in dreams

My mother died three years ago this month: I miss her. In all that time I’ve dreamed about her twice. I used to long to dream about her so I could have her back, if only for a tiny snatch of time. But she never came, and I stopped expecting her. This week, when I’ve been ill, I’ve missed her more than usual.

Last night, I dreamed I was sitting on the sofa talking to Isaac and Wendy about how hard I try not to offer advice on parenting unless I am asked for it. Isaac said I do very well. The phone rang, and when I picked it up there was the familiar voice - “Hello, my love. How are you? I’ve been wondering about…” and I was so overwhelmed with happiness I woke up and lost her again. But it was so very wonderful to have her visit.