9th
In Dreams
Every morning, I wake up around 6. Sometimes I get up and do stuff before work or go to the gym, take a bike ride, work on a project. I’m not an early riser, but I’m finding that I need to stretch my days to get it all accomplished. Lately, I’ve been getting up at 6, re-setting my alarm for 7:15 and going back to sleep. This pretty much guarantees dreaming.
This morning, however, was a cathartic experience.
I saw Phil, just as I remember him: vibrant. We were in a white room without walls, lying on white down pillows, but it wasn’t sexual, it was basic and comforting. I told him I miss him, and that it’s so good to be able to see him, to have this chance. He hugged me back and said It’s all good. We just lay there. Minor detail, but he’d want to know that under his white tee shirt, his abs were solid. His limbs were sprightly. His hair was spiky, just like in high school, and he just looked…young…and happy.
I reawakened, completely calm. And I didn’t feel the urge to cry this time.