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Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Sleep: Glorious Sleep

This morning, I could not wake up. Though I tried to wake up. Kept opening my eyes and seeing, without my glasses, those blurry red numbers on the digital clock warning me it was just after 6:00 a.m.

Sleep kept slipping in sideways. Pulling me back. Even though I knew I had to get up. The home draw technician was due at 8:00 a.m. and before he arrived, I had to disconnect the feeding pump and flush Bob’s tube. Then crush and dissolve Bob’s morning medications and syringe those into his tube. Not to mention, change his bed pad and make him comfortable. And walk the dog. And feed the dog. And take my bath and get dressed. All before the lab technician arrives at 8:00 a.m. to draw blood from Bob.

But sleep has a magic power. A sort of slipping down into the gentle darkness that one cannot resist. A melting into the memory foam mattress pad on my bed.  And I grasped the safety edge of sleep and let it pull me back into the beautiful dark. Into a dream.

A dream where Bob walked and talked like he used to. Where he stood tall next to me and put his arms around me and looked down at me with those blue-blue eyes.  Where he remembered my name and brought me coffee in bed and took out the trash.  And I thought, in that dream, I just want to stay here. Stay here in this dream forever.

But my eyes fluttered open and the blurry red numbers on the digital clock read 6:15. And I thought, no, I must go back to that dream. Just for a little while, just a few more minutes. I can take the dog for a shorter walk. I just need to get back to that dream.

And I closed my eyes and let sleep take me down, down, down into the dream. Where Bob opened the car door of The Green Machine so I could climb into the passenger seat. He always did that. Not just because he was a gentleman, but because the lock on the driver’s side does not work, so I needed to get in first to open his door from the inside. Which is what I did, in that dream. Open his door and he got in. And he turned to me and said, "Where to, Sweets?" And I said, "Anywhere but here, Bucky. Anywhere else, but here." Then we were driving on a bridge over sparkling blue waters and the sun was shining and the car windows rolled down and I stretched my arm out the open window and caught the wind in my hand...

My eyes flutter open and the blurry red numbers on the digital clock read 6:28. And I thought I must go back to that dream.  I can take the dog for a very short walk. I can take my bath after the home draw tech leaves. I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me once again.

But the dream was gone. And now I was dreaming that I was in a shopping mall, in a store that sold only blue jeans, and I was searching for Bob. But I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find him anywhere.

I woke up with a start. The blurry red numbers on the digital clock read 6:55. I shot out of bed because, oh crap,  the home draw technician was due to arrive at 8:00 a.m. And I still have to disconnect the feeding pump and flush Bob's tube and crush his meds and syringe those into his tube and walk the dog and feed the dog and change Bob's bed pad and take a bath and get dressed and boy-oh-boy I am behind schedule!

Lately, I just want to sleep and dream forever….


Anonymous said...

I hope that wonderful dream comes back to you, or more very similar to it. I can sure understand why you didn't want to wake up. It's good that your subconscious brought back those great memories from the past for you to enjoy. I do wish you could have enjoyed the dream much longer.

Sending you both lots of prayers and hugs. Dan

Joyce said...

Oh, Diane, I have had a few of those dreams, and they are wonderful. All of a sudden I am aware that Gary is talking again and walking beside me. Those visits from my pre-stroke husband are so very, very special. I wake up with renewed hope. Here's to more of them more often.

Barb Polan said...

What if you're not looking at the past, but at the future?

Keep dreaming, Diane! It must be like heaven.

Theresa Loder said...

Wonderfully expressed Diane

Treasured moments for sure

Prayers and hugs

J.L. Murphey said...

Wouldn't it be nice to live in our dream worlds? Sadly after 11 years for caring for T I no longer dream of the past. Half of our married life together I've been the caregiver although it doesn't seem that long. My dreams now are we are normal, that's both of us. Just going on with our lives without limitations, not memories.

Susan said...

Beautifully written Diane,
so heartfelt. I wish you more dreaming (& sleeping).

Mo Stroke said...

Brings me to tears. Just last night I dreamt my mom was her old self and after I woke up I just wanted to go back to that dream and I did, at least for a little while.

You are one strong lady, D. Please keep writing.

Jenn said...

your truth brings out the incredible writer that you are. <3