Bittersweet Dreams Are Made of These

New dream:
 Cory came bouncing in and sat at the end of my bed.  I sat up in bed, unable to believe my eyes, and afraid to speak, lest she disappear.  I looked her over, my eyes loving her every feature... her bright, gorgeous green eyes, her hair in those adorable pigtails, her smile lighting up her face, and the entire room.  Yes, it was her!  She spoke first, smiling and happy to catch up on everything she'd missed.  I stared at her; she was so alive, so healthy, so vibrant. 

I told her she looked and sounded so happy.  She was doing so much better...would she be ready to go back to school, maybe just a half day to start?  She smiled gently, not wanting to disappoint me, and laid out her concerns.

  First, she was worried about who would get Jacob after school.  "He counts on me, Mom."  Then, she said she was worried she wouldn't be able to see Mrs. Coats.  "She  needs me."  Finally, she said, "I'm afraid going back might be too much for me, Mom.  I think I'm doing well right where I am." 
I nodded, in agreement.

When I moved the topic to how she was really ok, and that the accident had been a horrible series of recurrent nightmares I'd been having, she shook her head no.  "No, Mom, that's not right."

My heart felt such a chill, like someone had just thrown a bucket of ice cold water over my head from behind.  Hurriedly, I asked her to come, climb right into my arms, which she did without hesitation.
As I held her, full of mind-numbing joy to have her in my arms once again, I began to realize her body, soft and warm, was growing hard and cold, like a statue.  When I looked at her face, her features had become painted on, unmoving, a perfect, but lifeless porcelain doll.

I woke to her stuffed animal clutched in my grip, and an empty bedroom.  It had seemed so real, every detail from the way she looked to her concern for her brother, and her teacher, before herself.  It had been the very definition of bittersweet to spend those moments with her. 

The one thing I would take from the dream was this:  as long as I lived, Cory's voice would not be trapped behind a painted on smile that made other people feel better; I would be her voice, always.