When David was in elementary school, I had a dream. I was walking through David's day with him, but I was seeing it as he sees it. And it was amazing! My senses were on overload through it all - every light was so much brighter, every sound so much richer (or sharper, or discordant), colors were vivid in the extreme, smells assaulted me and the slightest movements caught my eye and brought me endless fascination.
I remember sitting on the mat with him during class, fixated on the way the light patterned on the window from the blowing leaves of a tree outside the door. I could see it in prisms, the ebb and flow of the scattered patterns as the wind lifted the branches, and then I listened for the wind and heard the hum of the heater panel nearby and I swear I could feel its vibration in the floor. I put my hand down to feel it just as David did, and the teacher told us both to pay attention.
I spent hours with him, seeing as he saw, trying to understand people who talked too fast and sometimes the words weren't in the right order or it was like they were using more words, extra words. And none of what they said was nearly as interesting as the whole bright, loud, vibrating world around them that they seemed to tune out. They would speak and I'd hear words repeat repeat repeat in my head even after they were done, like long, drawn-out echoes of what I should have heard but didn't at first.
When I woke from the dream, I went into David's room, crawled into bed beside him, wrapped him in my arms and wished I could go back into his world again, just for a little while. It was amazing. That dream still lingers.
Two weeks ago, I had a dream that was much closer to a nightmare. I dreamed I was driving--with Anna in the passenger seat--and realized that I was hallucinating as we drove. The passing countryside looked like a cartoon--it was literally like I was driving through an episode of The Simpsons. I pulled over immediately and told Anna I was hallucinating and it wasn't safe for me to drive. She responded with an odd, pitying look. Then she asked me where I thought I was.
Suddenly I was on a gurney, being rolled away from an ambulance. Anna was standing next to it and she looks so stricken and sad--I realized that I must have had another stroke and this time it affected my cognitive abilities and not just my body. I was put in some sort of convalescent home. I was conscious of time passing in the dream, and a lot of it, but I didn't always know what day it was. I didn't always realize how much time had passed. I remember asking for both of my kids, and the doctors and nurses kept telling me that I'd get to see them eventually. But I never did. I just remember being so sad and lonely and trapped in my body. I knew it was probably better that the kids weren't seeing me like this, but it was hard.
Yeah, that one haunted me. Still haunts me.
What about you? Have you ever had a dream that haunted you (good or bad)?