Saw my recently dead friend Melz in a dream last night. In real life he died on January 2, defying the doctors who predicted he wouldn’t make it to New Years.
In the dream it was shortly before his death, but he was game to hang out with several of us. All I recall is that he was sitting on the floor and drawing enthusiastically on a low table. We were playing some kind of drawing game, I recall he drew a few vegetables. His drawings were pretty good, his line very confident and fluid. I don’t remember him ever drawing in life, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the talented fellow could draw if he wanted to.
Sekhnet, who interprets dreams as intently as the old soothsayers used to read animal entrails for portents, might say this dream was a reminder, as I look around at the barnacled shore, littered with dried out sea life, that Melz would give anything to be alive now. Melz, she might say, showed up to remind me how precious life is, and how sweet and full of surprises.
“You see!” she might say, with the excitement of a kindergarten teacher when one of her students first reads their name out loud, “even you realize the meaning of that dream.”
I will smile, and nod. Although, to be truthful…