I am in a full on flare right now and find it nearly impossible to sleep with the pain.  After four days of only an hour or two of rest, I decided drugs were in order.

The problem with lack of sleep, tranquillizers, and me is that they don’t work right away but when they do, I find it nearly impossible to wake up and my dreams are a mish-mash of everything I have managed to stuff away for a while. 

This morning was no exception.  I was not able to sleep until almost 4am and then I dreamed of Jeff.  In my dream, I was on the phone with him and suddenly realized it was December 15th, 2006 and in a few hours he would be dead.

I began to cry and told him he was my best friend and I loved him.  I was screaming it into the phone in an unintelligble rant.  I didn’t try to stop him.  I didn’t tell him in a few hours he would be gone.  I just kept telling him I loved him.

Usually when I have such a dream, I wake myself up in tears.  I didn’t this time, I just went right on sleeping, my mind jumping around from item to item.  It was upon waking and remembering the dream that the weight of it hit me.

Jeff and I always said we loved each other when we parted.  The only thing he didn’t know, the only small regret I have is that until he was gone, I didn’t know how very much he meant to me.  He was the only person I allowed to hug me and he never knew that.

It is strange how grief turns on you, working on you from so many different angles.  How when you think you have moved past the worst part it, it creeps in and smacks you in the face, reminding you it is still there, still requires your attention.