Dreams -- no, not aspirations. Dreams in the literal sense.

I hate dreaming. I hate it.  Almost every nightly prayer of mine includes a petition to the Lord for no dreams. My dreams are always horrible and terrifying. I even cut CSI and Law & Order out of my life thinking they were the culprits of my horrible, nightly subconscious.  Nope.

In the last two weeks I have have five separate dreams that Makay has died. I awake in the middle of the night in a panic; full of the emotions I endured in the dream. I then lay awake pondering scenarios and making my fears worse. How would I provide for my kids? How would I pay off our loans? Would my current degree be enough to provide? Would I need more schooling?  Who would wrestle with, play with and nurture my children while I was slaving away making minimum wage to put food in their tummies? Would I even have enough money to get to family?

My first dream in the sequence of horribleness was about the knowledge I had of the time I had left with him which, ironically, was two weeks. I dreamt I only had two weeks left with him.  My best friend. My husband. The daddy of my munchkins. I woke up in a panic, glad to see him sleeping next to me.  I inched my way over to him and under his arm. I placed my head on his chest and found comfort in the rhythmic beating I could hear.

As much as I truly despise these wicked dreams, they have humbled me. I found my greatest source of pain didn't come from missing what Makay does {ie providing for our family, being the best daddy ever, etc}, though those things weighed heavily on me. What pained me the most was the fact that my heart died in these dreams; my heart died with him. I have realized how much he is a part of me. I have a connection with him that I share with no one else and it's not just because we have things in common and laugh at the same jokes. It's like our souls have gradually been fused together over the past 6.5 years. {{I can't believe he's only been apart of my life for that short period of time}}. I didn't even realize it was happening. I have a new understanding of what it means to 'cleave unto' one another and to become one.

I love him. We argue and bicker. We get on each other's nerves. We walk into separate rooms at times. On a few occasions one of us has left the house and gone on a drive just to be away from the other person. Despite all of this -- or because of it -- we grow closer together. In another 6.5 years I hope to have an even great understanding of the words cleave and one.

I love my Makay, and I love that he is truly a part of me.

Six years as Mrs. Oakey

** Just realizing I never published this post. It's been a draft for three months!

Six years, two kids and four cities later, I still love this man -- more than I thought possible. August 24, 2012 marked our sixth year of marriage.  Six years! We went to P.F. Changs to celebrate and that was almost as incredible as the last six years have been.  

I have decided as each year passes, we will each write down something we have learned about our marriage. I will compile our experiences and tid-bits and give them to our children when they get married. 

My two cents:
As I look at the past year [in combination with the previous years], I have come to really appreciate the companionship marriage offers. It's amazing to have someone who hurts when you hurt, smiles when you smile, and laughs when you laugh. As I have experienced the emotional tosses and turns that accompany my dad's health, I know Makay is going through them with me. It is amazing to have someone who will bear my burdens with me ... in all things. 

It's odd how it all works, and I'm not sure how it happens. When my heart aches and Makay puts his arms around me, I feel as if I'm sharing that pain with him.  He can feel it. By knowing and understanding what I'm experiencing helps me to overcome anything I'm going through. It's an incredible blessing. 

I've also learned to see my own faults instead of his.  I've learned this the hard way.  The Lord had to soccer punch me in the face. Sometimes I can be a little prideful and I didn't even realize it ... which, I guess, is being prideful in and of itself. My Makay is patient with me.  He loves me.  He allows me to find my own faults without telling me what they are.  I know he loves and appreciates me because he shows me.  I'm one lucky girl. 

Happy six years, Love.  Here's to infinity and beyond [or as Maddux says, "to the city, and beyond!"]