The dream with the holiday, the hugs and the return to happiness

Yesterday I woke up at 5am, full of the joys of spring and determined to go for a run. The sun shone through the trees and the birds sang loudly. I smiled as I stretched my legs, proud to have managed six bursts of fast running in the two miles. still in my gear I make Michelangelo’s lunch before having a bath and starting work early. Around 2pm I start to get pains in my uterus and move to my bed. I fall asleep with a headache, curled up, holding my abdomen. This is where Michelangelo finds me at 6pm.

We have dinner reservations so I dress quickly and shuffle outside. I sit uncomfortably at the table looking miserable. Having recently stopped my medication I now suffer with vertigo and headaches from the withdrawal but even these, including the pain, are better than the horrible nightmares that have terrified me over the last few months. To lighten the mood Michelangelo asks about our holiday and I tell him what a day on the white isle is like. I drift off, instantly transported to a sun-soaked memory, where I am happy and free.

Back in bed, in uncontrollable pain, hot water bottle between my legs, I cry and pray to God to help me. When I woke this morning I knew he had:

The dream begins with a complication, some problem or frustrating restriction that I am sure is my minds way of trying to understand what is happening to my body. I also took codeine at some point. I am attempting to be med free but the pain was unbearable. Fortunately, instead of escalating into the usual nightmare with gritted teeth and shouting, I manage to calmly explain away the problem in my dream and I am brought to a room where the head of program for my Masters sit with a panel of university professionals. I am not dressed properly, unprepared and know this is the wrong room but the assembly of these people mean one thing … this is my Viva hearing.

The woman beside me is a cleaner. She goes through her notes carefully. I wonder what her argument is and decide it is most likely simple and original. She stands and takes a place at the lecturn. I do not hear her speak but see the panel nodding enthusiastically. She is awarded her PhD. I am next. I begin nervously as I answer questions. I ramble a little yet I know what my research is about, I know what moved me to take up this work and keep at it. I become confident. I relax, if I am not good enough for an academic institute then there are plenty others who would be glad to have me. My teacher asks me to stand to the side. He points over to a dusty part of the room and I am sad as I am never good enough. He sits on podung chair and asks me more about the work I do. We talk casually and I forget about the Viva. I tell him about the homeless people I help, the displaced children and abused women; I tell him how I use creative writing to stimulate well-being with my colleagues at work. He puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles.

Michelangelo collects me from the university steps. He hugs me and tells me he is proud of me. We drive to the airport and he has our baggage. I weigh our suitcase, nervous as I did not pack it and I am worried he has packed too much. The bag weighs only 18 kilos. I am so happy as we do not have to worry. We head to a bar where I sit and he goes to order.

An old woman sips a martini beside me. ‘Tell me about your day’ she says . I tell her that I was accepted to do my PhD from an MPhil. I am not sure how I feel about it. I doubt if I am good enough. The lady tells me to stand up. She opens her arms and hugs me. She envelopes me in bright white light and I know instantly that she is an Angel.

I stand embraced in pure love and respect. I give in, I surrender to her love. Everything is as it should be.

That’s all I needed. My dreams have been horrible and full of fear for far too long. The angels are back. Love, light and guidance on my path. For this I am grateful.

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