Two nights ago, I had another "visit" from Sam. Since we've been back in the house, I've definitely felt her presence or energy around a lot more. And why not? Living humans are electrochemical reactors. They give off residual energy. She lived in this house for a decade - and died in it - so it makes sense that her imprint would still be here, fire, flood and all. Moreover, we both maintained a belief in the persistence of the human soul, and my experience throughout this ordeal has only cemented that belief.
Anyway, I've never just had casual narrative-style dreams about my deceased loved ones. They are without fail timely, engaging and extremely real - moreso than any other kind of dream. And they usually happen very infrequently (Sam is the exception to the rule, but given our relationship... well, Sam was always the exception to the rule, regardless). They are more in the realm of visits or communications. My brother, uncle and grandfather have all visited me in the past, and a favorite great aunt once physically appeared to me in the antique rocking chair we had. And more recently, my father has visited in dreams, and Sam has racked up a lot of dreamtime with me - not that I mind at all. Bring 'em on!
The previous dream I posted about was very upbeat and happy. We laughed and hugged and she complimented me on the house. This time, however, the mood was solemn - almost somber. I was sitting (sans clothing) on a long Victorian sofa. It resembled the green wingback sofa and armchair we used to have when we first moved in together, but looked faded and older, and the couch itself was huge; it seemed to go on forever into the dark. The room in which I sat was also dark. The only light seemed to be eminating from right in front of Samantha.
So I'm sitting naked on an infinite couch in the dark, while Sam kneels on the floor and begins to wash me with a cool, wet cloth. I remember making jokes and trying to be funny (you'd think it could easily have been one of those dreams), but she was very serious, and almost sad. It was very tender, and totally non-sexual. She just continued to bathe me with the wet cloth.
Tangent: Come to think of it, this would be a complete reversal of when she was winding down and couldn't move so well, and I would wash her. Although the setting was different (she was on a shower stool in the bathtub, and the water was nice and warm), it was no less tender. Caring for someone in the weeks and days before death is a transformational and emotionally bonding experience. Just taking a trip to the bathroom becomes intensely close. I remember she would fade in and out of lucidity, and every once in a while she would look up at me as I held her steady on the toilet. She'd flash me a sheepish look and an embarrassed smile - this self-proclaimed Cast Iron Bitch, this force of nature, reduced to teetering on the pot with her husband holding her steady. Once, she thanked me for taking care of her. "You'd do the same for me," I replied. "Yes I would," she answered, and I knew it was true.
I know water can symbolize emotions, and being naked can mean emotional vulnerability. But does it make sense that I was cracking jokes the whole time - just like Sam used to do in the hospital? Was that my way of dealing with the lingering hurt and loneliness, by displaying a facade of humor and confidence? And what does it mean when your lost love tenderly washes you with a sad expression? Seems she might be working on helping me shed the past emotional anchors to her - and that would be a less-than-happy task to accomplish. If anyone has any input, I'm all ears.
Tyler is sick today - stupid change-of-season cold has been going around for weeks now. I've been taking my supplements, my green tea, my StemEnhance and the occasional Airborne (if I feel symptomatic). So far, so good. Lots of stuff going on right now. Can't really afford to be sick.
My bedroom furniture came yesterday. My room smells like cedar. The kids hate it, but I LOVE it.
Dining Room rehearsals continue (we open in 4 weeks), and the fundraiser cabaret is Friday night. Final callbacks for Ordinary Angels is Saturday. Kayleigh's slumber party is Saturday night. Run run run.
Been listening to the new Trespassers William CD. For those unfamiliar with this LA-Seattle transplant quartet, they make the most beautifully haunting melodic alternative rock. Somewhat like Mazzy Star or The Doves or even an ethereal Cowboy Junkies. Or a mellow, downtempo version of And Tears Fell. I fell in love with their music about 7 years ago when I was doing the Starbug project and they were a fellow MP3.COM artist (along with Mira). And now they're up here - hope I can see them live one of these days. I know it's shocking - Todd still listens to mope rock. Yeah, what can I say? I've always had a dark streak - now I don't feel I need to hide it. :)