Such a Real Dream

I dreamed of Devon last night.  I was desperate to make people understand something, or to give them a warning, and no one would listen or believe me.  Except for Devon, my angel.  “I’ll help you, Oma,” he said as he put his hand in mine.  I felt it.  I heard it.  When he hugged me I could feel the warmth of his body against mine and even smell the “Devon smell” of him as his head pressed up against my cheek.  Then the phone rang and I woke with a start to cold reality.  It felt as if he had just been ripped from my arms and taken from me.  Why did I have to wake up?  There are times when I wish I could live in that dream world instead of being here in the cold where everything is so difficult some times.  Why is reality such a great thing?  I keep forgetting.


About griefsjourney

Neal's mom. Devon's and Ian's Oma.
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