Two long months went by, and then I had a dream. What was extraordinary about this dream is that it did not end when I woke up. At key moments, I would wake up. Then, I would fall back asleep, and end up back where the last dream left off, as if it was a movie that was paused while I was awake, and unpaused when I went back to sleep.
The dream was about a girl who lived down the street from me named Mary. I knew her since we were little, and she was a good friend of my sisters and me. Although it was about her, I believe that the dream really was, at least in part, about Aurora.
My sisters and I were preparing for some kind of party or gathering. I asked them where Mary was, and one of them said, "Don't you remember?" And the other said, "She died two days ago." I then realized that we were preparing for a funeral.
The dream faded out into darkness, and in the state between asleep and awake, I was overtaken by a profound sadness. Not again, I thought. I woke up in a sweat.
When I returned to sleep, the scene was different. My sisters were still there, but we were no longer preparing for Mary's funeral. I asked them what day it was, and it turned out to be two days earlier. With the foreknowledge I gained from the previous dream, I ran off to save her. I found myself in my backyard with a shovel. It was night, and rain was pouring down hard. I frantically dug into the earth, knowing that Mary was underground somewhere, suffocating. With each stroke I moved large amounts of earth, while the rain drenched my face and clouded my eyes. Finally, I dug up a large wooden crate, the kind they use in warehouses. I pried it open with the shovel, but I was too late. She was gone. I woke again, with cloudy eyes.
Upon returning to the dream, months had passed. I tried to convey to others my feelings of sadness, loneliness, guilt, and frustration. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen and understand, but no one understood how my feelings could be so intense. "You hardly knew her," they would say. "It's not healthy to let this get to you so much." My frustration grew. No one knew her like I did, and no one knew of what she planted inside me, and how that part could suffer so much without her. How could they understand? I didn't even understand.
In the next dream, several more months had passed. The sadness and emptiness seemed without end, and I had no one to turn to for help.
My mother asked me to take out the trash. It seemed pointless; I didn't feel like doing it or anything else. Still, I walked outside, carrying the heavy black bags. My feet dragged on the cold concrete. The street was desolate, with only the isolated orange streetlights breaking the darkness. I walked to the alley down the street from my house, to one of the trash dumpsters there. Upon entering the alley, I looked down to the other end.
My arms immediately went limp, and my hands dropped the bags where I stood. There, across the way, stood Mary. She was wearing a beautiful white dress, with a white veil. It almost looked like a wedding dress, but not quite.
I ran to her, calling her name, and I soon realized that her back was to me. She was walking away. I took her shoulder, she turned around, and I embraced her.
"Mary," I said. "I thought that I'd never see you again. I thought you were gone."
"Of course not," she said. "I'm here."
"Come on, come with me," I said ecstatically. "Everyone will be so happy to see you."
She shook her head. It was then that I noticed a shadowy figure standing next to her. It seemed to be wearing dark sunglasses and a black fedora.
"I can't," she said. "It's my time to go."
"Go?" I replied. "You can't...I mean, think of your family and friends...it's been so painful..." I started to cry.
She put her hand on my shoulder. "We all have our time," she said gently. "When yours comes, I'll be waiting."
I looked to her sadly, as she began to walk away with the dark stranger. "Goodbye," I said.
She turned around, and said, "Not goodbye, only so long."
The dream faded out for a last time, and into a new summer day.