Nightmares and Dreamscapes

In the Stygian darkness of last night, incongruously coupled with a full moon, I had a horrible dream that B had died. The particulars of this nightmare were indistinct. Tenuous, like the edges of the flame from a candle. I was rocked from my sleep, tears streaming down my face, the breath ripped from my lungs. An extremely rare circumstance for me, I was incapable of making any type of sound. In the wake of this horrendous dream, I began to come to my senses, and realize my surroundings. B was safe beside me, snoring quite contently. I put my arm around him, waiting for the tears to subside and my breathing to return to normal as if I were afraid that Charon himself would rip B from my grasp. We all have nightmares in this vein: something incomprehensible that we know would have a detrimental effect on our lives. Plain old nightmare? No. It highlighted something in my life that I already knew to be true, and that is I cannot live the same life without B in it. I was well aware of that fact before I drifted off into a nefarious dreamland last night, but perhaps dreams of this ilk serve a different purpose. Not to remind us of what we already know, but to enlighten us to never take for granted those blessings in our lives that have been granted us.