My grief journey seemed to be stabilizing…I literally went through all the ‘normal’ steps, processes, and feelings again, 30 years after the event, as though I was going through it the first time.  I have mentioned how I stuffed it down, was not able (or willing) to process or adequately deal with it in real time.  Then 30 years go by, a couple of dreams bring the wound to the forefront, and BAM! I am in the thick of it.  In addition to ‘normal’ grieving moments, I also engaged two counselors to help get me through the pain.  One was a more traditional talk-therapy style and the other utilized a more deliberate methodology of EMDR (which is firmly rooted in the PTSD recovery space).  The EMDR seemed better of the two.  As I said, I went through steps and stages.  Things settled down.  Time elapsed between thoughts of Jen, increasing from minutes to hours to days.  I felt that I was recovering.  Not so much a problem solved, but was accepting that the world was different now and that was the world that I live in.  A little over a year has transpired.

Then the dreams began anew…A couple weeks ago, I am dreaming that Tom (one of my best friends), my Dad, and I, are at a Kansas City Royals game.  It is a very different stadium layout than the actual Kaufmann stadium, and very cool.  We have access to some ‘VIP’ areas for some reason and are popping all around the ball park during the game.  Interestingly, the Royals were losing to the Mets 15-8 at the middle of the ninth inning, but, for some reason, elected not to play the last half inning.  It was a back and forth affair in the early innings, but it just ended.  Somewhat stunned, we left the ball park and were heading into the parking garage, which was a deep cylindrical shaped parking structure that was not well laid out for a mass of people leaving at once (are they ever?).  As we head into the garage to get to our car, I hear a gal bitching in the passenger seat of a car that we are walking by, “Christ, it takes three hours to get out of a parking lot from a game that only lasts two and a half hours.”  I said something snarky out loud, not to her necessarily, but just out loud.  The girl addresses me by name and says, “Just you wait until you have to go through this mess!”  I look over at the car these girls were in and, while not necessarily remembering it, it was familiar.  I looked at the license plate and it too was familiar.  The traffic eases and the car starts to drive off and I recognize the back of Jen’s head, her hair, she’s driving!  I start running after the car and actually catch up to it about half a block down the road.  They invite me to get in for a ride home, which I was in the process of accepting when I woke up.

Some interesting takeaways from the dream were that I never actually saw Jen’s face, but knew it was her.  The car and license plate were recognized as hers, but were not like her real life versions.  I have no idea who was actually in the passenger seat.  And most surprising for me, there was not this overpowering sense of sadness, loss.  I can remember puzzlement, and some desperation in catching up to her, wanting to tell her something so badly.  But not grief, as it were.

So, I let it simmer a while.  Not sure what to do with it.  It has been a little while since I had thought of her consciously, a few days at least.  No more frequently than the couple months proceeding the dream.  So why (or how) does she appear, and in a cameo role?  Like I said, it was more puzzling than anything.  Talking through it with a friend, the possibility was offered that my mind was starting to set her free.  That I was okay with (or least accepting of) reality.  My first thought was maybe true.  However, something with that explanation didn’t seem to explain my feelings either.  I was very determined to catch up to the car.  Something not complete…

A few days after this, another dream occurs.  This time Jen is not in it, but is still a central character.  A father figure of Jen’s comes over to my house.  For some reason, I know it is not her father, but filling the role of a father nonetheless (later noodling in my head produces the possibility of it being God).  He is talking about how good Jen is, how it is going to take a person of significant moral character and purity to interact with her, in any way.  I find myself trying to give examples of how I am a quality person, composed of goodness (or at least good actions and motives).  It is a very bizarre verbal dance where neither of us are saying exactly what we are explicitly talking about, just dancing around each others’ labyrinth of language.  Later there is a large group of us going out to an amusement park.  There are many of my own friends and family as well as Jennifer’s friends and family.  I locate a (somewhat) distant cousin of hers.  Not sure how I know this information, but I stop him as we are entering the entrance gates.  I ask him to relay a message to Jen for me.  He declines.  I beg!  Please, I need to speak to her!  He is waffling.  He is not sure if this is something that he should be involved with.  I get the sense that he believes that the Father-Figure would not be pleased.  At least ask her to call me!  Please?!  I get a begrudging okay, the kind that you agree to when you just want someone to leave you alone, but may not be all that willing to follow through with.  I wake up.

What the hell?!?!  What am I so convinced that I need to talk to her about?  It is not a consciously known question or conversation.  I was supposed to be on the healing side of this event.

I start to look up some webpages on contacting deceased people, through dreams, through spirit guides, through any means.  I know that I want to talk to her…Why is a bit more nebulous.  I read through many webpages on how to connect, cross-over, invoke the spirits of loved ones.  I figure I will give it a try.  One of the recurring themes seems similar to meditation, right before going to sleep.  Get comfortable and relaxed.  Visualize the person that you want to contact.  Invite them to come to you in the dream.  Not a summoning, by any means, but a call out to them saying that you wish to talk, to see them, that it will be welcomed and wanted.  So, I start this process…Jen, please come into my dreams tonight.  I really want to talk to you.

AARGHHH!  I awake the next morning, frustrated!  I spent what felt like two to three hours on a park bench, talking to Jennifer Aniston.  While normally this might not be an unwelcomed task, it missed the mark this go around.  It felt like Jen was giggling in the background too.  (Jennifer Aniston is quite chatty if you ever run into her in your dreams.)  Very funny, Ha Ha Ha.

The next day, I spend more time reading pages on how to connect with the spirit world.  More of the same directions, very mediation-like.  Run across one medium that suggested a “Fake-It-Til-You-Make-It” approach is a viable option too.  Great.  So not only am I going batshit crazy, I plan on faking batshit crazy until I can achieve batshit crazy.  Wonderful.  But I still try.

The next night arrives.  I get comfortable in bed.  Try to slow my body processes down.  Ask Jen (my Jen specifically) to join me.  I want to talk to her.  I lay there, still, eyes closed.  I visualize myself leaving my body, floating near the ceiling looking down at myself.  I takes a while to pull off, but I get there.  This is all quite bizarre for me, as I have mentioned in the past I am mostly aphantasic, and while we can dream with visuals, we cannot see visuals in the mind well, if at all.  But somehow, maybe sheer determination, I am able to mostly see.  Then slowly, rising through the roof, outside the house, floating upwards while watching downward, concentrating on the home below getting smaller and smaller.  I reach a point that I would describe as low-Earth orbit.  I see the land below, I am just floating there.  I have expended considerable energy getting here.  Is it just wishful thinking?  Am I just imagining?  Then slowly, I turn.  Not upwards, and in no direction that I can explain.  I am no longer in control, just a passenger.  The change of direction feels like a Rubix cube being turned to solve.  The Earth is not ‘below’ me any longer, but I sense that I am further away from it in some regard.  I get the sense that I am speeding up, but have no concept of where I am, or where I am going.  The next thing that I notice is that I am at a building site, not of a building, per se, but more like the edge of a city that is completely under construction.  Not sure how I transitioned from floating in ‘space’ to this place, with a light brown dirt ground.  I see construction activities all around, in various phases of completeness.  Most noticeable, as I am on the outskirts of this ‘city’, is the concrete footers that have been poured, for what I assume to be meant to be a city wall. There are lots of people buzzing about, doing their work.  I ask, where am I.  The question is met with smiles, sincere, but not exactly an answer.  Like I should know, bless my heart.  While entry into the ‘city’ is not specifically prevented by the construction, the footer tops are barely above ground, I look for a more defined entrance.  As I walk through the gates I ask again, what is going on?  Someone answers that this is heaven.  That it is being built.  As souls arrive, they represent another stone towards the completion of the majestic city.  (As a side note, considering the number of people that have passed in human history and the completion level of the city’s construction, it will be quite a while before Armageddon arrives…assuming the city needs to be complete as the kick off point for the End of Days.)  I continue to walk through the low, partially formed gates, down this entrance avenue.  More people buzzing about, tending to their tasks.  I look forward down the road, and there is Jen standing there with a startled look on her face.  She smiles and starts towards me, calling my name.  The tone sounds a little surprised, but more so excited and glad to see me.  She reaches out and grabs my hand, as if to drag me around and show me the sites.  As her hand grasps mine, I feel an immense, incredible energy.  Not like lightning or electricity, not sharp or buzzing, but warm, inviting, enveloping…pure.  It looked like a small, slow-motion explosion where she grabbed my hand, but with no harmful explosion-like effects.  It startles me!  I was not expecting this feeling, and I draw back, unsure if this energy will harm or consume me.  Very surprised.  The surprised feeling is so great that it shocks me back to being awake.  SHIT!  Gone…

So, I lie here with so many more questions.  Did I make all of this up?  Was my mind just exploring a fantasy, vividly?  Did I want this so much that I made it occur?  Supplemented with too many accounts from others that I have read about.  Did these stories blend together to create the vision that I just witnessed/conjured?  I am not aware of, and do not think that, I was exposed to any notions of heaven being under construction prior to this.  No specific recollection of explosions when you touch a spirit.  And the transition from floating in near-space to what followed was like nothing that I can remember in stories of heavenly journeys.  (It was super cool nonetheless.  The only thing that I can guess towards would be the visualization of interacting with a fourth-dimension.  How my mind could not process the experience in a way that made sense, but the extra-dimensional movement was still occurring.)

On the flip side of the coin, while suspending all that I know to be real and true…What if the experience was real?  What if the ability to separate the conscious from the physical body could (did) occur?  Did I really get to travel via an additional dimension to Heaven?  Did I really encounter Jen?  Did I freak her out, or disappoint her, by exiting so abruptly?  Does she think that I fear her, or heaven, or the journey?  Was I even ‘allowed’ to make this type of journey?  Am I in trouble for it?  Is she?  Will this make further contact harder?

And stepping back, looking at the grander scheme of things, what does this do for my mental health or grief journey?  I find myself writing this down, in hopes of getting it out off my head for one, but more so because I don’t feel that I can discuss it with anyone.  Friends that know what I have been going through in the past year are wonderfully accepting, but the experience has been progressive towards healing and acceptance.  Does their patience have a limit, and have I officially crossed it by regressing into the grief cycle again?  Bringing in new folks to hear of the story feels laborious, plus all the standard hurdles of this happened 30+ years ago.  Sheesh, Get over it!  At what point does everyone say enough is enough?  When does my wife’s tolerance cease???  It feels very isolating.  I want to tell the story!  (Or is it more correct to say that I want a story that can be told?)  There are some very cool experiences within.  But is it all just fiction…with a plotline of grief and not being able to overcome it?  Why am I so axle-wrapped on this???  I know that the accident happened.  I know that cannot change.  I have a good life, why do I want to fuck it up with this frivolous fantasy?  Why can’t I let it go?  Hell, I don’t even know what it is that I want to talk to Jen about.  And would it even change anything?  Why does she keep reappearing in my dreams?  Why will my mind not just put it to rest and get on with existing???  I feel stuck…stupid…crazy…and in limbo.  If I am going to go insane, then let’s just do it!  Why the constant picking at the scab?  Just go batty and enjoy craziness!  Or just heal and get on with it…Enjoy the wonderful life that I find myself blessed with!  Why must I subject myself to torture…repeatedly…willingly?