BESIDE MYSELF--Starting Over

I jerk awake at 2 am.  He is in the middle of a dream, lying on his back, shouting, punching the bed. Calling his name, I reach out to grasp his forearm, sliding my hand down to his in a firm handshake. He freezes, pats my arm with his other hand as if making sure I'm really there, then goes back to sleep. I can feel his heart pounding through his hand. There is no time to drift off myself, as he slips almost immediately into another nightmare. Again, I wake him.This time, he grabs my hand with both of his as a drowning man clings to a rope. Between the remnants of the dreams--this time of physical combat and searching for explosives, he twitches as a painful muscle spasm racks his body punctuating the aching in his back where shrapnel remains. He's so tired of pain, so tired of dreams. So tired. It's 3:50 am. Words, phrases, sentences have been wrestling about in my head. Perhaps putting them here will bring sleep back.

Lying in bed with napping hubby. Suddenly he jerks awake and looks at me. "Are you okay?" I ask. He nods. "I just threw a grenade." At a loss, I inquire: "Did you wake up before it went off?" He nods. Still at a loss.... I comment--" Good. If I dreamed that I threw a grenade, I'd want to wake up before it went off." He grunts and goes back to sleep. Some husbands dream of other things--fishing, girls, games. Mine dreams of grenades, torture, explosions--dreams filled with smoke, screaming, and gunfire, punctuated by the physical pain of old injury earned in service to his country. I love him and pray for him. ♥