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  • The only reoccurring dream I ever had was that she was still alive.

    I had missed being there when she died strangling with emphysema.

    We didn't have a phone in that cabin in the High Sierras where I lived with my hippie boyfriend. But I wrote to her often about my life. She was a romantic. She was intelligent. My grandmother nurtured my soul.

    By the time I got the letter it was too late. She was gone. At least I was there for her funeral mass but it was hard to look at the coffin on the altar knowing she was inside. Her absence haunted me.

    That's when the dreams began. In each one I'd discover she hadn't really died at all. I simply didn't know where she was and then found she was alive. In those dreams we were together again. It was as if she reached down from Heaven to enter my subconscious where I felt her so sharply that I'd awaken.

    I never had a chance to say good bye. I loved her. I wait for another dream to bring her back.
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