How long had she been sitting on the bench overlooking the lake, crying in a way that she had, quite literally, never cried before? When she finally began to compose herself, it was dark.
“Dammit,” she muttered, as she searched her bag for a tissue. She could feel her eyelids swelling and her head was beginning to throb.
She looked out at the lake, bathed in moonlight now, and remembered the last time she sat on this very bench with him.
“Write him a letter. Tell him how you feel,” Dr. Nolan said during one of their weekly sessions. “You don’t have to mail it. We’ll deal with whether or not you should do that at a later date. Your assignment this week is simply to write.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” she declared matter-of-factly.
“You might need to work at it gradually. It may be too difficult for you to write everything you need to say in one sitting. You may have to write it all down over the course of the week. And, frankly, you may not be finished by the time we next meet. This may be an ongoing process for a period of time. But this week I want you to get started. Next week we’ll assess your progress.”
“Why are you asking me to do this?” she asked pointedly.
I awoke with a start. I was disoriented, confused . . . it took me a moment to realize where I was. In fact, I was right at home in my own warm, comfortable bed.
So why had I awakened so forcefully and with such a jolt?
I got up and stumbled about the house for a few moments, wandering aimlessly from room to room in my still-sleepy stupor. I held a glass under the water dispenser on the front of the refrigerator, letting the icy cold splash over my fingers and drag me further from my hazy state. Then, as the chilled water trickled down my throat and I felt every molecule coursing toward my empty stomach, the pain in my chest allowed the details to slowly begin permeating my consciousness.
I slumped down on one of the couches in the family room, joined by all of my beloved four-footed children who expressed their love and concern for me with their purring, licking, nuzzling, and snuggling.
And as I sat there rubbing their ears and bellies, I remembered fully the details of the dream that had disturbed my peaceful slumbering.
I was on a roller coaster with my beloved. We were laughing, talking, our hair was flying. We were in the front row of the car, speeding along the tracks. I can’t remember whether there were any other people on the ride with us, but I do recall that the air was warm and the sky was a perfectly beautiful blue with a few light clouds. I remember thinking about the sky as the car was climbing up, up, up the track, slowly chugging toward the top.