Can I tell you about a recurring dream I used to have when I was younger?
You see, about a year or so after Mum died in 1983 I started to have this dream. In this dream woke up one morning and suddenly she was there, back in our lives. Dad explained that she hadn’t actually died.
Everyone else in the family seemed okay with this and were happy that she was there. I was as well, but I was also as confused as hell because I was the only one who asked where she’d been and why we’d been told that she died. The young me in this dream kept repeating those questions. Why was I told that she’d died? Why had she suddenly come back? Why won’t she tell me where she’d been? Why isn’t anyone else bothered about this?
That’s more or less all I can remember about this dream, but it was a dream I had time and time again during my teenage years, and it’s pretty obvious why the fourteen-year-old me was having this dream.
In a way it’s similar to the dream I wrote about here a few years ago, the one where my brother Michael and I found ourselves back in 1982, eighteen months before she passed away. (Read it here: https://twoshedsreview.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-time-travel-dream-should-we-tell.html) It’s also pretty obvious what my young mind wanted forty years ago, and what my middle-aged mind would like now.
You see, about a year or so after Mum died in 1983 I started to have this dream. In this dream woke up one morning and suddenly she was there, back in our lives. Dad explained that she hadn’t actually died.
Everyone else in the family seemed okay with this and were happy that she was there. I was as well, but I was also as confused as hell because I was the only one who asked where she’d been and why we’d been told that she died. The young me in this dream kept repeating those questions. Why was I told that she’d died? Why had she suddenly come back? Why won’t she tell me where she’d been? Why isn’t anyone else bothered about this?
That’s more or less all I can remember about this dream, but it was a dream I had time and time again during my teenage years, and it’s pretty obvious why the fourteen-year-old me was having this dream.
In a way it’s similar to the dream I wrote about here a few years ago, the one where my brother Michael and I found ourselves back in 1982, eighteen months before she passed away. (Read it here: https://twoshedsreview.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-time-travel-dream-should-we-tell.html) It’s also pretty obvious what my young mind wanted forty years ago, and what my middle-aged mind would like now.
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