis | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

  6. Wishing you many visits ❤ So sorry for your loss.

  7. I’m sure he will visit many times. I’m so sorry you had to lose him but he will be with you wherever you may go, his memories will last a lifetime and beyond.

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