Vivid dreams tends to mean vivid nightmares

I’m used to dreaming vividly.  I have all my life.  Full scents, sounds and colors.  I have even been known to mistake dreams for memories because they are so vivid.  Due to insomnia I hadn’t been dreaming much, but since I’m back to sleeping (temporarily at least) my dreams seem to have take on an even more vivid cast, if that is even possible.  When they are regular dreams, that doesn’t bother me  since those dreams tend to either be about every day life or are sci-fi/fantasy themed (if I could only remember enough of them to write them down, I’d have some REALLY good stories for you…heck I could even write a series then as I often return to the same “place”).  But when they are emotionally charged nightmares, whether with fear, anger or sadness, I have a rather hard time shaking them upon waking.  When one dream combines all three emotions, it hangs over me for days.

Sunday morning, I dreamed that I was meeting up someone who I love very much but, due to other circumstances, don’t see or correspond with them often.  It was in a town that we both just happened to be visiting.  We agreed to meet at the restaurant.  I’m a few minutes late.   When I get to the table, I go to give this loved one a hug, utterly delighted to get to spend some time with him, to only have him pull away from me.  Surprised,  I pull back to get a good look at him as my angle of approach to the table was odd.  His face is gaunt.  He’s lost at least 50 pounds.  The look on his face stops me cold.  He is absolutely furious with me and beneath that is hurt and pain.  I plop down in the chair next to him, very concerned.

I ask him “What is the matter?  What happened?  Why are you so angry?”

He doesn’t say a word, just shoves something covered in rust-colored fabric in my face.  I pull my head back at the same time as I gently push the object away so that I can see what it is.  It is only then that I realize that the fabric is the same color as his shirt, safety pinned to itself to keep it closed and from flapping.  I then realize that the fabric is actually his shirt.  Specifically the sleeve containing what is left of his arm.  I look up at his face, which hasn’t changed expression, horrified and stuttering.  I see his other arm.  Both arms end right before the elbow begins.

He never says a word to me.  He just stares at me angry, hurt and in pain. I ask him what happen, when and how.  I never knew.  I was never told.  His wife had never contacted me and he wasn’t exactly able to just pick up a phone and call.    I got a vision over his right shoulder that he’d stop to help someone in an accident or a burning building, I couldn’t see all the details.  In trying to help (former EMT), he was badly injured.  I thought he was in this town for business.  He must have actually been in town for rehab.  My last thought before I awoke was that he would never hold me again.  (Selfish get, aren’t I?)

I awoke angry, hurt and beyond upset.  The dream was so real.  It brought up so many fears and unresolved issues.  The first thing I did when I got up was to text him.  Like most people who do not dream as I do, he found my borderline hysteria uncalled for and unrealistic.

Yes it was a dream.  But I lived it like it actually happened.  I can still feel his glare like a leaden weight upon my heart.  It recalls my hurt.  My anger. My shock that I was never told.  My guilt for some how failing him.  It brings to the forefront the fear I’ve always carried that if something serious was to happen to him, I would never be told because his wife resents the place I hold in his heart.  My thoughts often return to this dream during the quiet moments of the day, leaving me heart sore.