The Dream

I dreamed of you once. It was the strangest dream. You were helping me find a lost key on the railway tracks. Mortal that I am, I kept looking around to see if a train was on the way and whether I’d be road-kill soon. Angel that you are, you offered to flit around the tracks and find my key. After all, as you said, nothing could harm you anymore.

I let you search, just enjoying being with you. Watching you. Observing the contours of your face. Your dazzling smile. Your long surgeon’s fingers. The way you turned around and winked at me reassuringly every time I heard a train approaching.

You found my precious key and we went to a road-side cafe. You said you had loads of things to tell me. You told me to tell your mother to stop crying for you. After all, as I could see, you were alive and kicking. Just not with us. You told me to tell her that you were happy. Then you leaned forward conspiratorially and asked me if I wanted to hear a secret. I said yes, of course. You looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then you proceeded to tell me the formula. The formula of how to die. It's quite easy, you said, pulling a napkin toward you. I'll write down the equation. All you have to do is balance it.

You wrote down the equation and passed on the napkin to me. Just as soon as you learn to balance this equation, you can join me, you said. And then you smiled such a dazzling smile that I couldn't look at you anymore. And then you left me. Again. Just as you had three months ago.

I woke up in tears, trying to clutch at the fragments of your entity. I didn't want to let you go. Not ever. Not again. I tried going back to sleep just so I could see you again, if only in a dream. But it didn't work. Nothing I did could bring you back.

Ever.

(In memory of Deepak. 16.Aug.1982 - 20.Jan.2003)