Dark Glass

I have said I do not dream because I have aphantasia. Normally this is true. However, not long after Caleb died I had a few nightmares with Caleb in them. Maybe I should say night terrors, but as horrific as they were, I also wanted them to continue just so I could see him. Note that my saying I could see him is generous as aphantasia tends to allow only wispy, vague outlines that are only identifiable for unknown reasons. I was only allowed to talk with him the first time. Upon waking I did not recall anything said, but I remember after I escaped the horror, sitting with him at a table on a train and having a conversation.

The other dreams I could only see his apparition from afar. I have a few photos of him and if I want to remember his face I have to look at one. I do not get to see him in my memories of him, only that they occurred. The one thing I want more than anything is to see my son again, and these horrific terrors are the closest I can come, and as much as I loathe these terrors that haunted my childhood, I so wish I could see him and hate that my inability to dream is just one more thing keeping him further away from me.

I have spent the last two weeks trying to reflect on Jesus, His last days, crucifixion and resurrection. I enjoy this season so much, yet Caleb permeates every thought. Our most joyous day, the thing that gives us hope that we can see our loved ones again, is the resurrection and ascension of our Lord.

Caleb was baptized, fully believing in Jesus as his Lord and Savior at age seven. One only knows another’s heart by watching them. Ten years after that profession of faith, he was King of Logic, the Buster of the Curve, yet he made sure to protect the underdog. He would sit with the outcasts and love on them.

Almost eight years after his death and today hurts worse now than day one. I do not cry, yell, or fall apart the same, but that would be like a pressure release valve. I’m fidgety, almost nervous. C. S. Lewis said it’s like fear. Maybe I am fearful this will never end. The lack of dreams or being able to see him clearly in my memories is yet another gut punch. I should have hope in seeing him again one day, I’m often told. Will I? Will I know him the same way I do in my night terror, wispy, thin, vague? Will he be there at all?

I have been thinking about this so much the last week. Sometimes I just want to sit, talk, and mostly laugh again. He was so much like me that I feel like most of me is gone without him.

Today, his absence was a weight on my chest like I have not felt in many years. With every breath I struggled to inhale and exhaled a I Miss You.