Finally ... I dreamed of my boy

Last night I dreamed of Al. It was the first time in over a year – something I’ve been yearning for. The other dreams were nightmares - dark and painful visions of him lying in a dark, damp coffin with him pleading for me to make him warm.

This dream was different. I was in a small church with my youngest. I think it was somewhere in Scotland. In some ways, I appear to be the typical Church of England member - I don’t ‘do’ church unless it’s for weddings, funerals or christenings. Of course, the main difference between me and other, real, genuine C of E members is that I don’t believe so I’ve no idea why I was in a church when I had no particular reason to be in one.

I was sat in the back row next to the aisle, which was on my right, and the entrance door was near the front to my left. A window ran the length of the wall to my left so the entrance area was clearly visible. All the seats, six in each row, were full. I was aware that my youngest, who was sitting way over to my right with a small group of girls, seemed to be enjoying herself as she sang a hymn. I liked that she was having fun and was glad that she could enjoy her religious experience – just because I can’t get my head around the possibility of a God existing, doesn’t mean she should be prevented from doing so.

One of the girls whispered something to her and she giggled. I fixed her eyes with mine, frowned, and shook my head to let her know that was inappropriate in a church. She mouthed, ‘Sorry’, tried to look suitably chastened, and with a smile on her face, continued singing. She knew I wasn’t really cross – just that she’d had a reminder of how to behave.

Then, through the glass to my left, he was there. Wearing a cap, and winking and poking his tongue out at me. I gave him the same stare that I’d given his sister seconds earlier but, knowing there was nothing I could do as it would disturb the service, he was taking full advantage and teasing me. I mouthed, “HAT OFF.” He grinned, winked again, and swivelled it round so that the peak was at the back and a tuft of fringe protruded through the gap in the back of the cap.

Again, I conveyed as much as I could with a look. The one that says, ‘OK we both know I am powerless to stop you right now. Yes, I get it that the joke’s on me. OK it is mildly amusing. But now will you just sit quietly and take that hat off before someone notices.’ His eyes caught someone looking at him, the hat came off, and his grin was replaced with a sheepish expression just before he winked at me again. Then he ambled out of view. There was nothing unusual about our exchange - we teased each other a lot when he was still around.

I woke almost immediately and felt calm. It hit me that I hadn’t realised he was dead and that there had been no panic or desperation when I saw him. Part of me wondered why I hadn’t realised and grabbed that much needed hug when I had the chance. But I’m glad it was as it was. During those brief moments, I enjoyed his company and it felt real and natural. I was happy and content.

Of course, as I type this today, I am crying. I miss him. I miss those little exchanges. It hurts so much. But it’s OK too. That old saying, 'it’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all’ has never been truer for me, than it is today.