Last night I woke up suddenly with a bad dream. It was three in the morning. In my dream, my daughter had died. It had been the most unusual death for such a young girl; her heart had simply stopped and she had collapsed in the middle of some activity. I was completely broken to pieces. I remember being held by my mother and weeping on her shoulder. I remember it was a relief, almost pleasurable, being able to cry like this. And I also remember this odd feeling of, in spite of the pain, being with her, my little girl, as if she was within me for ever, and I could feel her, as a physical experience. I was profoundly sad, but my sadness was warm, sweet, as if she was embracing me and I felt her small arms around me all the time. I think I would never feel like that if one of them really died; however, in the dream, there I was, feeling so sad and peaceful at the same time, as if my late child, no matter what, would be within me forever, as if she was unborn again, an unshaped baby lying in my grave tummy.
There were other oddnesses, though. She had died and I had felt the signs; I remember thinking about that, like, oh, I knew this was going to happen, I felt this funny chest ache and I just ignored it, and now this. It was as if her body and my body were just one. Then I had to tell her brother about it, but it was her asking me, mom, where is Jake?, and I remember thinking I must be tactful because she is so young and she won't understand... Which doesn't make sense, really, because if she had died, it would have been her brother having to be told about it. And then she was much, much younger than she really is, and I knew she would cry so much for her brother whom she loves beyond anything in this world; and again my sadness, a huge powerful sadness for this little child... Which child, I wonder? Is it a third child I have never had; is it that child I lost so many years ago; is it me? I don't know. It was just a bad dream, after all.