Dreaming of the Dead

Last night I had my first dream about Eric in our new--their old--apartment. For those of you who don't know the entire story, about a month ago we moved into the garden apartment of our brownstone which was inhabited by our dear friend Kat, who moved out to Long Island to be across the street from her sister. Kat and Eric used to live downstairs from us; they were our close friends and closer neighbors. At the end of May, 2007, Eric died unexpectedly of a heart attack. Kat had a baby 9 months later. It's a story that makes me shiver each time I retell it, and I'm still in shock that it even happened.

I have sensed Eric's presence in this apartment, but Kat assures me that he came to Long Island with them. I know he did, but I think he still comes back to visit. Regardless, last night I dreamed that I found him in a secret room in the basement of our apartment. It surprisingly wasn't creepy or scary at all. I dreamed that I found this room, and it was full of all of Eric's toys from his childhood that Kat had forgotten to move. I was looking at the toys, and when I turned around and Eric was standing there. Afraid that he'd disappear before I could do anything, I ran over and hugged him with as much force and love and emotion as possible. Then he disappeared.

I repeatedly have a similar dream about a childhood friend, Heidi, who died in a car accident my junior year in high school. This dream, in various forms, comes about 2-3 times per year and always leaves me unsettled. In the dream Heidi shows up somewhere, and I ask, "Wait, I thought you were dead...where have you been?!" And it turns out she didn't die, but we just hadn't seen her since 11th grade. I always hug her continuously, cry, and try to catch her up on our lives since November 1990, but when I awake a sadness always lingers.

I guess that's just what some of us want when we lose someone so quickly--one last connection to make sure they know how much we loved them during their lives.