James’ Coat

It’s a funny thing about loss.

Sometimes our loved ones enter our dreams unannounced in various ways, but other times when we want to see them in our dreams – nothing.

I have had my fair share of dreams early on after James died, that he had not actually died and it was all a big mistake. The temporary relief that would wash over me like a cool breeze, was far outweighed by the dark cloud of sadness that confronted me upon awakening.

Since it’s been 4 years now, I’m not surprised that he does not visit me in my dreams – as much as I wished he would. However, earlier this week I had a dream about his coats.

Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe

In my dream, I had not yet gotten rid of all of his belongings. His coats were hanging in front of me, all in a row. It was a sharp and lucid dream. His favorite coat, an old brown, Carhartt canvas jacket, was front and center. It was the one he wore the most. I grabbed it in my dream and buried my face into it and could still smell him on the coat. I awoke with such sadness, but tried my best to push it aside. I tramped downstairs, made my coffee and got on with my day.

But the dream won’t leave me this week. It haunts me at every turn like a fresh wound. What the hell? I can’t shake it. My rational mind knows that with Covid, and increased, prolonged isolation, we are all battling a mild depression. Add the merry-go-round of grief and it’s a perfectly blended cocktail of self-pity and hopelessness.