We meet walking up the lane, there’s a dry stone wall beside us.
Hi Larry!
He inclines towards me and, not for the first time, patiently reminds me.
It’s Leroy Rev. Mugo.
Sorry!
Err. You’re dead aren’t you?
I know the test. I poke his arm.
Crikey! he does have a body.
We continue chatting up the lane avoiding the subject.
He’s changed, a little older, content I’d say.
Later we are sitting in a row.
Larry…no sorry Leroy is sitting one down from me.
I stare.
It’s definitely him and he’s alive.
Then morning came and I got up and went about my day.
Dreams like this, of departed friends coming alive, are not uncommon.
That’s happened to me twice, very clearly, dreaming of close friends who’d recently died. In both cases, there was a certain amount of guilt or concern on my part that I could have done something more but in reality couldn’t. In both dreams, I knew the people concerned were dead and in both they’d somehow come to say goodbye. Each time I woke up with a sense of closure surrounding those deaths which persists. The mind is a funny, wistful thing.
Interesting how the mind works through stuff while the rest is asleep. Yes, I know what you mean about coming to say goodbye.