You’re at the window of my childhood bedroom. I can see through you, but I’m happy to see you regardless. I tell you about my challenges at work – you have ideas. And then you address maybe what should have been the first topic of conversation. “Check it out,” you tell me, “I figured out how to be a ghost!”

“No way!” I respond, “How’d you do it?”

And with the enthusiasm and detail that you would describe any of your schemes, you tell me. This was just another one of your curiosity-driven projects, another vision that you relentlessly pursued, and as you so often did, you figured it out.

The details of your efforts disappear as I open my eyes. I wake with a calm, but then the realization. I’m back in the world where death is death and you are gone.

It was just a dream. It felt so good to see you.