Dreaming With My Eyes Wide Open

There’s a huge difference between dreaming and having vivid images. I honestly am not sure which I’d rather have when it comes to the negative aspect. Joe and I were having a deep conversation last week. We both have vivid images. Images you do not want to even think about. But we both cannot get these out of our subconscious. While neither one of us physically saw Zane that fateful afternoon, we horribly have real life vivid images quite often. In fact so often it’s practically every day. Details of these images? Him laying on the floor alone, in the living room. We both have this in our minds. We both want these pictures to disappear but we both know they’re not going to. They are stamped on us like mail.

I have come to a harsh reality that my son will not be truly known by new people. The ONLY ones the know him are the ones that knew him while he was alive. My child will not meet new people. He will not make new friends. Sheesh. That’s a kick in the face. My heart is hurting once again.

Twice now I’ve had a dream that I was determined to find and buy Daniel shirts all while looking for Zane shirts too. Daniel has always been super picky so in my dream I was being particular. Zane liked certain kinds but would generally wear whatever I bought because he hated to shop. I have no idea why I needed to get Daniel shirts so bad. Needless to say, I went out and bought him two shirts to appease my dream. It made me feel better for some reason. While I did not actually have a dream with Zane IN it, at least there was something about Zane in the dream. That makes me happy.

Have you ever read a book to an eight year old and had to explain a paragraph or a sentence? Most of the time it’s easy right? It’s on a second or third grade level right? But what if the sentence says “It’s about a girl named Giselle who, um, dances with this Duke guy, but he’s going to marry a princess, not Giselle, so she takes his sword and stabs herself.”…how on Earth do you explain a girl stabbing herself? To your child. Your child that looks up at you with eyes that say “I don’t understand…”. It makes me sad.

I am going out on a limb here and assuming the story is based on Romeo and Juliet. I did not read the entire book, the page I did was clearly enough. Shakespeare never intended his plays to be read by children I am sure so why would a children’s book author use this story line? Run out of ideas there? Must have, maybe it’s time to put down the pen. Some might think I’ve gotten my feathers all in a ruffle. Maybe I have. I just know the trauma I have substained. If I can prevent it with one child I will…I might just contact these authors and ask what the hell were they thinking.

(Ivy & Bean ‘Doomed To Dance’ by Annie Barrows and Sophie Blackall)

Damn sirens 😔 I heard them again. And again.

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