One Sweet Dream....

Dear Dazzy,

Honey, this past week not only have I dreamt of you-twice(!)-I have had a few
weird-y things happen as well. They are small, personal things that make me stop and think and wonder.

Because I have not always been on the "believer in signs" side of the fence, I am still skeptical at times. Other times, when I am sure it is your touch or scent or whatever I have experienced, I have the fervor of the newly converted, that wants everyone to see they way they see, and can't understand why anyone would want it to be otherwise.

Last night I went out with ML, and we had a good time up at Abueloe's.
It was the anniversary of her hubby's passing, 28 years ago. Yes, 28.
We talked about how he was the love of her life, how hard it was to go on with small children-a toddler and a new baby-and that no matter how long it has been, those emotions really do stay just below the surface for the rest of one's life.

At least they do when real love had lived within both hearts.

When I came home, I was wistful-it was a warm summer night, stars were flickering, and the crescent moon hung askew, like a modern installation of an old master's painting. All I could think of was how we should be in the convertible together, returning from some fun Friday night outing, the top down so we could see the moon all the way home.

Missing you is the thing that still, still, permeates my waking hours. I don't believe it will ever truly leave my spirit.
I force it away at times, but it always hovers around my periphery.

After I came home last night, I was on line a bit, then went to bed. Smash doesn't feel well, so she went to bed before me.
As I turned off the light in our room, I heard what sounded like someone whispering.
I checked my cd-radio( nope, not on) and my cell phone( nope, not ringing funny), and then realized it was coming from my pocketbook.

It turned out to be my MP3 player. I never had it on yesterday, and it is not touchy-feely in its operations-you have to consciously turn the thing on, holding down buttons and whatnot.

The song that was playing was "You Never Give Me Your Money" by the Beatles.
Funny title, but very apropos song-here are the lyrics that were playing when I heard it:

...Monday morning, turning back
Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go
But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go
Oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go
Nowhere to go

One sweet dream
Pick up the bags and get in the limousine
Soon we'll be away from here
Step on the gas and wipe that tear away
Came true today
Came true today, yes it did
My my my...
One sweet dream
came true
today

One two three four five six seven
All good children go to Heaven
{Repeat to fade}

So now, to overanylize...

Yellow lorry slow-you did drive and own a trucking co.for a bit in Oz.
The slow and nowhere to go? That's a bit like I feel these days...and that nagic feeling bit?
That has to be how I feel as well; no restictions on me after the kids graduate-OR it could be you, in your new "place" in the universe, no earthly shackles or demands or hurts or anything to wigh your soul down.

Even with that altruistic ideal, I still wish you were here in the earthly flesh again.

With me-where you belong. :)

I go to Oz on Tuesday. The limo is the airport shuttle, LOL
My sweet dream-about going to Oz with you-will never be realized, but maybe may part will?

Wiping away "that" tear tells me that my trip will be Ok in the end.

The "all good children go to heaven" part still has me a bit bewildered.

Is that where you are? Is there something more to this than you and I ever thought? I will not be finding manistream religion anytime soon, LOL we all know how you and I thought in that direction-but yeah, trying to keep an open mind here...

Oh and the time all this went on?
1:13 AM

How do I know?
Hard to miss the large, obnoxiously luminous digital numbers that glow in the darkeness of our bedroom, as they do every night, eminating from the front of the cd player/alarm/radio that sits opposite our bed.

It registered instantly that 113 is also the date of the first time we met via ICQ.
November 3, 1999.

11/3.

Most people would dismiss this as fantasy and nonesense, a widow grasping at straws of possible contact with the only man she has ever truly loved.

They may be correct, but I say screw 'em.

If anyone could reassure me from beyond the life-curtain that has drawn between Daz and I for now, it would be him. Larger than life, always insistant, always loving and wanting the best for me and the kids and his friends and family...

one sweet dream
came true
today


Love you, Dazzy. Always.
Kisses, Wifey.