Shortly after Leroy died from colon cancer, almost 8 years ago, a friend of ours would call me and say she had dreamt of him.  He was in his jeans and cowboy boots, short sleeve shirt and he was sitting on a rock somewhere, and he was smiling.  She had this dream a lot and I was always jealous because I really never had those kind of dreams.

He was buried in my heart but I simply couldn’t dial-up that kind of a dream.  I guess that’s why I love looking at all the photos around the house.  Big smile: Big Leroy.

That’s the way it’s been until last night, or more to the point, early this morning.  I really don’t know how long the dream lasted, I only know I didn’t want it to end. It was in color and it was a moving, talking, walking dream that felt so real.  I was outside the house to begin with, and there was some kind of power outage so I walked into a room and there he was, standing there in an orange printed shirt and I remember the bottom of the shirt was shredded. He was wearing his jeans too.  His presence startled me and when I said “OH” he smiled and said “I just got back.” “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

And then he leaned in and he kissed me.

I woke up.  But I wanted so badly to close my eyes and drop back into that dream.

And then he kissed me.

 

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