THE WIND PHONE
My Mother Visited Me in A Dream Last Night
It was unlike any dream I’ve had before
I’ve never felt as loved and cared for as I did in my dead mother’s arms.
In the dream, she stood in a room, dressed in a white blouse and a butter-yellow skirt, and appeared to be in her thirties. Her blonde hair was a bit shorter and more helmet-like than in real life, but it looked good and glowed golden.
I was younger, but I wasn’t a child as I would have been when my mother was young and at her most mother-like. Her arms were open, and I went in for a hug. I could feel affection and warmth radiating from her, and while I couldn’t see it, I knew she was smiling.
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “Although this will sound like a lie, I miss you.”
“I love you too,” my mom said. I began to cry softly and wished I never had to leave my mother’s embrace.
It has been decades since I’ve felt this way.
Once I hit my teen years, my mother and I weren’t close
Like everyone, my mother was a mix of good and less desirable qualities. While she wasn’t diagnosed, she was a narcissist and required adoration. If she weren’t the center of attention, she’d do…
