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Waking the Dead

In my dreams, she’s alive. We’re moving back into the apartment where I spent my teenage years. Sometimes, even the dog is there. If I’m lucid enough to realize the dream is impossible, the dream finds a way. She got better. She came back–don’t they all come back eventually?

Most of the time, it’s just normal. I’m me, she’s her, and we’re happily setting up furniture, working around our schedules, remarking on how little the neighborhood has changed.

I awake sad, raked-over. Sometimes I wish she would stay dead. Other times, I’m glad to have her for a little while, as I sleep.

3 Responses to Waking the Dead

  1. Sen says:

    Awww. That’s sad. {frykitty}

  2. Brody says:

    Sad yes, and also very beautiful. What a truly beautiful post.

  3. Sara says:

    I have never been to your site before (I got her through my SiteMeter…from BlogSnob), so I have no idea who you’re talking about, but it was absolutely beautiful. I just wanted to say that. 🙂