Its 5am in the morning and I am fresh from a dream. So fresh that my tears are still running, my hands are shaking and wads of tissues have come and gone.

The dream so vivid, has me in its grips and perhaps the only way to exorcise it is to write about it and then later read it in the cold clear light of day. I don't know if I will regret this later, writing about it while I am so raw but right now it feels like the right thing to do. It gives me a strange sort of solace.

I dreamed that KH died. Slumped on the ground, in my arms with the children around me, telling me he loved me. Even in my dream I kept willing him to come back and not leave but he did. The anguish. I still feel it. I dreamed of snatches of life after he passed - going to the supermarket, a child's wedding, and the terrible anguish still followed. Because I would see him everywhere but know he would not be real. I could still hear him giving me all his usual irritating sardonic asides. In my dream Gillian sat with me as I wept and asked, "He's not real and you don't see him right? Its just me." Weirdly enough the dream seemed to be narrated by someone and this line jumped out at me: KH giving tweets from the grave.

I woke, or rather the real KH woke me up because I was crying. Even Trin woke up. Perhaps I've dreamed of his passing before but it never hit me this intensely. He held me and comforted me for quite some time after but it was very hard to leave the dream and ease down on the tears. It occurs to me that he is getting a preview of my grief and comforting me for something which he would be unable to in the future.

Where do dreams like this come from? Is this what it will really be like? I don't know how or when life will pan out and if it will indeed come to this. But this dream has called forth a very deep fear in me - that of being left alone to soldier on in life without my partner, my best friend and my lover and the intense loneliness, pain and grief that accompanies this. In the throes of my pain just minutes after he woke me, I told him: "You cannot do this. You cannot leave before me. I won't allow you to. You go get it checked out. Every part of you."

I have this irrational fear of deja vu. His father passed at the age of 51, leaving a helpless wife and five kids. KH is turning out to look more and more like his dad did at that age. 47 is not far from 51. I know that it does not make sense and I worry for empty superstition but I will not be comfortable until he passes 51. We have so many things to do, so many plans. But I also know that these are empty - just plans. And rather than just plan, we should just live our lives, do the best with what we have now, because those plans might never ever happen. The reality is we never know when we're going to go and perhaps it is this lack of control that I fear. As a Catholic, I should have more faith in God, trusting His will and whatever He gives. But yet. I feel very small, scared and vulnerable as a human today.

We can only do the things we can and not worry about what has not come or the inevitable when it does. The day is starting now and the kids have to wake up for school. But before the busy-ness of everyday life seeps in and the dream is totally gone, I will try to remember just this one thing - to love as much while I can, not be afraid to put myself out there and while its hard to be in the moment every single moment, I can at least try.

While the pain of the dream is still fresh, I must also remember to appreciate everything about him - even the things I dislike. I never know when all these will really be taken from me. He may drive me nuts sometimes but even those, after he's gone, will look like lovely idiosyncrasies later and I know I will miss even these annoying habits.

I am taking a good deep whiff of fresh cool morning air. The dream is over. I am back in real life. I am letting go of the terrible pain and fear of the dream. Good morning life.