Dreaming, dreaming, of you, sweetheart, I am dreaming

Nick died four months ago, on Valentine's morning, so I suppose it's not so odd that I still dream of him. Some of the dreams have been lovely; some have been terrible. The night that I had a recurring dream that he was alive, where in each dream he would tell me "no, I was sick, but remember I got better," and then I would say no, I remember the funeral...losing him four more times in one night was the worst nightmare I've ever had.

Some nights, it's not so much a dream, but the feel of him. I feel him getting into bed, or getting out of bed. It might be frightening if I hadn't felt the cats jump into bed long after the cats were gone, including in a new house and a new bed. As it is, it's rather comforting to feel that somehow he comes to visit me and watch over me. He always said that when he died, he wasn't going to spend his time hanging around earth, but, hey, he could have changed his mind, couldn't he? There was one night when I clearly saw him, or at least his shadow - okay, I didn't have my glasses on, and I'm not even positive I had my eyes open, but it still made me smile.

Last night, though, the dream was oddly out of synch. Up until 14 or so years ago, I still kept an apartment in the city several nights a week so that I could continue working. I was quite used to being alone those few nights. But last night, I was in that halfway place between sleep and awake, confused. I couldn't figure out why I lived alone. I knew I didn't commute to work anymore, I knew I didn't have the apartment anymore, but I didn't know why I lived all alone.

Funny, the tricks our minds play....