My grandfather is standing in front of the west door, by the garage. I go over to him and he reaches his hand out to me as he did every time I’d see him for the last 15 years of his life. I shake his hand and it has warmth to it, which surprises me. He tells me I’m looking healthy and that he likes what I’ve done with the house. He’s especially happy that I’ve left the giant “B” on the wall next to the east door. I tell him it’ll always be his house. Then I tell him I miss him and he hugs me – something he never did when he was alive – and he tells me everything is going to be okay. He’s doing fine and everything is going to be okay. I’m crying now, harder than I’ve ever cried in my life. I’m crying like a feral child, lost and alone and hurting so bad and he’s telling me not to worry about it, it’ll all be okay. I feel the comfort radiating out of him, warm and calming, and I cry until I’m empty.
Dream Journal #4
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