I almost never dream of Leroy.

I’ve had friends tell me he’s in their dreams a lot.  Not mine.

Last night was one of the rare times where he was so real, I woke up wondering where he was.  It was 3 o’clock in the morning, when I lifted my head and looked over at his side of the bed.  His pillows were there, like they’ve been forever, and I’m not sure what I expected to see, but the dream was so real, I wasn’t quite sure.

I remembered in detail, he was wearing his jeans, and one of this old “war” shirts, the ones he took with him to the badlands of the world.  He had on his cowboy boots and he needed a haircut.  The hair on the back of his neck was curled up like it used to be before he’d given in to the barber.

I saw his smile.  I don’t remember any words or hearing his laugh but the image was crystal clear.

I didn’t go back to sleep for quite a while.  I didn’t want to lose the image in my head.

It was so nice to see him again.

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