I’ve heard from others that the dreams would come. Dreams about the deceased. Dreams about death. I’m not really a night dreamer (or if I am, I don’t often remember in the morning.) But last week, when we were up at my brother’s, I dreamed that I’d been diagnosed with some sort of cancer that could only be treated by drinking the milk of a special kind of cow. So I bought the cow, and my church came together to pay for the use of the large area of land it grazed on. Perhaps I was inspired by the green hills we’d been walking Christmas Eve. The dream shook me though. It was so vivid that it stayed with me till now. (The internet tells me that cows in dreams signify nurturing or motherhood, as well as docile nature.)
Last night, I dreamed that Vernon and I were going to renew our vows in a simple ceremony with family around. Afterward, he went missing, and we realized after a few hours that he was probably lost in the woods. Then I woke up, slightly panicked and sad.