Dream Giver

Dream Giver

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This feels choppy, and I’m not sure what details to include, or just let the moment speak for itself. So likely I will do a little of both. Just hang in there and hopefully you will be emotionally moved also.

When I shared the other day on a moment God gave me of Bill, one I promised I wouldn’t ask for another one, I just needed a moment so special I would be able to move forward in life, and God stepped in and blew me away. I hold the moment close to my heart–sometimes cling to it when the longing for Bill is intense and I feel without hope.

And I’ve stayed true to my promise. I haven’t asked God for special moments of Bill. I’m attempting to build a life moving forward with fond memories tagging along, like a favorite photo folded and stored in a wallet.

So imagine my surprise when I receive a call from a friend who has something to share–something about Bill.

She’s hesitant, not sure I will take it well, unknowing that what she is about to share I shared something so very similar in a blog post hours earlier, while she was sleeping.

“Josie, I had a dream of Bill.”

Josie was sitting either on a bench playing the piano or writing at a desk. I was next to her, told her, “Bill is watching over you Josie.” I turned toward the front door, which was slightly opened. Bill was outside the door, sitting, he was wearing a red short-sleeve-button-down shirt, maybe plaid, but not lumberjack plaid. With that smile we have always known him for. Porch light was on so I could see him clearly.

Here’s the kicker, she hasn’t read the blog post, and knows nothing of the dream another friend had of Bill watching over me, smiling.

And, I had another dream, or a partial moment, on July 15th, I write in my journal that morning:

The door bell woke me this morning from a deep sleep. I sit up, that foggy feeling you are not sure where you’re at. When I realize there is not one at the front door, and only in my head.

I’m sure it is nothing. But what if it is something? Like a wake-up call, or a date standing outside the door, telling me he is here. Waiting with corsage in hand. Waiting to take me out to a night of my dreams. Or, in this case, an early morning coffee.

On our first date Bill wore a red button-down shirt. Not plaid, but polo. Here is, sitting, waiting patiently for our next date.

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