Estimated Reading Time 1 Minutes
Tonight I woke from a bad dream,
And it took several moments for reality
To fill back through me the way you feel
Cold water going down on a hot day.
I dreamt my grandmother on my mother’s side
Was still alive though she’s been gone thirteen years.
And she was living in the old house my grandpa built.
(Not completely but significantly, so same thing.)
That home has been gone for years too,
But memory restored it brick by brick in my mind.
Grandma was alive again but still old and feeble.
And in my dream I dreamed (an extraordinary experience),
But an awful one because she was living alone.
What if she fell! What if she died! What if she couldn’t call for help!
Panic flooded my heart. I cried. Then I cried out.
And I was in my parents house as a teenager
Begging them to call and check that grandma was ok.
And then I was here in the dark in my room awake.
The plants on my window darkened to black silhouettes against the dim light of the moon,
The ache to see my grandmother again strong as it’s ever been.
And I’m lying in bed remembering her as I write these words.
And my heart beats: she’s gone…she’s gone… she’s gone.
