miss emma.

never in my life have i had a problem with sleeping. when i was a baby, my mother had to physically wake me up to feed me. she even admits to sometimes forgetting about my existence, simply because i was always sleeping. 

throughout my life, i have found the purest form of comfort in my bed at home. my first tumultuous year at college, i remember coming home to visit and immediately falling asleep the minute i closed my eyes in my bed, just because i felt truly and completely comfortable and safe. 

the past few nights, i have not slept. and i am exhausted beyond description, tired and fatigued both physically and mentally, but i cannot sleep peacefully. it's a terrible situation and even last night, after i reluctantly took a benadryl and a melatonin (which has been known to knock me out in a matter of minutes), i still tossed and turned. i simply can't turn my mind off and my mind runs scenes from my life, an accumulation of past, present and future, over and over. 

after laying in bed for over an hour last night, i finally dozed off somehow. 

i had a dream, and i don't remember anything else about this dream, other than my dearest friend who is currently on a two year vacation in bolivia. i don't know what we were doing in this dream, or why he was home from his mission in my dream, or anything else really, but i remember feeling him there and knowing that he loves me. i remember walking into church and him meeting me in the foyer, and silently, without a word, he draped his arm around my shoulder and i put mine around his waist and he walked me into the chapel. and that's all i remember, and i think that might've been all there was to it, but i felt him there. and feeling him for just a matter of seconds is enough for me. 

i've always had a fascination with dreams, and how real they are. like how in a dream, i can be reminded of things i once forgot, like a facial expression or a feeling i had or the sound of someone's voice. 

now, call me crazy, but i sincerely believe that my bolivian friend came to me in that dream. i don't know how, but i know that we have a Heavenly Father who knows that nothing would make me feel better than a hug from that boy. and i know that if my sweet elder and i could communicate telepathically, and he knew that my heart was hurting, he would do everything in his power to transport himself from bolivia to my hotel room in palm springs, even if it was for just a matter of seconds. 

when we arrived back home today, as i walked into the kitchen, a little letter lay on the counter addressed to me. a letter from that same sweet bolivian missionary. he may be across the world in a country far far away, but he is still very much here to me. and i am so glad.