I’ve written about my dreams a lot here. I live with this daily. Sometimes like over the past month they have lessoned, unsure why. Maybe having someone with me is making me feel more safe and secure. Anyways one type I still have is breaking my heart. Death. I’m not scared of it. Heck I tried to die twice. I know it’ll happening, hopefully many years away. So I don’t understand them happening so often. One a few weeks on still plays on my mind.
I was at the beach, after a storm. The ocean was extremely ruff and deafening loud. I thought I heard my name, thought I was going crazy. Then I saw them my step sons a metre or so from shore. Waves bashing them about like rag dolls. They were screaming Kelz, them mummy, mummy help. Helppp. I was rooted on the spot. I couldn’t swim well. I screamed back that I’d get help. Frantically looking about there was no one. Then I look back as both my precious boys disappeared from sight. I woke shaking and nearly in tears. I’d do anything for those boys.
I’d give anything to stop dreaming about death. Anything