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I dreamt of you last night.

I dreamt of you last night.


In the dream, a friend was having people over, and they all had their people with them—their closest people. I looked around for you, and you weren’t there. That’s when I remembered you’re not here anymore.


I knew I couldn’t keep myself from crying, so I informed the host I must go. She looked at me, blonde and blue-eyed, and said, “I understand,” and then watched me leave. When I made it outside, I cried, that intense awful cry of grief where you can’t control the tsunami waves of pain that wash over you.


There was a staircase. It was long, and the stairs were thin.


I feared I’d fall, so I grabbed the railing and walked step by step. My heart in physical pain, and my eyes burning from tears.


It was 4:05 a.m. when I woke from that dream.


The same feeling inside my chest. The dream disappeared, but the feeling, that awfully painful feeling, remained.


I closed my eyes, placed my hands over my chest, and imagined you happier now. I imagined us in our childhood and how you’d look at me with that peaceful smile. You’d watch me, always afraid I’d accidentally hurt myself, get lost, fall off a platform, or pull the emergency door on an airplane.


You were always watching me.


And you still are.


One Love.



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