My son and I share a problem this go around. Neither of us is sleeping. A nice 30 minute “chat” left us both bewildered on how to solve the problem. When he left last time, I started experiencing serious sleep deprivation. When I finally got some help for this from professionals, I would dream about my son several times per week. In my dreams, I could hear him walking up the stairs with his duffle bag. Thump, thump, thump. Then turning the key in the door and saying “hey mooooooooooooooom”. He sounds just like South Park’s Cartman when he does that.
In another dream he was sitting on the end of my bed telling me how he drove all night to get home. I could smell him. When I woke up, I sat up in bed and reached out to him to give him a hug. He wasn’t there.
I would wake up in the hallway some nights reaching out to nothing and confusing my dogs in the process. I’ve never been a dreamer in the literal sense. But during that time, my son and I had some really great discussions. A friend of mine stated that in some circles it would be considered time traveling. She believed that my son was coming to me in my dreams because he was away and he knew I needed to see him, smell him, hug him, and that he probably needed me too. I don’t know what it all meant, but I know that it was comforting to hear.
This time around the dreams are not sweet visits from my son. They are violent and involve images that I cannot shake even after my favorite cup of coffee is finished the next morning. Planes falling out of the sky. People hurting other people. I don’t know the actors in my dreams.
The dreams have subsided a bit as this deployment ends its 2nd month. No dreams at all this week that include violence. Just images that don’t make much sense. Wish I had taken that dream analysis class in college.
Pray for the families of the fallen this weekend.