I have had only one nightmare about Owen, ever. It creeps into my waking mind occasionally and really freaks me out.
It’s a winter night – dark, cold and snowy. Owen is missing. I don’t know where he is. But I see in my dreaming mind’s eye that he is shivering and wet. And naked. Lost in a snow bank – covered by snow but contained in a small pocket of air. His eyes are bugging out, like when he used to have these strange ‘spells’ – seizure-like breath-holding episodes that would end in a deep gasp and exhaustion and would leave his skin a pale blue colour. In the dream, he’s scared and lonely and confused. I feel despair creeping in but am determined to keep looking anyway, through the dark night and blowing snow.
Hang on Owen. I’m coming.