No one told me I’d dream of him.

Some days are days of missing.
The realms of longing.
Where in our hearts, these places dwell.
So deep, so bare, so real.
No one ever told me I would dream of him and that those dreams would be so tangible.
In them I can reach out and touch his rough skin, look right into his eyes and feel the effect of his smile.
No one told me that in these dreams, it would feel like he was alive again.
In them I can literally feel his presence and how it changes a space and fills it with assurance unspoken.
No one ever told me I would wake from these dreams with the tiniest of moments so full of hope. Maybe I had woken to a different story. Maybe my friend was here.
But then you fall. And when you fall from these dreams, you hit the ground hard and with such a weight that you have to walk that day with soil up to your knees.
And yet, as hard as they are to wake from, I don’t want them to stop. I’m afraid of them stopping. I’m afraid of forgetting.

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