Dreams come true.

When Max died, I prayed that I’d see him in a dream.  Every night I’d go to bed and hope that was the night he’d come to my dreams.  This year marks seven years since he died, and I have never once dreamt of him. That’s ok. Eventually, it became something I joke about.  And the truth is, sometimes humor trumps what we think we need.

After Melvin was diagnosed, I’d lay with him at night and talk to him.  Not just all the things I wanted him to know, I mean I said those things too, but more because I’ve spent years talking ‘with’ him, and I only had a short time to get a lifetime of our conversations in. In our ‘discussions’, I’d say “tell Max it’s ok he’s never snuck into my dreams, but Buddy, feel free to do as I say, not as Max does!’.  And every night, in addition to the songs, and the love and the praise I would shower him with, I’d say — “Please, find a way to come back to me. But if you can’t or you think it’s not what is best for me, then know I will understand”.  He was probably like: please stop talking, it’s 3am.

Well I feel Melvin all the time.  I feel him in my chest.  I can’t explain it, but there is a delightful weight there now, and I know it’s him.

He didn’t stop there. This week, I dreamt of Melvin. It was an odd dream.  In fact when I woke up I was trying to figure out what the heck it was even about before I realized, HOLY CRAP, MELVIN CAME BACK TO ME!

The dream was… I went to the movies with my parents. And when we walked in to get seats, the place was a mad house.  It was packed, everyone was diving for seats.  So they went one way and I said I’d sit ‘over here’ and they said, ok, you and boys sit over there. And I looked down, and Jake and Melvin were with me. I was suddenly so confused as to why I brought my dogs to the movie.  And I was worried we’d get kicked out!  So I quickly found a seat and the dogs, laid down under me. But the theatre kept getting more and more crowded.  And people were sitting on laps and the space in the aisle started filling up.  I started to feel so much anxiety about the dogs being there and getting stepped on and then I realized I didn’t have leashes for them.  And I started to panic.  I grabbed Jake in my arms and took Melvin by the collar and we went running outside.  Once outside, it was just us.  No one was there. There was a patch of grass and it was calm, and lovely and we laid in the grass and snuggled.  And I held them, and touched Melvin and it was real.

And then I woke up. I had a conversation with Melvin that went like this: Thank you.  I’ve never loved you more!!

The snugglers, reunited in a dream and hot damn if it was not glorious! photo[1] IMG_9495 IMG_9596 IMG_0073

10 thoughts on “Dreams come true.

  1. What a beautiful post. I feel like I can relate to this so much. I lost my first dog, Gidgett several years ago. It was by far the hardest for me because she had been with me for 12 years. I was 18 when I got her, so those were 12 very important years. She was with me when I moved out on my own for the first time, through my first big-girl job, first apartment in a new city, and two heartbreaks.
    I started journaling after I lost her so I could voice my feelings and emotions about what I was going through. It was very therapeutic. Then there were the days/nights that I knew she was there because I “felt” her presence. Like she was there to let me know she was okay, and that I would be okay. I didn’t tell a lot of people, because I knew not everyone would understand. And I didn’t need anyone to understand, it helped me heal and that’s all that mattered.
    I’m so glad you dreamt of Melvin. I know it made your heart happy

    • I wholeheartedly understand, Brianne. I did the same thing with Max that you did with Gidgett, via the journaling. Part of writing this blog, and sharing the good and bad is so that others know that there is a community of empathy here. To you point about ‘not everyone understanding’, it’s so true, but it is never the case here!

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