I had a bad dream last night.
In my dream, you’re dead.
The dream itself was a blurry mixture of sickness, (*zap!) car accident, (*zap!) overdose, (*zap!) and another eerie things. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember the cause of your death.
The next thing I knew, I was standing at the back of this dimly lit room. Your coffin was placed at the altar. There were candles everywhere. Crossed my mind then, that the room is actually my school’s chapel.
I saw your Mom and Dad, mourning, but I saw no one else. And then I found myself inside a strange bathroom with a huge bathtub. I saw myself punching the yellow walls before I ended up crying, silently.
Then I woke up. I was in my bedroom. Automatically, I slipped my hand under my pillow, looking for my cell phone. The digital clock on its screen showed 4:37. I rubbed my cheek and found out that it was actually damp with tears.
So the crying scene was real.
The tears were real.
Are-you-OK was the last thing that crossed my mind before I slipped back my cell phone under my pillow. I closed my eyes and as if I had just found a powerful charm, I kept saying “Please, stay” “Please, stay” “Please, stay” repetitively until I fell asleep.
But the feeling of losing you stays up to now.
And it scares me.