“Go get some pizzas.”

I grabbed my car keys and walked out of my dad’s office with the intent of picking up a couple of pies and returning promptly. I was driving on the expressway and blinked, only to open my eyes second, first smelling the salty air of the creek I spent my childhood on. It was sunny, warm, and perfect. There was a gentle breeze as I opened my eyes and stared now at my neighbor’s house from their dock, no longer concerned for pizzas or my father. I turned my head to the right, only to notice my grandfather’s house was just up the beach. I traveled down the sand, listening to the calm creek water lapping against the shore and observing overhead the birds of that afternoon. I made my way up onto the lawn and stood before the house.

Blue. Peppered in shadows from the massive oak trees that never seemed to stop growing. The house was covered in windows that faced the water. The sunsets were magic. Sunrise was even prettier. I saw my mother walking to and from the kitchen, as if she was cleaning, or just doing her mom tasks. I said nothing, merely observing her in her element. I missed it so much. Now, now I missed it.

“Do you want to talk?” I said in my head. I knew I said it in my head. She replied in my head.


I made my way up the deck and into the house. It was empty except for her. Immediately, my nose was grabbed by the smell of Merit Ultra Light 100 cigarettes, as I observed a lit one on the kitchen table ashtray, smoke dancing its way towards the ceiling. She stood in the entrance of the kitchen, and we simultaneously walked towards one another. She grabbed me in an ever-familiar hug. I breathed in heavy her hairspray and perfume. How could I ever forget? We stood there in silence for what seemed like hours.

“I’m so sorry.” I pulled away from her. “Sorry for what?”


We made our way to the kitchen chairs and sat beside each other. She took a long drink of some soda and a drag off her cigarette, all the while looking at me and I looked back at her. We said nothing for quite some time. I felt like I hadn’t seen my mom in years.

“I’m not mad at you.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

I never asked her why she did it. It didn’t even cross my mind. Part of me knew. Part of me didn’t know. Part of me didn’t want to know. We talked about current events, family, my dad, my brother. “Sorry to leave you with them.” She rolled her big green eyes with the same amount of sarcasm she apologized with. I laughed. “It’s alright.” We kept on this way, just maintaining a pleasant atmosphere, until we were interrupted by a man.

He opened the back door to the house and glided elegantly into the kitchen with us. He was tall, thin, and handsome. I never got his name. He had a sandy-colored suit on, a creamy yellow tie, a rather expensive looking dress shirt on, and dark brown shoes. His hair was golden and wavy, parted to one side, short, but styled. His skin was sun kissed. And his eyes were kind. In his hands was a clipboard.

“Hello.” He smiled. “How are you?”

I felt myself losing awareness.

“Who is that?”

My mom turned to him and smiled, and then turned back to me. “Oh, him? He has to follow me around for a bit. I spent the past two weeks with the guy. It’s why it took me so long to see you. But I can visit whoever I want now.”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt ladies, but we really have to go now.” He intended that command for her, and she, with heaving sigh, told me she’d return soon.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Nice meeting you!” The beautiful blonde man guided my mom to the door and let her exit first. They shut the door and I was alone in the house. I continued to lose my awareness. I got up from the chair and hazily went to the door myself, only to open it into a swirl of blurring and uncontrolled movements. I shut my eyes to steady my head.


I opened my eyes and it was morning.





I had this dream about two weeks after my mother died from a very tragic battle with alcoholism. I struggle daily with the belief in one true or specific god, however, I believe in energy, and spirituality, and I believe that when I have these dreams it is her. It’s too real.


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