I woke up early this morning with tears in my eyes, dripping on my pillow, not sobbing. I dreamt that I was sitting by Mom's hospital bed, talking with her, and she looked really good, like she did when she vacationed down here. She was smiling and animated, telling me very important things, things I needed to know, and I was paying close attention because I wanted, needed, to remember. I thought, I should be writing this down. And then I woke up.
It was still dark outside, weird for me to be up this early, but clearly my subconscious was at work. NSA was in a bad place of his own, so I sat on the couch with a blanket, waiting for my coffee to brew, watching the minutes tick by, reliving this morning five months ago moment by moment. I didn't remind NSA of what day it is, I don't know if he thought about it, nor did I tell him about my dream. Maybe I'm being selfish, or maybe I'm trying to spare him. It's hard to say.
I know that I'm moving forward, I mean, things progess, time marches on, it can't be stopped just because you need a breather or eight hundred, but I have very little faith in the future. Some days, I feel like I've had the shit kicked out of me, and just as I start to recover from one blow, another lands.
I can't remember what Mom was telling me in the dream, and that's why I was crying. It was important, and I woke up to the real world not remembering.