Well, that was an odd dream.
Last night I dreamed about my dear friend R. She just turned up…somewhere – my house? Or were we riding in her car (that red Saturn coupe?) Or were we in our law school apartment, with the ridiculous purple curtains? But it was just like old times.
She was laughing and happy, her hair was chin-length and shiny, and her makeup was perfect, as always. Dark lipstick, big smile, hands gesturing rapidly as she spoke, the stone of her engagement ring winking in the light. We talked, laughed, but something was nagging at the back of my mind… until finally, I remembered.
“I think I need to tell you something. You…died. You’re gone.”
She laughed at me. “Oh, that.” She shrugged, as though I’d told her she had lipstick on her teeth.
“I mean, I am so happy to see you but… you aren’t supposed to be here.”
Another laugh, a smile, a pat on the arm (she was so tactile, always linking her arm through mine like an L.M. Montgomery character!) “I know!”
And then I woke up.
I’ve never put much stock in my dreams, and often barely remember them, but she was different. In high school and later, R would recount her crazy dreams at length and we’d pick them apart. “So what do you think that means?” I have tears in my eyes writing this. I think I know. I miss you, and I love you, too.