Eric called me the other night. Ok, so he didn’t really call me. But I did finally have an Eric dream. It was strange (as all my dreams have been lately) but didn’t really leave me any more upset.
I dreamt that Eric called to tell us that he hadn’t actually died. He had been sequestered on a jury for some trial and wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. The case was now over so he could let us know that he was alright. There was also something about a backpack he wanted back.
At first I didn’t know what to think. Then, I was mostly angry. How could he do this to me? To my parents?? How is it possible that he was required to not let anyone know his whereabouts for almost a year?
Then I had a vision of Eric lying in that hospital room with the bandage around his head and his non-reactive pupils. Even in my dream, I knew it wasn’t true. I knew Eric wasn’t just hiding. He was really gone.
Have you ever had a dream that just repeats all night long? This one sort of did that, except it was only the end of the dream; the part where I realize that Eric is really and truly dead.
I guess I’m still working it out; my psyche is finally getting ready to admit that he’s not on some trip to the darkest reaches of the Amazon. There is not a reasonable explanation for his absence.
And there never will be.
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