Mom’s SleepingJune 20, 2011
This probably isn’t scary, or even creepy, but it’s something that keeps me up at night whenever I dream about it.
My mother passed away 5 years ago after fighting an undiagnosed chronic pain syndrome which was quelled by heavy narcotics medication. My mother took this medication for years. By the time she died, she took enough medication every day that would kill an entire family, her body was so used to it. But one day her body couldn’t filter the poison and she died in her sleep from a buildup of medication. The autopsy revealed it as an accidental overdose.
For the last two years she was alive, she was almost constantly sedated. She slept through the day, and she slept like the dead. You couldn’t wake her up. I saw her fully awake during daylight maybe once a week. Within a week after she died, I forgot what my mother’s voice sounded like because I just hadn’t heard it in so long.
For the past 4 years, I’ve had a recurring dream, almost like a series. It started when I came home from school, about a year after my mother died. My dad greeted me and said “Get in the truck, we’re going to go pick up Mom.”
It was a lucid dream. “Mom?” I wondered aloud. “Mom’s dead.”
“Well, no, the doctors just found out she was sleeping really deep. She just woke up and she wants to come home.”
This still confused me. My mom had been cremated, and her ashes sit in an urn on my desk. How could she have been asleep and just woke up? Nevertheless, I went with my dad and my family. We drove for a couple of hours, to a lone house in the middle of the prairie. Looked like an old general store. And coming out of it, was my mother, alive as you and I. I laughed, I cried, and I ran out to hug her. I told her “Mom I thought you were dead!” And I remember hearing the words “I was just sleeping, sweetie,” but I don’t remember what they sounded like.
We drove home and got out of the car, and headed inside. I got my mom a bowl of ice cream. Chocolate chip cookie dough – her favorite. Mom sat down and ate it while watching Lord of the Rings, and when she was done, she laid down on the couch, where she had slept for the last two years of her life. “I feel really tired. Get me my pillow and blanket?” I obeyed. My mom smiled and thanked me, and drifted off to sleep.
Now, whenever I dream of my mother, she’s still on the couch, throughout the entire dream. She’s alive, but always sleeping, unable to be disturbed or woken up. I know she’s dead, but I see her, lying on the couch, forever asleep.