Beautiful Dreamer....

Some people have vivid dreams and can remember it the next day. I haven't remembered a dream for a quite some time. Yet, as I was getting the kid's breakfast ready, a picture of Gracie flashed in my mind's eye that I didn't recognize as a memory. I stopped, closed my eyes and waited. The dream re-surfaced and flooded my thoughts, and tears filled my eyes to the brim.

I could 'see' her. I could see my sweet baby Grace. She was in hospital, but was doing well. I was coming around the hall, turning the corner into her room, it was dimly lit. I saw her, and thought she was sleeping and didn't want to wake her but everything in me wanted to pick her up and hug and kiss that sweet little angel. As I walked closer, she turned and smiled at me. I ran to her, picked her up and held her and she snuggled in. She never spoke, but in her eyes I could see and hear what her heart was saying. Holding her felt so real, seeing her beautiful face was like seeing the most precious and long awaited gift. I gave her a bath, dressed her in a cute little outfit and we 'chatted,' not it words but in a shared love. It was beautiful.

I used to be very shaken after I would dream of Gracie. It would send me into a whirlwind of memories, and of sadness and loss. My grief counsellor suggested that I think of these dreams as a 'visit' with Gracie. Even though I know she is in heaven, dreaming allowed me a sneak peak of her again. It allowed me the luxury of imagining her presence and feeling her in my arms. I remember in my early days of grief, I would have to pretend that Gracie was in the bed next to me in order to fall asleep - I would hug her blanket and even though I knew it was ridiculous, I would convince my mind that she was there with me - allowing me a few hours of precious sleep. Dreaming allows for the same kind of luxury. Gracie's days were often difficult for her, but when she slept, she was at total peace. She was our beautiful dreamer. We often wondered what she would dream about, for it brought such a sweet countenance to her face. Perhaps she, our sleeping princess, was dreaming of the Prince of Peace that would soon awake her? Our beautiful dreamer...how I miss you.

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away.

Stephen Foster