Dreaming

My dreams have been cruel to me since Gabriel's passing. I have nightmares most nights, vivid images of his death, of the birth, of the funeral. I have one that is cruelest of all that seems to repeat itself. When I was pregnant my husband and I, with another couple that was expecting, had decided to go to a haunted house. I was still early in my pregnancy so I figured what was the harm. Apparently I had forgotten how much I hate haunted houses. I spent most of it with my eyes closed, Gary hanging onto my hips from behind me and me holding on to my best friend Tabitha in front of me. Towards the end of the haunted house they had a coffin standing upright that you walked into. I freaked out! Death had always been terrifying to me and my husband had an aunt that passed in July. Her death had been the first funeral I had ever attended and the first experience I had with seeing the body of someone who had passed. It was a very traumatizing experience after her funeral filled with nightmares of her death and such. Well, my sons passing has turned out to be no different. In my nightmare I am back in this haunted house, this time very very pregnant. No one is around but my husband and of course myself. Right in front of the standing up casket I go into labor, immediately falling to the floor and already at the point of pushing. I start this horrible labor, I feel him getting stuck again, I'm screaming for help but there is no one around to hear it but my husband. It seems to go on forever. I feel every ounce of pain I felt when I was truly delivering him. I finally give birth to my son, hearing his beautiful cries of life for the first time, it comes as a shock and I feel fulfilled at first since I never truly got to hear him cry. Crawling out of the casket is a horrid creature, it is hooded in a black cloak, its breath is raspy. Before I have a second to respond it grabs my son, the beautiful boy I had dreamed of meeting and runs into the casket, the lid slamming shut. I am screaming, tears running down my face as my husband runs to the "doorway" and begins banging on the lid, screaming at the top of his lungs. I wake still hearing my son screaming.