"I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream."

thirty-seven / threesixtyfive a photo by Noukka Signe on Flickr.

We had some potentially good news.   I'm trying to be calm and logical about it all, but apparently, my brain has shared this news with my subconscious which took that news, put logic through the shredder only to then spit on the scraps.

In all 6 months we've been apart, I don't think I've a single dream about my husband.  This is odd for me.  During his deployments, he visited my dreams, not on a very regular basis, but on several occasions.  Overall, those visits were welcomed, but, every once in a while, I'd wake from one of those dreams & it would take me a moment to realize our reunion only existed in my mind.  Go ahead and give me a bit of comfort and happiness and snatch it away quickly in the sunlight.  Stomp on my heart, why don't ya?

Apparently, my subconscious has taken this vague possibility and decided that the next step must be reunion.  

I didn't even dream about anything terribly obscene (:::waving meekly at my big brother and sisters who I know don't want to hear anything TMI about their baby sister:::).    I can't really remember much about the actual events of the dream.  I just remember him.  I remember purposely touching his skin and I remember his arms around me.  

And the next thing I remember was completely unrelated.  I was in an SUV driving off a cliff with a whole host of people, (none of them my husband).  When I woke up, I was shaken by the car off the cliff to the point that it took me a while to even remember I had even dreamt about my husband.  

Ever since then, though, I can't shake it.  I can't shake that longing for him (and, for once, my mind's not even in the gutter when I say that).  I can't reason with myself.  "Yes, yes, that's all well and good and will happen in time, but there's a chance it won't happen NOW."  In response, my heart shoves its fingers in ears and chants, "La la la la.  Can't hear you."  

I've actually found my conscious mind feeling more and more pessimistic about this prospect.  Maybe it's to try to counteract this hopefulness that has taken flight (prematurely) in my dreams.  I don't want to be disappointed.  I don't want to be the only one in our big bed at night.  I don't want to dream.  I don't want to be alone.   I don't want this chance to pass us by.  

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell." -Edna St. Vincent Millay