The hardest time is getting up in the morning and going to bed at night.  It brings to reality that there is someone missing. There’s no good-morning I love you or a good-night kiss. It’s like swimming in a sea full of nails that are supposed to hurt. They are touching me, but they aren’t. Nails can’t float?  But mine do. I’m waiting for a sound.  A car door. A laugh or even a snore. He should be here.

Last night I dreamed that a woman was chasing me with a kitchen knife. I was running and screaming about the house. You could not help me, because you were caring for your mother. Somehow, you got the knife away from the woman and threw it toward me.  It landed on my shoulder, nearly slicing my neck. I frantically hid the knife in my mother’s closet. The woman could no longer hurt me.

When I went to bed, the woman came back.  But this time she was a large angry dog. She began to bite my arm.  The same arm you hurt in a dream 2 weeks ago. She was biting me.  I was afraid.  She was biting me, but I could not feel the pain. I tried to scream, but the sound would not come out.

The woman was me.

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