Last night I was reading Donna's Cancer Story on a blog called Mary Tyler Mom (MTM). Donna was an amazing little girl, taken too soon by cancer.
Donna fought her cancer for 31 months, and last year her mom wrote a post a day for 31 days - each post covered approximately one month of Donna's fight. I read the first 8 of 31 posts about Donna's fight, and when I realized that it was well past my bedtime, I closed down the blog.
Within the last entry that I had read, though, MTM said that she found herself looking at her baby, who was the sickest in the room full of patients, and being jealous of the other cancer kids who weren't as sick. She commented that you know how sick your own child is when you are jealous of other cancer patients.
As I read those words, part of me could relate, and I guess that transferred into my dreams, because I dreamt that Catelyn was still alive, but that instead of our true reality - a few days in the hospital, where we expected she would be well again soon enough - we were told that Catelyn was facing a terminal illness, and that we would make the best of each day as they were given to us. In my dream, my whole outlook was changed. We weren't just cuddling up on the couch or in the recliner with Catelyn talking about when we'd get back to our regular life, we were making the most of each and every second.
This may seem like torture, but I assure you, it was not. My dream, was amazing. We were back at the Children's Hospital with Catelyn - she wasn't dead, she was just sick. While you could tell she wasn't herself, she still had a bit of Catelyn pep - some people, including me, would even call it sassiness. But it was enjoyable, no matter how you phrase it.
We were regularly visiting the hospital to do treatments to help her live longer. Though her timeline was unknown, I didn't even care. I was holding my baby again. She wanted to snuggle with her dad and I (just as she did in reality), and she was a busy bee - playing with games, reading books, eating and drinking (unlike her actual stay).
It was odd, even though I was dreaming, I somehow knew that her previous reality had been altered, and I was so grateful for the second chance.
The problem was that this dream seemed so real. Too real.
The kind of real that makes you look for your child when you wake up. The kind of real that brings your life to an alarming halt.
I haven't had one of these dreams in months...probably not since about a month after Catelyn's death.
My reality was that I woke up and expected Catelyn to be there...but she wasn't.
What a crushing blow landed by reality.