Just woke up--and have a couple minutes before Owen needs fed. I dreamt about Chase last night. The first time in over two years. His birthday is in a couple weeks and I've been thinking about him and moving him and his grave and his casket and his stone...alot lately. In this dream we were moving him. And in the meanwhile, we took him out of his casket. He looked like a little baby, perfect. He looked about 4-5 months old. We were holding him and he was just smiling, moving around looking at us. We were all so happy to see him. It was precious. I was thinking how unreal this was. How he looked real. Not like what I expected him to look like. He had flesh and he was moving...so real and unharmed. How can this be. Just as I was beginning to ask if this was real and was beginning to think he had actually come back to us and we were going to get to keep him...He burped a little and a blackish goo started to come out of his mouth and I panicked. I gave him back to Patric and that's all I remember.
Cruel. But a gift nonetheless. Every time I get to see him, is a gift. I will take whatever I get. Because he's my baby boy and always will be. I love you sweet little one. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.