I dreamed of my Grandpa today. He died eleven years ago this month. It was the normal sort of mish-mosh dream that I have when I take a long nap in the middle of the day. Then Grandpa was there. He was awake and alert. He spoke with a clarity that he lost some time in my early teens. I don’t remember most of what he said despite the fact that I tried to hold onto it as the dream dissolved into consciousness. All I retained was a sense of his presence and love.
I’d like to believe that my Grandpa came to visit me, that he was really there. This is not the first time I’ve felt visited by people who are gone. But whether it was a visit, or the scattered dreams of someone who has been thinking of her Grandparents lately, it was still a good dream. It was nice to see him again.