there was a time..

I drempt last night, and only those close to me realize what an oddity it is that I remember that I drempt at all, let alone what about. I drempt that it had all been a dream, a nightmare, and that I’d finally woken up. He arrived at the door, bitching because I’d forgotten to book his flight, complaining that the house was a mess, and playing with the kids and the pets.

Skip ahead, to me digging through my mother’s closet for something fabulous to wear – and somehow discovering an old prom dress. [I knew for certain it was a dream, for I still *fit* into said prom dress.] All dressed up, to the nines, looking fabulous and as excited as a kid on her first date. The door bell rang, and there he was…

…talking to my parents, not even saying anything to me about how I looked or even acknowledging that I was there, which was so wrong because he *always* was one who hung on me, complimented whenever the whim struck – and it struck a lot. He was opening gifts of some sort, he was then writting something, and all along everyone interacted as if I wasn’t there.

It was then that I realized something. Somehow, I had invaded his dreams, his mishmash of cosmic thought, his essense of mixed up realities. It hit like a sledge hammer. In his world…

I didn’t exist.

I woke up with tears drying on my face, my pillow wet with evidence of how long I’d been trapped in a reality where my being there no longer mattered.

And I again resolved to make sure that here, with his kids, with me, his presense would always matter. Painful, difficult, but oh so necessary that the kids easily remember, and that I not try to squash said memories in any way shape of form. He’s still here. He still exists. He’s just on a different plane then we are – and we’ll still strive to make him proud to have had been able to spend the past 15 years with us.