Three moments in three days: dream

In the dream, I'm walking out of the theater and into another large space, open, like a convention center or an airport, high ceilings. And coming toward me going the other way is Kathy. She looks the way she used to look except her hair is pure blond, no pink. She's waving hello to someone in the crowd around us, still coming at me but not like she notices me or not like she wants to see me. 

When she passes, I follow. "Kathy, I want to talk to you!" 

It's coming up on a year since she died, and both of those facts are unbelievable to me.

As I follow, the space around us draws wider and emptier, the people disappear. Nothing all around, just Kathy and me.

I don't know what I want to say to her when she turns. I ask her how she is. I ask for a hug. I ask if she's seen my dad.

"Oh yeah," she says. "He comes here, too."

***

Next night, I try to go there again. I lie in bed and picture the place, the high ceilings, the nothing all around. Try to dream my way back there, but it doesn't work.

***

Next night, I try to go there again. I lie in bed and picture the place, the high ceilings, the nothing all around. Try to dream my way back there, but it doesn't work.