I was supposed to wake up around 2am this morning to go work overtime. I set my alarm. But it didn’t wake me up. In fact, i set it to go off Monday, not today. So I woke up way late (515am)
What woke me up instead was a true nightmare.
Have you ever had a dream that felt so real? As if it happened in real life? So real that when you woke up, you just had to take a few moments to realize it wasn’t “real”?
I had one of those last night. It’s one I will never forget unfortunately.
I could hear the organ playing softly in the distance; people quietly chattering.
I could smell fresh cut flowers; and the stench of a 100 different perfumes mixed together.
I could see the sea of black; and the rivers of tears.
I could feel my heart in my throat, and the weight of my legs moving in slow motion.
I could taste the sorrow. My sorrow.
The door opened. I overheard someone say this child was killed by an active shooter at their elementary school. My eyes refocused. For some reason, my vision was blurry. I didn’t understand.
And then my eyes landed on the little casket, with the top closed. A bouquet of rainbow flowers laid gently on top. And the giant picture of a beautiful little girl in her school picture off to the side. A beautiful girl with big Brown eyes and long Brown hair. She was smiling. Alive.
It was our daughter.
I couldn’t take another step forward.
I fell. I screamed.
And it was then that it hit me…that I would never see my daughter dancing, running, reading, again. My 2nd grader that was learning how to count money yesterday, I would never struggle with the knots in her hair again. A gun took my goofy girl away from this world, and left me with a room full of rotting flowers. In that moment, my world ended.
At least my dream world. Because I woke up. Before I died from a broken heart in my nightmare.
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