What Dreams May Come – Life After Newtown

January 10, 2013 10 Comments

Image via Kawaii Princess

I awoke suddenly again. Trembling, crying, covered in sweat I stared into the a.m. darkness. Nightmares. Nightmares of a loss so close and real that I couldn’t shake the feelings for days.

I hugged my children tighter than my usual grip when the sun came up. And one girl, the one from my dream, wiggled free, giggling when I wouldn’t let go.

Last night around 3 am, the Butterfly (9) stood by the side of my bed with tears in her eyes. “Nightmares,” she whispered. We went downstairs and I snuggled her on the couch as she struggled to tell me details. “There was a lot of dying. You were dying. The cats were dying.”

Eventually, I calmed her down. I assured her we were all fine. It was just a dream. Finally, she drifted off to sleep again.

She hasn’t spoken much about the shooting in Newtown. She knows about her teacher’s child. All she said was “Can I see her?” And later “I’m sorry for her. She must be so sad.”

Weeks have gone by since the tragedy. It’s fading from the news. It’s fading from conversations I overhear around town. It’s fading to the shadows, but the pain remains. And fear lingers.

The way through…

I try to look ahead to the newness of the year. And most days I have hope.

I try to find a way to not jump out of my skin when I hear a loud noise in a crowd, but I do anyway.

I try not to calculate the safest place to sit in a movie theater, but I find a spot close to the wall, blocked in by people bigger than me. Can I get under the seat if I have to? Where are the exits?

I try not to think about how “easy it would be for someone to walk into this place with a gun” every where I go.

Yet I do.

I long for a different world for my children. And for yours.

That too may be only a dream.

http://jdeneen.com/ Julie DeNeen

On the one hand, it’s so good that the media has finally left newtown alone. On the other hand, when all the funerals are over and the people have left, there is still that terrible grief and fear. Hang in there. xo
Melanie Chisnall

I can’t help but think of the same things everywhere I go as well, Amy. I pat down the cinema chair every time we go incase there’s a needle sticking out of it with some poison. It’s not nice to live that way, but we don’t really have much choice. Thoughts with you today…seems like a tougher one than usual.
Stephanie Sprenger

Beautifully written. I don’t know if there is any comfort in remembering you are not alone in your feelings or your awareness that the world is forever changed. I am glad you wrote about this today.
http://sweet-heart.net/ Michele

I hate that I enjoyed reading this. Does that make sense? It’s so devastating, yet you put such beautiful words around the grief. You’ll get through this, I promise.
http://amylandisman.com/ Amy

Thank you. There is definitely comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my feelings.
http://amylandisman.com/ Amy

Thank you, Michele.
http://amylandisman.com/ Amy

Thanks.:) It is good that the media has left – yet it is all still just beneath the surface…
http://amylandisman.com/ Amy

Sometimes I am totally fine and some days itall comes back. You’re right though – it isn’t nice to live this way! That part really bothers me. I don’t want to live in a society that is this dysfunctional that we have to worry about our safety everywhere. But what choice do we have? I guess all we can do it work at maintaining our own peace and focus on doing some good for the people around us. I’m not quite there yet.
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http://www.bigaandlittlea.com/ Roshni Aamom

Very powerful, Amy. I too keep wondering how such a tragedy happened, and continues to happen all over the world. Just voted for you.