“Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.” — Vincent van Gogh
The big red numbers on the clock lit the room. Six thirteen a.m.; it was way too
early to call Angela. I rolled out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom, and turned on the
shower. As I stood waiting for the water to warm up, I wondered if I should write down
my dream. Would I remember it by the time I talked with her? Something told me I
would never forget it. As I drove to work, I replayed in my mind every detail. It was so
real. It had to be real.
But why would Charlie come to see me?
It had been six years since he passed away.
It was the first time anyone I truly cared about had passed. I was only 24 when he
died. He was just 26. His death shocked all our friends, but most of all it sent Angela
reeling. Charlie and Angie had been in love since they were 15. I don’t know if any of us
fully got over the loss of Charlie. I am not sure if Angie ever will.
When I got to work, I looked to see if my boss was in yet. I couldn’t wait to talk to
Angie. I couldn’t wait another minute. I sent her an email asking her to call me as soon
as she was free.
I let out a little laugh when my phone immediately rang.
“Angie?” I said.
“Yea what’s going on?”
“I had a dream last night.”
“Was it about Charlie?” she asked.
“Yes!” I said filled with excitement.
I knew it! It was too real. I knew it!
I asked her, “Did you dream about Charlie last night?”
Check out Pieces of Me: Life of a Recovering Dysfunctional for the ending to this story and many more.