Vivid dreams and goodbyes

A very good friend of mine lost  his battle with brain cancer recently, and I’ve been kind of torn up about it. I haven’t had much experience with people being taken from this earth way too early, and it has been a difficult adjustment. I knew it was coming, but you can never really be prepared for something like that. You always think you’ll see them one last time up to the very end. I am glad that I told him I loved him every time I saw him in the last 6 months, and he said it back, so I feel at peace with how we left it. But still, it’s awful. It makes you rage at how cancer can pass up a million assholes but attack one of the greats.

I think I’ve had a lot of stress lately because of it, which I’m sure contributed to the four day sinus headache I had this week, finally culminating in a migraine last night. I went to bed early and ended up having some of the most vivid dreams I’ve had in a very long time. Now, I’ve always been a vivid dreamer. My dreams are like short movies where I can see vibrant colors, feel many different emotions, and recognize textures by touch. They have plots and even have fully fleshed-out characters sometimes. Those dreams stick with me, and there are some nightmares that I remember every detail of even though it’s been at least a decade since I experienced it.

Well last night one dream in particular really hit me. I came into work and saw a coworker helping the newly deceased Mel bringing furniture into his lab space. I walk over and offer to help, and excited to see Mel again, I go over to him to give him a big hug. He jumps back, hands pulled back and says “oh no, I’m dead, don’t touch me. Trust me, you’ll think it’s weird.” I stopped in my tracks for a few moments before grabbing an end of a table to help him move it. More and more people showed up, some I recognized, some I didn’t. They were all a bit emotional, but all helped him consolidate his things. I came to realize we were helping him bring all his stuff together so that his family could come and bring them all home the next day.

It was so nice to see him again, and he was his old self. He had energy, smiled easily, and was joking with everyone while packing up the pieces of his life. At one point I was looking down and organizing something when I heard him say “Ok it’s time for me to go now.” When I looked up, Mel was quickly becoming whiter and whiter, and ice was forming on his body. I reached out to him and touched the tip of his fingers, which were now blue, cold and damp. The next thing I knew, he was just gone and I started bawling uncontrollably. My coworker and friend (he was her mentor) broke down and I hugged her for long minutes while everyone tried to process that he was really gone now.  I’m crying a bit now just writing about it.

I think I needed this dream. Yes it was hard to experience, but I felt like it gave me some closure, because it allowed me to go back to a time when the tumor in his brain hadn’t yet erased us all from his memory. Do I think this was Mel coming back to say goodbye? I don’t know. I’m sure it was my brain working through the stages of grief, but it’s a nice thought that he would say goodbye.

His memorial service is tomorrow.

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Vivid dreams and goodbyes

9 thoughts on “Vivid dreams and goodbyes

  1. Shellie Posavatz says:

    So sorry for your loss sister. I had no idea, we don’t talk enough darn it 😦 What an emotional read, I was crying just feeling for you. Love you!

  2. I love you very much and wish I could be there with you tomorrow. I’ll be thinking of you and sending you all the strong virtual hugs you can stand. Also will have my phone with me all day.

  3. We lost a friend – childhood friend really – a few years ago from cervical cancer. She was 29 and one of the sweetest people you could hope to meet. I still dream about her every now and again, maybe it’s her way of making sure she’s not forgotten.

    It’ll take a while to work through, mate. But there’s no rush.

  4. Oh god, Nicole – I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry! Get Kate to give you a big cuddle, the dogs too, and next time you see Keats give her one from me. I’ll be thinking of you both and Mel tomorrow during his memorial. This fucking sucks, it’s so unfair.

    And yeah, it takes a while to work this one through, my aunt died of brain cancer just over a decade ago. It doesn’t matter how long you have to see it coming, the violent rip of them going is just awful and takes ages to scar.

    love you

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