inspiration? closure?

I tend to dream a lot. Every night, sometimes multiple dreams. Always in color. I've had the same dreams for multiple years, not always a comforting thing.
Last night I had a dream so vivid that I woke up crying. And was visibly upset for hours after waking.
I dreamt that I was travelling with my sister Shannon. No husband, no baby. I knew they were in the picture; I was sure that they were safe together. Shannon and I were rushing to get somewhere. We were pushing through throngs of people in South Beach, Florida. We had to get to Miami. Everything was in the house on the beach in Miami. Shannon and I kept pushing through people, constantly being jostled and shoved backwards. 2 steps forward, 1 step back.
Finally the crowd seemed to crack open and Shannon and I rushed through. We raced across boardwalks and beaches.
Finally we came to a solitary beach. There were no tourists or bathing beauties. There wasn't a sound except for the crashing of the waves against the shore. Standing alone was a single house, more a cabin. We walked onto the boarded walk, moving to the front of the house. There were open windows from floor to ceiling in the 2 single rooms facing the ocean. We walked in the side door, immediately into a small foyer. From the doorway we could see into the far room. There were shelves on the far wall stocked with dry goods, a counter with a sink below the shelves. I could see my brother's legs hanging over the side of a chair and his cigarette dangling from his fingers, ash about to fall. I could hear the hum of the television as he sat there.
Immediately to our left the foyer ended and opened into a single bedroom. There was a large (king?) bed with dark sheets and an old quilt. Buried under the sheets was a human form. We crept up to the bed. Lying with the covers pulled up to her chin was my Grandma. My died-twenty-years-ago Grandma.
I knew that she had died. I also knew that Nathan had found her and brought her here. Shannon and I had rushed here because Nathan had called us. I crawled into bed with my Grandma. Shannon climbed in on the other side. And we held her. And we talked to her. She never talked to us. She couldn't seem to utter a word. She seemed exhausted and confused. I remember Shannon telling us that she was going to talk to Nathan and find out where Mom was. She got up and I heard the inconsistent murmuring of her and Nathan's conversation. Nathan sounded shell-shocked.
Grandma started shivering, so I pulled back the covers and prepared to climb in to warm her. What I saw was my Grandma pulled into the fetal position like a marionette wearing a belted navy colored shirt dress. She wasn't wearing any shoes or hose. I climbed in and tried to pull her close. She curved into me the way that Weston does, slowly nestling in.
My next thought:
Thank you. thank you, God for giving me back the one person we all need to make everything better.
And I woke up immediately after that. And I woke up crying. And I have been heartbroken all day. But once this overwhelming feeling of sadness gradually dissolved away, I began to feel better. I felt like I had been given a brief visit. That I got to hold her and love her once more. It still sucks, but I felt like I was given a glimpse. And that she was ok.
A reminder that she was always with us, and always would be. There's comfort in that.