Every night I go to sleep.
Every SINGLE NIGHT when I go to sleep.
No matter what I was doing the day before.
I dream about burying my mom.
It’s a different dream every time. One night Barack Obama came to pay his respects. One night I buried her then had a living funeral for my aunt. One night I waited at her crypt for them to seal it with the inscription (which I have to go check on today). Last night, I was explaining to someone what lengths we went through to bury her… but somehow she was in the room in the coffin. And my eyes played tricks on me again. I thought I saw her arms flail up (as if she was deep in thought and couldn’t come to a good conclusion). I dismissed that until I saw her turn over. So I rushed to her and said… “You’re AWAKE… YOU’RE ALIVE.” She looked at me and something wasn’t altogether right. One eye was off focus (wandering) a touch and her hair was like it was in the hospital; in a bun on top of her head. She mumbled something to me about not letting anyone know that I saw her that way, and she turned over and went to sleep. And woke up.
Every night. I bury my mom.
I’m not sure how I’ll stay sane this way.
I really miss her. More than I’ve missed anyone.