When the dream feels real: grief, memory, and the life you choose next

Busy street scene in Lahore, Pakistan with vendors, traffic, and vibrant colors – representing the vivid chaos described in a grief dream.

Last night, I was in Pakistan.

It was hot. The air was heavy, dusty, sticky. Chaos everywhere. Car horns blaring, motorbikes weaving dangerously close. Street vendors shouting in a language I didn’t understand, written in letters I couldn’t read.

Everything was alive. Loud and vibrant. Overwhelming.

I wandered through a narrow street looking for somewhere quiet to sit. Forget it. I ended up on a plastic chair in a loud open-air café, music pounding through the speakers. People queued tightly together for the city’s best ice cream - shuffling, shouting, with no sense of personal space.

I wasn’t the only foreigner. Humanitarian workers from around the world stood beside me. I struck up conversations, recognized faces from my past life. We swapped stories and laughed. It felt like I’d never left.

Finally, I ordered my ice cream - something between a jelly and a sorbet. Far too sweet but delicious.

And then I woke up. 

In my bed. In the Netherlands.

I was alone. But it didn’t feel that way. I didn’t want to open my eyes. Because last night, we were on the road together again - me and my husband. In the heat, the noise, the life. Just like it used to be.

Grief dreams: when the past feels present

This wasn’t just any dream. It was what experts call a grief dream - a vivid, emotional dream that often follows the loss of a loved one. Psychologist Dr. Joshua Black, a leading researcher in this field, describes these dreams as profoundly meaningful and often healing. According to Dr. Black, grief dreams are not random. They offer connection, clarity, and emotional resolution. And yes, they can feel very real.

In fact, neuroscience backs this up. During REM sleep, the brain doesn’t differentiate much between dream and reality. The emotional and sensory regions are fully activated. That’s why, when I woke up, it felt like he was right there next to me. 

From painful wake-ups to purposeful mornings

In the early years after my husband’s death, waking up from dreams like this felt cruel. It was a brutal reminder of what I’d lost. The kind of morning that makes you want to stay under the covers and live in the past.

But not today.

 Today, this dream felt like a gift. A brief return, a visit of my former life. One I could carry with me, not as a weight, but as a wave of gratitude.

Because today, I wake up in a life I have consciously built. Not the one I lost, but the one I chose.

 A new dream. One that pulls me forward.

Choosing life again

My life today looks nothing like it did. I’m preparing to move to South Africa. Not to escape, but because this is where my new dream takes me. It’s a life that energizes me, that pulls me out of bed each morning, not so much with urgency, but with clarity. Because I know I still have something to do here.

Yes, there is a gentle ache that remains. A soft, permanent weeping inside the body. But it’s no longer about going back. There’s no longing to return. 

What was, moves with me.
What is, keeps growing.

The lemniscate that moves forward

I see my life now as a lemniscate - an infinity loop. What came before still flows through me. But the movement is forward. Not in circles, not in spirals, but in expansion.

And that’s exactly what I help others do. Not just go on, but consciously choose again. To turn pain into presence. To take everything you carry and build something bigger you can truly live in. A place full of light and love.

Do you recognize this?
A dream so real you don’t want to wake up?
And yet - you rise. Because what you’re building now is just as meaningful as what you had.

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