When You’re Talking in Your Sleep
May 10, 2010
I saw Mark in my dream.
He was standing there, in my room, and we were having this conversation. We were talking like old friends, even though I never met the man, and he kept smiling and me and taking this once piece of hair I had and tucking in behind my ear. He kept smiling down at me and laughing with me. It was completely silent, I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed so happy. He motioned toward the door and he walked through it and outside was standing Ryan.
I think I said something like, “Oh, I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
He nodded and smiled. He had the most wonderful smile.
Ryan and Mark walked away from me and I felt a shiver run down my spine. The sky turned dark. When I woke up I was drenched in sweat and it was dark still in my room. I swear I could see him proped up against the boxes stacked in front of my door. A silver outline of him stood there, with Ryan, watching me as I slept.
“Mark?”
No answer.
“Mark?”
No answer.
“Mark? Are you there?”
I snapped out of my half-awake, half-dream phase to realize that it is impossible for Mark to be there, or Ryan. They’re both dead. I went back to sleep with an uneasy feeling in my stomach, hoping I would see Mark again when I closed my eyes, but he was gone.
A while ago, right after Ruthie died, I told my mom that I thought the kids who I wrote obituaries for were following me around. I told her that when I walked to class, or when I was scared at night, or when I was feeling lonely, that I could feel their arms wrapping around me and holding me. She laughed at me and called me crazy.
I know Mark was in my room that night. I know he was smiling and laughing with me. I know he is still here.
He is a lost soul taken from us too soon.
I wonder where Mark is now.
