Thursday, September 10, 2009
Dante Thoughts Part III: Last night I had a dream (Originally posted 12-5-05)
I dreamt that his death was a dream. In my dream he was a civil engineer working abroad. He flew home for my family's annual Christmas dinner...and on the very night of the dinner no less. A bus dropped him off at the front door and I was peeping out the window when he stepped off of it. In my mind I knew this couldn't be real because Dante is dead and has been dead for almost 5 years. But it was sooo real. I could feel the frost from the window against my nose, my breath condensed on the cold glass, I could hear the Christmas music in the background and smell Turkey and other holiday foods cooking. It was real...it had to be. I could see Dante's face break out into a smile when my grandmother walked up to him and hugged him hello. I hesitated in the doorway unsure what to do with myself. I kept telling myself this is a dream, only a dream. But then a voice whispered that actually, his death was the dream and this was reality. His death was a dream, albeit a prophetic dream. The voice told me that I had to warn Dante to go to the doctor and get his heart checked before it was too late. If he went to the doctor now I could save him, he didn't have to die, he could be saved if I take him to the doctor and get his heart checked right now, right now, right now, the voice insisted! After my grandmother finished greeting Dante his eyes searched until they found me. I didn't think it was possible but his smile grew wider, brighter, so big it dazzled me. He dropped his bags and I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck. We nearly tumbled to the floor. I felt him in my arms. I was not dreaming that, couldn't have been. He felt so real. I could hear his laughter ringing in my ears, smell his cologne tickling my nose, I felt his arms around me squeezing me tightly. God he felt so good, so real. We stood there for what seemed like hours just squeezing each other, my tears wetting his shoulder. He was real, I swear he was. But then I started to panic...he was going to die the voice said. I pulled him to the couch and made him sit with me and I told him we had to go to the doctor immediately. He laughed and told me I was being silly..."I'm fine", he said. I told him that his heart was a ticking time bomb and that on February twenty-first he was going to collapse and die from heart failure. His fingers stroked my cheek and he kissed me and said, "you worry too much, just enjoy me". After that how could I not? So I did. We kissed...deeply. He was exactly as I remembered him. Same smile, same voice, same long arms, same deep eyes, same warm body...everything just as it should be. But for some reason I was filled with anxiety. I knew he was going to die. I couldn't let him die, I needed him. Again I pressed him to go to the doctor so we could be sure he was okay and again he refused. He assured me we had all the time in the world.Then my grandmother's turkey timer went off to alert us that dinner was ready. At the same time my alarm clock went off jarring me from sleep. I turned the clock off and proceeded to cry hysterically, thoroughly soaking my pillow with my sorrow. It was just a dream after all.
I've been crying all morning. My eyes look like lasers. I was doing fine, I really was. I was thinking about him every now and again with no sadness, no pain. What changed? So I talked to him while I sat there in bed crying. I told him I missed him so much it was breaking my heart. I told him it felt like I'd lost him all over again. I told him that no man has ever loved me the way he loved me. I told him I needed him, couldn't go a day without thinking of him. Then I lit a candle for him and started getting ready for work. I cried the whole time. I'm crying now. I've not been this distraught over him in a while. I swear I thought I was gonna wake up and he was gonna be lying next to me smiling. That's how real that dream was. I could smell his cologne on my sheets and in the air, I could still feel his warmth on the left side of my bed...his head had left an indentation on the pillow on the left side of my bed. I never sleep on the left side of my bed! I wish he could come back to me and stay, I need him. Why'd he have to die? Why couldn't it be someone else, someone no one cared about. It isn't fucking fair! We were supposed to travel together, finish reading Aristotle together, go to the lake front and people watch together, lay in the Centennial Rose Garden and dream together, splash in the water at Fountain Square together...we were supposed to grow old and die TOGETHER. The love of my life is gone and he is never coming back...ever. That is so final. It's so unfair...we'd only just begun. Now the tears won't stop. I don't think they'll ever stop.