During the week I had the most vivid dream about Liane I have ever had.
As with many dreams the exact details are blurry but it took place in a car with foggy windows and rivulets of rain running down the panes. I was in the front seat on the right hand side and she was behind me. We were talking over the seat, face-to-face. She understood that she was dead and that the conversation we were having was a rare chance to communicate. We got lost in each other's eyes, neither of us able to get words out to express what we were feeling. It was so very REAL. As in, she looked exactly as I remember, she felt the same as I reached out and took her hand but perhaps most difficult, she knew she was gone. She knew I was alone. She understood.
"Tá mo chroí bhriste" I said. Those were the only words I said. I've no idea why - I'm not an Irish-speaker. I mean, I studied it, I love it as a language and have often wanted to re-learn it but why those words? Do they even make sense? I've never used them in my life. Her eyes welled up. Mine too. And then I woke up, in floods of tears. My brain realised it was a dream and I broke down, huddled into my pillow with my phone telling me the time was a quarter to six in the morning.
30mins until my swim.
30mins of broken sleep and heartache until another day starts, pushing me further from her.
I wanted so desperately to remember each part of the dream but it was so upsetting. It's taken me four days to be able to process it. Think it through. Write down my thoughts. Share it. It seems like an intimate share, like something other people might hold on to but more and more when I wonder what to write here I really think that if even just one person reads this and it helps them then the share was worth it.
What I'd do to speak to her once more...