Jan. 26th, 2013

snakypoet: (with Chamuel)
A man had died, and he was haunting me. I was scared but trying to ignore it. One night as I walked through the living-room, I felt him touch my back, and then I couldn't move and I couldn't speak. I was terrified. I was exerting enormous effort to no avail. Finally I managed to make my legs move to take me into the bedroom. My husband was asleep in bed. I tried to say his name to wake him — I'd been trying to call it all along — but I couldn't make a sound. I was desperate. I started shaking him to wake him, but had no strength to shake him hard. He didn't wake. Finally I managed to croak out his name in a whisper. He stirred and opened his eyes, and looked at me, bewildered. I started telling him what had happened, wanting the comfort I knew he would give me any minute. Then, as my will became stronger, I managed to get out a few syllables aloud. The sound of my voice woke me right up and I found myself in bed alone, with the sheet pressing against my back as the ghost had been.
 
My husband in the dream was clearly Andrew, yet when I was trying to wake him, the name I kept calling was 'Bill' (my previous husband).

When I woke up, I cried because I was alone, no Andrew to comfort me.

Andrew and Bill are both dead. Either one of them would have hugged and comforted me in those circumstances, while alive.

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snakypoet

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