Stephen Ghigliotty
Jul 10, 2017 · 3 min read

It was one of those dreams that happen in the morning, just before you wake, which are so very vibrant and visceral. In my new apartment, on the 31st floor of a lakefront building I rarely lower the blinds; so I typically wake as the sky lightens, even if that means a full moon at four in the morning is cresting. Last Friday morning, my mother and I reunited in a dream as the sky brightened.

She was sitting across from me in a small room, smiling and peaceful. It was as if I came upon her circumstantially and unexpected. Dressed in a bright blue unadorned outfit, she was not surprised to see me, but also not that concerned with my arrival. It was as if the scenario was to be expected…which I am sure is what my subconscious had painted in advance. But that assumption removes any magic that might have taken place, and I can’t do that, because I miss her so much.

We talked for a bit, and the subject was something I can’t recall, but she smiled just like she always did when we shared confidences. Like my brother and her father, each of them had a sparkle and glint in their eyes in these moments, especially when a laugh was soon forthcoming.

It was all very calm and soothing. We didn’t have any urgent issues to handle, it was just a mother and son catching up. But she also didn’t seem to notice anything had changed, which triggered me to think the same…

In many of my dreams, I am conscious of what is happening as they play out. I have stopped dreams and then restarted them. I have recast dreams with different people playing out the same parts. In this case I recall thinking, oh…Mom is still here, I had just dreamed she had passed on.

And then pure joyfulness rose around me. I was so very happy. This vision across from me, smiling and dressed in brilliant blue was my real mother, still alive, still funny, still clever, and still my best friend and confidant. It was like a trick from a show or movie; “Dallas” for example where we all wake from a dream and the plot is reversed. I was so excited to tell everyone that she was still with us.

Waking, I could still see her for sometime in my minds eye. Smiling and peaceful, but somehow disconnected. My intellectual self said, Stephen you are still processing the grief of losing your mother just nine months ago. And for the next couple of days, I drifted to the sad and lonely place of her loss.

Life goes on, with us or without us. But at least now I have a dreamscape vision in blue to remind me of what that feels like.

Stephen Ghigliotty

Written by

Advertising and technology immersed, but creativity rules in the end. Endlessly curious.