I had the most wonderful dream this morning. I was flying in a superfast jet airplane and my brother was the pilot. He took us way out into the stratosphere. We swirled and dipped and dropped and soared. It felt like we were dancing, way up above everybody else on earth.

He kept laughing a familiar laugh, the one that always scared me a little bit when he was alive. I never knew what Josh would do next and I sure as hell didn’t know what he was capable of in my dream. Were we flying too high? Were we turning too fast? Would we be shot down by enemy forces? There were moments when I couldn’t help but scream in terror. He just laughed again and told me to relax.

At some point I realized I was dreaming and the struggle began to keep it going as long as possible. I tried to be calm and enjoy his reckless flying, but the jig was already up. I saw people below us and knew we were about to land. Somehow I also knew that when we landed, we’d have to go to church. There would be a dinner afterwards, and we’d be stuck for hours.

The plane glided down and he faded out, just a ghost in the pilot’s seat, but smiling at me anyway. It was a look that said, see you next time. Have yourself a good day. And I stared at him, silently begging. Please don’t leave yet. Let’s go up again.

But there was no more flying, just eyes open and light through a window. I stared at the ceiling, too sad to move. Then I jumped up to search for a bus pass, trip over a kitten, and grab one more chance to make something out of being alive.

Thank you, Josh. I hope you visit again soon.

Photo by me, finally.