"A dream which is not interpreted is like a letter which is not read." - The Talmud
Friday, October 27th 2017
Sometimes I think dreams are just dreams. Other times, I think dreams speak to us. Some part of ourselves whispering into our ear in the night, a voice so small we rarely hear it when we're awake.
Last night I had a dream like that. I remember it vividly, strong and clear.
In my dream, my husband had died. At first it didn't seem real... surely he was out somewhere, he would be home any moment. Then, slowly, it began to sink in. I felt lost, and completely alone, and not knowing what else to do I started talking to him in the way one talks to those who have passed away.
"Please come back to me," I said, knowing he couldn't, knowing I was talking more to myself than to him. "I can't do this on my own. I don't know how. You are my wisdom and my strength."
Then, somehow, I heard him say: "I didn't know I was your wisdom and your strength."
Something in me splintered, tears pouring like two hot rivers down my face. Without hesitation I said, "then I have failed."
My alarm began to chime then, tugging at the edges of my mind, pulling me up from the depths of this dream. But even as I swam towards the surface, I knew that this was the greatest grief of all. That he didn't know how I felt. That I hadn't conveyed to him when he was alive what he means to me. That he had died not knowing.
I turned off my alarm, put my arms around the man lying next to me, beautiful and alive, and told him about my dream. I told him that he is my wisdom and my strength. That he is the roots beneath my feet, simultaneously grounding me and pushing me up ever higher. That our time together in this world is the most lovely gift I have ever been given.
We are affectionate people, my husband and I, and I trust that he knows these things -- but the thought that he doesn't, or that he might someday doubt them, is reason enough to say them again. I know people who say that "love" is too precious a word to throw around lightly, that using it would take away from its power, and I can understand that stance. But more and more I find myself wanting to say it as often as I can. Not to cheapen its meaning, but because of its meaning. I am rich with love, and to not give it freely would be an awful waste.
That dream was full of pain for me, but it wasn't just a nightmare about losing someone I care about. It was a dream with a message, and this is what it said:
Make sure the people you love know that you love them. You never know when you won't have the chance, or when all is said and done if the words and embraces you gave were enough. So tell them, show them, what they mean to you. If you think you already have, do it again. Do it now, and tomorrow, and every day after that. In little ways or big ways, in words or in actions, in whatever way feels right.. let them know.
I'd love to know...
Have you ever woken up from a dream knowing right away what its message was?
Have you ever lost someone before telling them how you felt?
Do you use the L word often, or do you prefer to save it for special occasions?
Share your thoughts in the comments below.