I used to dream. Vast, epic, technicolor, Academy Award worthy dreams. Then Mr. Virgo died and my night world went dark. Gone. It was puzzling and disconcerting to wake up and feel that my night consisted of nothing but dead air. I think it compounded my sadness as I so desperately wanted to dream. I can remember two dreams in the two and a half years since that day I lost Mr. Virgo. And both dreams had him in them. The first, I was laying in his arms, my head on his shoulder. The second, I went to see him at his new job. He was wearing a beautiful brown suit, shuffling papers at his desk, and the smile on his face when he saw me was so beautiful. His eyes sparkled like raindrops in the summer sun. Other than those two dreams, my nights were dark…until about a month ago. I’m not having those epic, novelesque movie-dreams yet. But it is such a blessed relief to wake up and not feel like I’m coming out of a coma. I don’t know what the difference is, but whatever it is, I’m grateful.

❤️

“A dream comes when there are many cares, and many words mark the speech of a fool.”

Ecclesiastes 5:3

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