The sound of Gulls

I pulled weeds out of my West Oxfordshire windswept garden yesterday, idly letting my mind wander where it wanted, I thought about the sound of Sea-gulls or rather, the lack of! Having spent a great deal of my life living near the sea, I now find that in my land-locked area the sound of Gulls is something I miss; that and the light in the sky, which is always brighter due to the reflection off the expanse of sea. I also miss the beach walks and beach-combing, along with the salty air. I suppose it's the time of year when others around me are preparing to go on holiday and I am unable to afford a holiday this year. And, when we can't have something we crave it more.

Perhaps I could drive down to the south coast sometime soon; it's only two hours; spend the day on the beach with a picnic, paddle in the cold water and breathe in the salty air. That's the thing with being single and out of a job... if I can afford the petrol, I have the freedom to do whatever I want.

A Pigeon sat on the overhead wire above my car, so I clapped my hands loudly to scare it away. I prefer Gulls any day, although come to think of it; excrement from either can really mess up my car.

Summer Song

Summer Song is the name of the rose that sits on his ashes. The scent is delicious and heady, just like the last summer we had together.

I thought all the peculiar, grief induced, mind-disturbing dreams had ended. But no. In my pre-waking moments this morning, he was in the room looking tanned healthy and strong. He was smiling at me and scooped me up in his long arms and twirled me around. He asked me how I was and that he'd missed me. I told him how wonderful he looked. There was no sign of the debilitating effects of the stroke and he talked about helping me sort out the finances and that everything would be okay. I said that we must be careful what we spent our money on and that we must ensure that we ate healthily and stayed fit. I suppose that in my confused sleepy state I was trying to prevent the stroke I knew in my subconscious was going to happen. It was as if the truth was trying to seep through my dream. But he was so real and I actually felt myself being scooped up in the air and I felt his arms around me tightly.

This is the third vivid and so real dream I've had since he died where I've felt him and touched him and have even smelt his scent. I've had other dreams of him, but these three dreams have been different; he has been real and alive and we talked and smiled together... so different and so disturbing.

I can only assume it is a cruel trick of the mind, but for a few moments in time it felt as though he was really with me again. I awoke feeling lighter, happier and loved. If only he could visit...