another dream. another gift.

I had this dream last night.

That Michael was fine. But in the hospital.

And on a Monday, he was going to die. Because the hospital people had given up.

I was in the hospital lobby.

And Michael's surgeon came up to me to say he was sorry.

I called him Michael's first cardiologist's name. I couldn't remember his. In this dream.

He corrected me.

I ignored him and kept calling him the other guy's name.

I pleaded with him to give my son a chance.

To perform a transplant. He backed away. He said there was nothing he could do.

I was persistent. I followed him. Crying.

He changed his mind. He said he would do it.

I called him the wrong name again.

He left to prepare for surgery.

I went back to a waiting room. Filled with people.

And my Michael. Who was dressed in his sweet black hoodie. College shirt. Khakis and only socks. [The clothes he was buried in.]

We hugged. And I smelled him.

He was mystified at my jubilation at seeing him.

He gave me his "you are being weird, mom" look.

I said I hadn't seen him in so long. That I missed him.

And he said I was here all along.

I woke up at that moment. Tears on my cheeks.

And my first thought was that I wanted to tell him about my dream.

It was so real.