Bad Dream

I had the window above the sink open
while cleaning the kitchen after dinner.
  The air coming through had been cool
in the warm kitchen, but it was late and
I was heading to bed.  I reached to close
and lock the window when a man’s face
appeared, staring right at me, separated
by only the screen.  His face was hard,
and his eyes were evil. I startled and
jumped back, which was the wrong
thing to do because it allowed him space
to come through the window.

Terror.  I woke in sheer terror.  It was so real, I could feel my heart racing, and tears were in my eyes.  I reached for my husband, like I’d done so many times through the years after one of my vivid bad dreams, but he wasn’t in bed with me.  Where was he?  He must be with our middle son who didn’t sleep well.  I reached for my phone and messaged my husband, asking him to come to bed because I’d had another bad dream.  As I lay there waiting for him to come, I roused enough to register the current situation.  

He was leaving.  It had become apparent within a few weeks from discovery date that my husband was with me in bodily form only.  His mind seemed far away and his desire for me even farther. He had said he wanted to save our family, but that proved to be quite different from wanting me.

He planned to let the boys finish the school year before he left.  It may have been the right thing for the kids’ sake, but it was torment for me.  Every day, constantly thinking, “This may be the last time we do this,” or “What if it’s the last time he’s here for that,” and thinking how the boys would handle things once he was gone.  Sometimes I would realize how things would be different for me when he was gone.  One of those moments came with waking from that horrible dream. 

He was leaving, and I wouldn’t have him nearby to comfort me after bad dreams.  I wouldn’t have him to keep us safe if some nightmarish man tried to come into our home.  What was I going to do?  How was I going to protect my kids?  I had never had to do it.  Never even had to worry about it.  He was leaving.  How was I going to do this?!

By the time he got to the bed, I was near hysterics.  I wouldn’t allow myself his comfort.  I told him about the dream and my realization, then I told him I had to learn to handle these dreams on my own.  I had to figure out how to keep us safe when he was no longer there to do it.  I was scared out of my mind. I lay there on the edge of the king sized bed scared out of my mind. 

That dream was so haunting that it was many months after he left before I could go into the kitchen at night.  After I had the baby, I would get everything I needed for nursing or bottle-making from the kitchen before I went to bed and put it in my bathroom so that I would not have to go near the kitchen sink in the dark.  

Fear is irrational.  It mocks you.  Like the scary man from my dream, it lurks in darkness. It hides from the light to avoid exposure.  Maybe that dream meant I was terrified of Satan lurking right outside my house, trying to get a hold of my family.  Maybe it meant I was afraid of whether I could do this on my own.  Regardless, the root issue was fear.  Fear so big that it altered my behavior and had me believing I wasn’t adequate to take care of my kids, I was going to fail them, I couldn’t be a single mom.  

But I had to.  I had to be their remaining stability.  I had to be their protector.  They were just kids.  I wanted life for them to be as normal as possible.  I had to get them through this.  I had to face my fears — all of them, and there were many.  

“Be strong and courageous,
do not be afraid or tremble at them,
for the LORD your God
is the one who goes with you.
He will not fail you or forsake you.”
Deuteronomy 31:6