I dreamt about Sonny last night.
I need not tell you handsome he was. We’ve covered this once before.
He didn’t do anything too terribly special. If there were coyotes (the coyote dreams are a whole thing these days), he steered clear of them. He didn’t do anything to make me worry. He was who he always was.
And he didn’t let me think it was real. He never does. I never dream about him and wake up looking for him, like some cruel trick of the mind. Without saying anything at all, or changing the pace of the dream whatsoever, he was there…
…And then he was gone…
But he dropped into my torrid dreams for a quiet visit to let me know that he was still out there somewhere. And to an academic, an urban elitist, an intellectual that sometimes struggles to truly trust that there’s something beyond all of this… I can take all the heaven I can get.
All of this on the one year anniversary of his earthly goodbye.