I dreamt about my grandfather last night. The first time since his death.
I was this age, but acted younger. We were at my parent’s townhome, alone. He was sleeping in their bedroom, except it looked like his and grandma’s bedroom. She was dead, not him.
One of those dreams where you know everything’s wrong, but it feels so right.
He looked younger too. Not as if I didn’t know him, but the grandpa that perhaps I felt I knew best. The active grandfather who liked cookies and hiking. Also the no-nonsense grandfather, although I suppose he was that at all ages.
I have forgotten the rest of the dream. Even know, I recall him standing in their bedroom and it’s starting to look like their bedroom around him. I see his face, slightly shiny, in profile. I know that face is really from a picture of him at a graduation at some southwest state college where he was the keynote speaker.
But I dreamed we were together. And I will not forget that.