• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer
Widow's Voice

Widow's Voice

  • Soaring Spirits
  • Donate
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • YouTube
  • Home
  • Blog
  • Categories
  • Authors
    • Kelley Lynn
    • Emily Vielhauer
    • Emma Pearson
    • Kathie Neff
    • Gary Ravitz
    • Victoria Helmly
    • Lisa Begin-Kruysman

Broken Dreams

Posted on: July 30, 2019 | Posted by: Mike Welker

I don’t often dream.  Not the metaphorical “dream” or anything like that, just regular old dreams when I’m sleeping.  They just don’t happen. Even when they do, they seemingly are just five seconds of me sitting in my living room or something.  There isn’t anything crazy happening or odd traits like being able to fly. It’s plainly boring.

However, I did have a longer dream last night…the first in months that lasted more than a minute.  Again, still nothing interesting. I was driving somewhere. That was it. Regardless, it got me thinking.

I used to have vivid dreams.  I could wake up and describe them.  Remember them. Recall every detail of any random dream, and they would last for what felt like hours, with all sorts of odd events happening.  They were reliably consistent, and even when they would be disturbing or “bad” dreams, at least I could recall them.

Now though, and ever since Megan died, it seems that well has dried up.  I can recall one just after she died, where she was present, and since then, five years later, I can count them on as many fingers.

Actually HAVING a dream is enough to prompt me to think about why.  I don’t care if it was some crazy thing, or if Megan was present, saying something to me, or even if it was a nightmare…why don’t I dream at night anymore?

Is something broken?  Is there some supernatural force guiding this, and since Megan doesn’t really have anything to say, there’s no need to show up right now?   I mean, Sarah is usually present (she was sitting in the passenger seat last night), but even then, it’s quiet. I thought I was supposed to have all of these dreams where Megan was present after death, guiding me abstractly and saying she was proud of me or something.

It’s not that I NEED this.  It doesn’t even bother me that I don’t really dream.  It’s just…weird, I guess. Especially since they used to be so common.  They were like TV to me. Entertainment, but in general, meaningless, and I could do without it.  

If my TV suddenly disappeared with no explaination though, I would obviously wonder what happened.  I would investigate what else was missing, and try to pinpoint a root cause for its disappearance. Especially if it randomly showed back up in my living room once a year, only displaying a ten-second show about a guy who just stands there, before vanishing again.

Sarah dreams all the time.  She’s constantly describing and remembering them, so I don’t believe there’s any environmental factor contributing to this lack.  I haven’t changed much in the way of habits, diet, routine, or sleep schedule since Megan’s death. I’m in the same job, in the same house, in the same bedroom.  The major shift has been that Megan isn’t around anymore, either physically, or in dreams.

Something’s just “off”, and has been for the past five years or so.  I’m simply curious as to what is causing it, now that I think about it.  There’s no screaming for relief from dark nights. There isn’t any waking up, disappointed that nothing happened in my subconscious.  I’m not seeking answers from Megan, or the ability to fly, or to see a vampire fighting bigfoot while riding a unicycle.

I just want to know why my dreams are broken.

Categories: Widowed, Widowed Parenting, Widowed Memories, Widowed Signs from Loved One, Widowed by Illness

About Mike Welker

Three months after my discharge from the Marine Corps, at 22 years old, I met my wife Megan, on December 10th, 2002. The very next day, I was drawn like a moth to a flame into dealing with a long term, terminal illness. Megan had Cystic Fibrosis, and after 8 years or declining health, she received a double lung transplant, and a new lease o life. Our daughter Shelby was born in 2007. In early 2014, those recycled lungs, which had brought our little family three years of uncomplicated health and happiness, finally began to give out. She died from chronic organ transplant rejection on November 19th, 2014 while I held her hand and let her go. I'm a single father and widower at 34 years old, and no one has published a manual for it. I don't fit the mold, because there is no mold. I "deal with it" through morbid humor, inappropriateness, anger, and the general vulgarity of the 22 year old me, as if I never grew up, but temper it with focus on raising a tenacious, smart, and strong woman in Shelby. I try to live as if Megan is still here with us, giving me that sarcastic stare because yet again, I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

TO LEAVE A COMMENT ON A BLOG, sign in to the comments section using your Facebook or Gmail accounts, or sign up for Disqus.

Primary Sidebar

Footer

Quick Links

  • Home
  • Blog
  • Categories
  • Authors

SSI Network

  • Soaring Spirits International
  • Camp Widow
  • Resilience Center
  • Soaring Spirits Gala
  • Widowed Village
  • Widowed Pen Pal Program
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • YouTube

Contact Info

Soaring Spirits International
2828 Cochran St. #194
Simi Valley, CA 93065

Email: [email protected]

Phone: 877-671-4071

Soaring Spirits International is a 501(c)3 Corporation EIN#: 38-3787893. Soaring Spirits International provides resources with no endorsement implied.

Copyright © 2023 Widow's Voice. All Rights Reserved.