I had a dream last night about someone I loved very much.  He was mean to me in the dream. Not that he meant to be mean, but he wouldn’t say that he loved me. He didn’t say he didn’t, but he was evasive and distracted and didn’t pay any attention to me.

I wanted to go home in my dream, but he wouldn’t let me. Come with me to this party, he told me, and so I went with him, and everyone we knew was there, and I was proud to be there with him, and I almost forgot that I was hurt.

Then I woke up and I looked out at the dark in my room and wondered why I hadn’t heard from him in so long and where he was, and then I remembered that he was dead. He’d been dead for 30 years.

It took me until noon to get over it.