03-28-2020, 10:43 AM
I had a dream of Dan this morning. I was lying in bed, putting off getting up as has become my habit during the shelter-in-place. Last night, Stacy had tried to convince me to join her for a hike, but I was determined to sleep in yet again for fear of rain, and despite my copious hours of sleep over the last two weeks, I was still drowsy enough to go for one more round of slumber.
I am entering the BGC, although it's not the BGC; it is set up like it has never been. There are several long tables, and Dan is seated at the front one of them, facing me. I know in the dream that Dan is gone, so I'm delighted to see him. It's a young Dan, fresh faced and somewhat naive, unburdened with the baggage of life that would weigh us both down in the decades to come, like when I first met him. He looks up somewhat blankly, as if he doesn't quite know where he is, and babbles at me as was his wont when he was high. I get the sense that he either doesn't know he has passed or is in some reincarnative stage of reset, inbetween the living world and what lies beyond, a future incarnation hopefully as something less tortured. I reach down to touch his hand. It is materialized through the table, just the hand, with the rest of his forearm buried within another dimension so to be obscured by the hardwood tabletop in this mortal world. His hand is warm, very palpably so. I say through my tears how much I miss him and that he is welcome to visit me at any time. I turn away for a moment, and he's gone.
I stopped wearing Dan's pendant a while ago. I was too heavy to carry so it sits in its box and I pass it to and fro on my way to bed. I'm carrying the skeletool again. It's very useful, or at least, I've learned how to make use of it in spite of it's absurd design. I've thought of Dan and his prepper obsession during the shelter-in-place, imagining him tallying his stock of supplies and cleaning his guns, hoping for zombies.
I am entering the BGC, although it's not the BGC; it is set up like it has never been. There are several long tables, and Dan is seated at the front one of them, facing me. I know in the dream that Dan is gone, so I'm delighted to see him. It's a young Dan, fresh faced and somewhat naive, unburdened with the baggage of life that would weigh us both down in the decades to come, like when I first met him. He looks up somewhat blankly, as if he doesn't quite know where he is, and babbles at me as was his wont when he was high. I get the sense that he either doesn't know he has passed or is in some reincarnative stage of reset, inbetween the living world and what lies beyond, a future incarnation hopefully as something less tortured. I reach down to touch his hand. It is materialized through the table, just the hand, with the rest of his forearm buried within another dimension so to be obscured by the hardwood tabletop in this mortal world. His hand is warm, very palpably so. I say through my tears how much I miss him and that he is welcome to visit me at any time. I turn away for a moment, and he's gone.
I stopped wearing Dan's pendant a while ago. I was too heavy to carry so it sits in its box and I pass it to and fro on my way to bed. I'm carrying the skeletool again. It's very useful, or at least, I've learned how to make use of it in spite of it's absurd design. I've thought of Dan and his prepper obsession during the shelter-in-place, imagining him tallying his stock of supplies and cleaning his guns, hoping for zombies.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse