Out of the Valley: Dream Sequence

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Dream Sequence

For the last few nights I've been trying to dream about Jim. A few times in my life I've been able to kind of direct my dreams but it hasn't been successful in bringing Jim to my dreams. I'm just missing him and want to see him so I was hoping for a good dream, but it just hasn't manifested. So this morning I decided rather than wait for a dream I was going to do a sort of guided visualization. Here is what I saw.

It started with Dharma in her window yelping with delight. She has a different bark for strangers than she does with people she recognizes, and I knew she recognized who was at the door. I opened the door to see Jim standing there. I fell into his arms, knowing it wasn't real, but going with it, knowing how much I needed to feel his arms encircle me.

I hugged him and held him and held him and held him. Finally, we came inside and we sat down on the couch, our arms around each other. I wanted to sit where I could see him and feel him I just didn't want that moment to go away. There was so much to say, to ask, but all I could do was tell him how much I loved him and how much I missed him. Jim said he was always there, he was always with me, but that he couldn't stay physically here. He wanted me to know that he was always looking out for me. In life and now he would do what he could to keep me safe. He reassured me he would always be there watching out for me.

He helped me see that he was always with me, in my heart, in my spirit, in the very air around me. Somehow I knew it was time for him to go and I just squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to watch him go, to lose him all over again. All of a sudden light just shattered into 1 million pieces in front of my eyelids and I knew that he was gone, but that his light and the light of his love and the light of the spirit's love is around me always.

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About this blog

On May 3, 2013, a bronchoscopy confirmed my husband, Jim McConnell, who would turn 53 two days later, had stage IV cancer. He fought valiantly, never ever giving up hope, always with a sense of humor. We had shirts made for all of us that read: Cancer Sucks: Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the toughest SOB in the valley. An incredibly short journey of nine months later, I had the joy and sadness of saying good morning to my husband Jim for the very last time. After going through initial stages we all go through, the shock, the numbness, the disconnect I realized I was on a new journey. It was no longer our journey, it was mine alone. I traveled with him into the valley of the shadow of death, but he had to go on alone Where he had to step, it is not yet my time. In the beginning of my solo journey, I pictured myself at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, a beautiful spot, and indeed, my life with Jim, despite his cancer, had been a beautiful life. We were blessed in so many ways. Yet in those long months after his death, I felt I was at the bottom of a very deep, dark, primeval place, my own Phantom Ranch, and I needed all my strength to climb out. I am getting stronger, and now, it’s my turn to take a step on my own, to somehow figure out how to climb out of the valley.