What happens to us when we dream? Do our spirits leave our bodies behind to explore another plane, other worlds? Or… Do we seek out those we miss? Loved ones who've passed on or perhaps… We search for loved ones we've lost. For those we can no longer find. Are our dreams really memories of where the spirit journeys to when we sleep? Of those we've met along the way? Are the manifestations of hopes? Of wishes? Of "What if" possibilities? Is there any way to tell if a dream is perhaps… Another reality?

Because I dream. I dodream. I dream every night.

I dream that for the first time, I am waking up…

Waking up in our bed. I dream of the Egyptian cotton sheets that entangle themselves about my body as I stretch in the morning light that spills in through our window. I dream of sitting on the edge of our bed, as my feet slowly touch the hardwood floor. The cool grain making my toes curl. I dream of standing up, and wrapping a bed robe about my frame as I step towards the door, and out into the hall. I dream of quietly walking to the end of the hall, where there is a staircase. My hand, gently grazing the wooden railing as I begin to step down, remembering somehow, that the third step from the bottom is the one that squeaks.

I dream of standing at the bottom of the stairs while my hand lingers on the railing, using it as a turning point as I walk around the stairs, and down the hall that will lead me into the kitchen…

I dream of minding my step, as children's toys liter the floor.

And I dream of entering into the kitchen to see… Ourlife. One that we fought for, made, and built together.

Because in that kitchen, I can see yougetting breakfast ready, wearing my silly apron that you brought for me. A smile that crinkles your eyes, sending those baby blues alight with happiness and joy as you flip a pancake onto the plate…

Of our little girl.

Her laughter chimes in the morning air while the sweet scent of pancakes and maple syrup hit my nose. My eyes settled upon the high chair, where our son claps his hands, and squeals in delight at the noise the morning brings him, surrounded by his family. Our son, whose dark chocolate eyes look so much like my own, and contrast beautifully under his light blonde hair.

I dream, of standing in the entrance of the kitchen… and feeling my heart swell at the sight of my beloved life. Our life. Our children, and as I go to fold my arms beneath my chest, my hands trace over the baby bump of our third child. I hear the voice of our daughter cry out "Mummy!" before she dances over, her rich auburn curls, highlighting red-copper notes, and bounds into my arms. She nuzzles my nose while her bright blue eyes sparkle. Your eyes…

I hear your voice apologize for the mess of the kitchen while you walk over, flower on your face, to press a quick good morning kiss to my cheek, while our daughter wrinkles her nose.

I dream of our family, in the morning light that fills our kitchen…

I dream… Of what could have been.

Before I wake to find that I am alone in the dark. The shadow of memory and what is gone, lingering ever close, and strengthening nothing but the hole in my heart while the words I told you once, long ago, "You are not alone…" all but echo in my ears… mocking me… Mocking me because…

I am alone.

And so I dream. I dream of the future. I dream that perhaps… One day…

I will find my family.

I will find you.