Which Husband Died?

I have been divorced from my first husband for nearly 16 years.  

This morning, when I woke up I suddenly and I mean this sincerely, I didn't know which one of my husbands had died. 

First husband?  Did my child's dad die and that's why I'm so upset, basically on his behalf?

Or did Chad die?  

I swear to you on my husband's grave, ha ha, isn't it funny that I can actually say that now (well, he was cremated, so "on his urn"), that I DID NOT KNOW WHICH HUSBAND WAS DEAD.  It took me what seemed like forever to decide. It took me probably a good 2-3 minutes.  Now that sounds short right?  Go set your iphone timer for 2 minutes.  Sit there and imagine me now, that whole time truly not knowing and desperately trying to figure out who was dead in my family.  

But finally, FINALLY, with such relief and total clarify, I realized that my ex-husband had died, not Chad.  But then I realized that oh my god, I'd already sold the handicapped van and now Chad could not get around if he came back to life .... but wait .... and then I was so confused again, at which point I must have drifted off to sleep and proceeded to have the most godawful nightmares.  I don't mean run of the mill nightmares.  I mean NIGHTMARES worse than anything Stephen King dream up even with a thousand creepy clowns with knives. 

Chad was alive in some of them, as in he got better but I'd burned up his body already. Not like I burned him up alive, but like why didn't I wait until at least a month after he died to cremate him???  Stuff that of course makes no sense.  And then in other dreams, he was everywhere even though he was dead.  I was at a museum and he was on the highlight reel of people enjoying the museum.  I was at a park and he was on a big billboard smiling down at me.  I could not escape  I fled underground to the subway, sat down on the subway and looked up .... at a poster of him looking at me like "Why did you burn my body up, I'm alive!".  In some he was at a special hospital for dead people that I would visit every day, for weeks at a time.  Then one day at the special hospital for dead people, he opened his eyes, opened his mouth and started to groan and drool.  He lifted his arm slowly and pointed at me - like, why am I at the special hospital for DEAD people?  Then the nurses came and said "Oh, well, you need to take him home now" and they discharged him right then and there, and I had no wheelchair, no van, no caregiver .... and then I woke up.  

I don't remember the rest of the next 24 hours.  I took enough (legal, prescribed to me, appropriately dosed) drugs to be as close as I could get to unconscious.   

I really and truly do not know how I am going to get through this.