I haven’t been remembering my dreams lately.  But I do remember the dream I was having this morning just before waking up.

I dreamt I was my ghost, returning to my home– the place where I was murdered by my next door neighbor who broke in somehow.  The most striking part of my dream was not my actual murder, but of the revelations my ghost was having of all of the many ways, all of the many insipid moments that had seemed normal but that would ultimately add up to my demise……. Very strange.  I was not afraid because I was already dead.  But what I did feel, as my ghost brain replayed those suspicious moments was almost like a nostalgic dread.  Like a sinking pit in my stomach of all of the things that I had missed that shouldn’t have been missed…. the tug of knowing things could NEVER be changed but knowing the precise way that they COULD have changed had I only been clued in. If I’d only repaired the doorway.  If I’d only noticed the sideways, dark and furtive glances he cast my way as we both ascended our own driveways…………… Awareness of specific events that led up to my death that were at one time mutable, but now, were immutable.  Set in the stone of my own eternity.

I’m thinking these things relate to the death of my dog and the events that I keep playing over and over in my head.  All of these strung together moments and choices that I made that could have been different… that could have resulted in her still  being here…. I’m dog sitting my brother’s dog and he’s sniffing over all of her favorite places… her favorite spots… under the table, at the end of the couch, in front of the door, on the south side of my bed…… The trails she created in the yard and in the house.  But she’s gone, and another dog lounges at my feet.

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