Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts

Saturday, 1 September 2012

I Dreamed A Dream

We played the song “Precious Child” by Karen Taylor Goode at Polly’s funeral:

“In my dreams, you are alive and well, precious child, precious child.
And in my mind, I see you clear as a bell, precious child, precious child.”

I had the strangest dream last night.

I dreamt I was on a car journey with my husband, our twins H&L, baby M and also our daughter Polly, and my Dad. We were travelling uphill, through some kind of forest.  As we drove over a bump, little Polly and my Dad fell out of the car.  We carried on the journey regardless.

A long while later, when we were much further down the road, we turned around and went back to see Polly and Dad.  They were, by now, in a hospital.

On arriving at the door to the hospital I informed the nurse who was holding a huge syringe and clipboard, that I was there to see my daughter.  I didn’t tell the nurse my daughter’s name, but she looked at me knowingly. Her reply was instant “Yes, they’re here.  We’ve been waiting for you”.  It was said as though the nurse had been waiting for a long, long time. Not with impatience, but with the confidence and expectation, somehow, that I was always going to arrive at the hospital, at some point.

I walked into the hospital room with my husband, the twins and baby M. The room was white, brilliant white.  My Dad was sat on a hospital bed.  He looked well, and happy.  Little Polly looked different to how I remembered her; she was probably about 2 (which she would be now, had she lived), and although she was an incredible mixture facially of the twins and baby M, she was very clearly Polly.  She too, looked well and happy.

As I watched my husband and children chatter and laugh with my Dad and Polly, I witnessed my Dad smile at Polly amidst the chaos and noise.  Polly caught his smile, and smiled back.  That look, that smile, that love and that bond between them, completely took my breath away.

And then I woke up.

My daughter Polly and my Dad were buried just 2 days apart - at the same time, in the same place, with my Mum who was already waiting for them.

In the way that a rainbow ebbs away slowly from the sky leaving the memory of it's beauty but no trace of its start or finish, my dream’s clarity has faded from my mind during the day today.  And in the same way that I would never try to chase a rainbow, I won’t be attempting to chase or return to my dream.

But it leaves, in it’s wake, an indescribable feeling of reassurance and peace.