“Bubba, we are going to dream today.”

He looks aimlessly around, searching for the man who would sit in the chair every morning and give him a “love down”, that special rub-down from daddy to doggie. Now he looks at me, and sighs.

He will guide my dreams, and me.

This morning while still in bed, I pondered the bigger decisions in life, like where to live and what to do with the rest of my time here. When the first email arrives in my inbox–about how I am exactly where God wants me to be.

Yes, I am.

The second one was a post on grief, and dreaming, and to continue to dream today.

Grief tries to kill my dreams by saying it’s too soon to dream.

If I don’t dream, I’LL JUST DIE.

I am reading in the first part of Matthew today. It is all on dreams.

Multiple times, through dreams, both Joseph and Magi are directed/guided…

One step at a time
One day at a time

Moment by moment their dreams kept them alive, for if not for the dream, they would have died.

Literally.

…

The last time I touched you, I felt the cold set in. The heat had left your body.

I rub the box of your remains as if you feel my touch. I know you are not really there, but in reality you are.

It comforts the deep longing to have you near. I look at the warmth of the fireplace insert. The one you gave me on our last anniversary together.

I ache so deeply.

Last night I cried uncontrollably as I lay on the bed. It may have been the three glasses of wine that released the pent-up emotional toll underneath. I don’t know.

I miss your touch. Everything I see reminds me of you.

Your loud clap that would last seconds after the last one clapping, would cause my head to cower in embarrassment.  I long to be brought head-low by your performance.

Instead my head bends at the grief of your passing.

Two weeks, plus one day.

When will I stop counting the days past, and instead look forward to the days in front of me?

And further still, to the day when I see your face in front of mine, and I slowly reach out and touch the warmth of your cheek?