August 20th, 2009 - 2:03 pm
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I’m in my parents’ entryway. Light is streaming in through the window in their old front door, and the bell rings. The door swings open and standing there, impossibly tall and slim, young, glowing, is my grandmother. It can’t be her, of course; she’s dead; but it is. Unmistakeably.
I stare, openmouthed, silent. She looks at me for a moment then turns. She casts a glance over her shoulder as she steps down to the driveway. Out there everything is the warmest, clearest, softest of summer afternoon light. I call, frantically, for my mom. I look away just for an instant, up the inside stairs to the living room, and when I look back my grandma is gone. When my mom gets down to the entryway I am sobbing. I don’t know it’s a dream and I can’t understand what’s happening, can’t make any sense of it.
I wake confused, breathless.
I miss her.
Allison said: August 24th, 2009 at 8:24 pm
My grandmother died nine years ago, and I still dream about her. Once I dreamed that I was given a time machine in a box wrapped in brown paper, and I went back in time to see her again.
I dreamed about her last week, actually. We were in the basement of my grandparents’ old house, and I could SEE her, but no one else did, and I knew that it was wrong but wonderful.