I lost my son 2 years ago by a hit and run driver who was never caught. He was only 15 at the time, I raised him alone, he was my best friend and reason for living. I’m still absolutely devastated by his loss and haven’t been doing well at all since.
last night I finally dreamt of him.
we didn’t speak and only made eye contact for a minute.
In the dream....
it started out with me in the hallway of my old house that I grew up in before he was alive. I peeked in my old room and there he was sitting on my old bed. But it was clear that it was his room now, there were 2 girls sitting with him, one was his girlfriend I THINK from when he was alive. They all looked happy and he only looked at me for a second, but he was smiling and I was just in awe.
I had this feeling of pure happiness and I instantly felt like he’s gonna be here awhile and I didn’t want to embarrass him infront of the girls so I stepped out and let him have his visit. (I don’t know why I did that because now that I’m awake I know I would of completely lost is in real life and ran to him and hugged him and never let go) but I walked out. When I walked out I was suddenly in Egypt. There was all these festivities going on and for the rest of the dream I was kinda just running around climbing on things and at one point I was backstage somewhere at work, seen a couple from work too. ( I was in the trade show and events business before COVID came so being backstage and stuff is normal for me)
eventually I was over running around and I think I was on my way back to him but I woke before that happened.
The end.
I miss my son terribly. My life will never ever be the same. I’m having trouble even caring about my own life. I don’t even want to work anymore. I just want to wither away. I didn’t realize I worked all my life for him, to keep a roof over his head. Now that he’s gone I just don’t care.
min hoping this dream is telling me something. With that being said I hope I get the honest truth about the meaning regardless of it’s good or bad.
thanks for reading.
