You have gone. I can neither eat nor walk, but I can sleep.
Above you, where flowers grow, day after day, endless rain comes down, washing the earth.
Dreams come. The first dream is cruel. I wake, hear you slip out of the bed, shake, yawn. I hear your footsteps going downstairs.
“Oh Mist! I had the most awful dream!” Your squeaky yawn from somewhere downstairs says you heard me, but where’s breakfast?
“I dreamed you had died…..and such a long sad dream! It’s alright now, it’s gone. I’ll get up now, I’m coming….”
Then I wake up.
The second dream is happy. I wake in the night and go to the top of the stairs. In the little hallway below me you are wagging, your whole body wriggling a greeting as you look up at me.
I know this isn’t normal…this isn’t dreaming…this isn’t physical….but what? My mind doesn’t understand. My legs won’t work as I try to go downstairs. I give up on them and start to glide. I raise my arms like a silly Halloween ghost. Grinning, wriggling, you join in the fun.
“Whoo-ooo! We’re both ghosts now!”
Denial. A stage of grief, so I’m told. The dreams won’t let you go.