The Dream

In my support group, the others all talked about The Dream.

Most of them had dreamt that their loved one had come back in a dream so vivid, they were sure it wasn't a dream. They knew it was more than a dream ... it was a visit.

I listened to these stories and wished I could have The Dream.

This morning, I did.

There she was, as real as the keyboard I'm typing on. I took her hand to kiss it, but instead she pressed it to her lips first, then I kissed her hand.

Then I just gazed at her face for a while. It took me a moment to realize it was the same, but different. She wasn't the cancer-worn woman she was when we parted, but she was young again, without a wrinkle, without a care.

I reached up and caressed her cheek, and I ran my thumb along her chin. She smiled.

I told her I'd like nothing more in the world than to hold her again, and we hugged.

That's when my brain started kicking in. I started telling myself this was a dream. It felt real, but it was a dream. Maybe it was time for her to go.

I woke up smiling.