this is something I wrote a few years ago. thought I'd post it.
I had this crazy dream a few nights ago. I was dead, in my dream of course, and I was wandering around an absolutely gorgeous landscape. Huge mountains cut high up into the sky, drawing my eyes upward to the beauty of the fluffy white clouds. But the sweet grass beneath my toes felt so incredible; I had to look down to make sure it was real. Oh yes, it was! Beautiful rolling hills of grass, tall trees dotting the turf in an effort to clothe it in shade filled my eyes with wonder. Bright wildflowers were scattered here and there in clumps, dancing together in the breeze, enjoying the sun that coddled their petals.
But this beautiful landscape was nothing compared to the people that were walking beside me: it was my family; my brother and my sisters, my parents, my sisters with different surnames, and a few of the boys who have become my brothers in this mortal life. But there was a man holding my hand; a man who was strong and sweet, gentle and firm, the man who had stolen my heart. He smiled at me as I gazed at him and I felt peace only true love can bring. Running in front of us, were half a dozen children, all calling back to me “Mommy look at me!” “Mommy, look at how fast I can run!” I laughed at the sheer pleasure I felt at being there with them, the joy they brought in my life, now my afterlife. I felt my heart melt as the man at my side let go of my hand, and began to run ahead with the children, scooping the smallest and slowest up in his arms, racing the very breeze that encouraged their feet. He turned back and shouted my name, beckoning with his hand. I turned to my mother, who was beside me and gave her a smile. She nodded, and I took off. I left the others behind and ran to catch up with my husband and children.
As we dashed across the green, I watched my children grow up before my eyes. The dark golden locks of my girls’ hair shimmered as they flew in the breeze, their features becoming more womanly with every leap and bound. My boys, my sweet boys, began to take huge strides, their powerful muscles propelling them forward, farther and farther away from me. I watched their shoulders broaden and their hands become strong and protective, just like their father’s.
Soon more joined us, grabbing the hands of my children as we ran, gazing at them with the same joy I felt when I looked at the man who once again held my hand in his. They were beautiful girls, clinging to the hands of my sons; tall, protective men gently caressing the fingers of my daughters. They ran with us, and then my babies were running in different directions, sending their love back in sweet sentences of pure adoration, their hands clasped tightly to the one they loved.
The man of my dreams gently slowed our pace with the pressure in his hand, until we were strolling through the meadows, the flowers and trees our only companions in the stillness of the day.
It was incredible: the beauty, the perfection, and the absolute joy. But just as all dreams do, this one ended with the sound of my alarm. The mountains vanished; their majesty melted into the cinderblock of my walls. The grass faded into the softness of my cotton sheets and the flowers morphed into the photographs on my walls. I was alone again, my pillow and slumbering roommate my only companions. Sighing, I was determined to return to this place, this haven. But of course, it didn’t happen; the responsibility in my spirit reared its ugly head, and I swung my feet over the side of the bed, the beauty of the grass and trees dissolving completely.
