In My Dreams I Walk

“In my dreams, I walk.” He tells me.

The simple, raw grief in that statement shatters my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is several weeks after the accident; I am in my bed drifting off to sleep. In that twilight world halfway between sleep and wakefulness I can hear the sound of the tires of the road, I can feel the rhythmic, swaying movement of a car. My eyes close against my will, sleep heavy and demanding. I’m so tired, so very, very tired. The part of my brain that is telling me I have to stay awake is no match for the part that knows how badly I need rest. No match for that comforting, rhythmic rocking of a moving vehicle. Just for a moment, it’s ok, I tell myself. Sleep pulls me under deeper and deeper.

Suddenly there is a loud crash, my entire world spins as I’m rudely jerked from sleep by the terrifying sensation of the car rolling over and over.

I sit upright in my bed, heart pounding in my chest and tears rolling down my face as I realize I have come as close as possible to experiencing what my son endured, without actually falling asleep at the wheel and wrecking.

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