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.