His Ghost Visited

The Australian came to me in my sleep last night. We walked moorish hills with the sun positioned just on the horizon for hours. He held me tightly against his side every step of the way. His death was never mentioned but it hung in the air like the peircing wane of a boat whistle signaling departure. 

We fell asleep together in a grassy hillside nave overlooking miles and miles of sunset cover country. As I began to wake, slowly returning to consciousness, I felt myself drifting away but could still see him resting peacefully, a soft smile on his lips. 

Was it only a dream, brought on by my conversation about him with a friend yesterday? Or did the tears I shed as I listened to his recorded voice for the first time in ages call him from the beyond to meet me in the golden lit firmament  between his world and mine? 

10 thoughts on “His Ghost Visited

  1. This made me happy for you and a little jealous. I lost my father some time ago. It’s longer than it feels. There are times I miss him so much and have wished for a dream so I could see him, hear him and know the comfort of those things again.

  2. My heart deeply hurts for you every time this comes up. I’m betting the conversation with your friend led to the listening of his voice which caused you to bring your subconscious to the fore. Bittersweet, that dream I guess. I’m not sure whether you should thank your friend or smack him/her.

    Mike

Talk to me. Please.

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