I had a bad dream last night about Toby. Now, since he's been gone I have only dreamed about him twice. Both were very vivid. This one took the cake, though.
Toby was dead and in his casket. We were all at the funeral. Suddenly, someone got up and took him out of the casket. They made him pretend to walk, like you might a doll. They made him pretend to clap his hands. They were just starting to move his mouth to make him pretend to talk (I could hear the glue that the funeral home puts on lips starting to crack) when I woke up.
I don't know why I dreamed this. I suspect it has something to do with something my hairdresser said yesterday. We were talking about Marilyn Monroe and he told me that he'd been obsessed with her when he was a teenager, papering his walls with photos and posters. Finally, his mother said, "The poor woman is dead. Let her rest!"
So maybe, in my mind, that transferred to Toby.
I think there is a fine line between keeping a memory alive and forcing the memory of the person to hang around, letting it consume you.
It was an awful dream. I remember thinking at the time, though, that I didn't want that. I wanted him back in the casket, buried. What was happening was horrible, morbid, and unhealthy. At that point, I was ready to let him go and hang onto the good stuff that I had of him.
I do not believe that Toby watches over me or is my angel or anything of that nature. But I DO believe that he still manages to send me messages on occasion.
Toby was dead and in his casket. We were all at the funeral. Suddenly, someone got up and took him out of the casket. They made him pretend to walk, like you might a doll. They made him pretend to clap his hands. They were just starting to move his mouth to make him pretend to talk (I could hear the glue that the funeral home puts on lips starting to crack) when I woke up.
I don't know why I dreamed this. I suspect it has something to do with something my hairdresser said yesterday. We were talking about Marilyn Monroe and he told me that he'd been obsessed with her when he was a teenager, papering his walls with photos and posters. Finally, his mother said, "The poor woman is dead. Let her rest!"
So maybe, in my mind, that transferred to Toby.
I think there is a fine line between keeping a memory alive and forcing the memory of the person to hang around, letting it consume you.
It was an awful dream. I remember thinking at the time, though, that I didn't want that. I wanted him back in the casket, buried. What was happening was horrible, morbid, and unhealthy. At that point, I was ready to let him go and hang onto the good stuff that I had of him.
I do not believe that Toby watches over me or is my angel or anything of that nature. But I DO believe that he still manages to send me messages on occasion.
2 comments:
Gee - that is gruesome. It kind of reminds me of my friend who was asking the gravediggers in huge detail about how bodies decompose. I suppose our minds are working with the most gruesome of realities, and this is all just part of that.
Do you think Toby was trying to say, you need to leave me be - time to get off with living now? Or am I over-thinking? xx
I think we're thinking along the same lines...
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