On Thursday night I was so completely drained. I had gone several days at that point focusing on everything else around me rather than continuing to picture my friend in his casket. I had woken up real early to travel around New Jersey for work, and when the sports talk radio bored me I listened to some music from the band Volbeat. They have a song dedicated to the lead singer's father, called "Fallen." Some of the lyrics in there brought forth some of the emotions I guess I was repressing. It is tough, 10 minutes before I arrive to a job site, to wipe away the remaining tears I have from this whole situation. After a long day at work I went home and was almost asleep by dinner time. I was quite the curmudgeon before I finally shut my eyes at a very early 9 p.m. What Was going to happen during my sleep I would have never guessed.
I don't know how long it was, but that's the thing about dreams. I don't know why they happen or if there is really any meaning behind them. So, I had a dream where my friend came back as an apparition, as a "ghost" of sorts. I don't remember where I was when I discovered him, but all I know is I was walking through some hallway, approaching a stair case. And he was at the top. I always imagined if I could somehow bring him back to just give him one more diatribe from me I would make sure he knew how bad this would hurt the people he loved more than he could ever understand. Instead, when I saw him, in his funeral outfit with a light yellow haze around him, I ran up the stairs. He appeared just like how the spirits of Luke Skywalker's fallen mentors would in the Star Wars films. Cheesy, I know, but hey it was my friend. And he could react to seeing me.
I ran up the stairs, and we extended our hands out for that quick handshake pull-you-into-a-hug thing we have always done. Only difference was this time my hand passed through his and I collapsed through his image, crashing into a wall. He turned around and said "Sorry man, but this is who I am now." I looked at his eyes, remembering how I wish they were open one last time so I could speak directly into them and let him know it wasn't worth it, but I was so glad to see him. All I could muster up was a "I'm glad to see you man."
I don't exactly remember everything we did, but whatever else I was supposed to do that day was no where near as important as spending time with him. I got to hear him laugh. One of my goals whenever I would hang out with him was to make him laugh so hard he would be squinting his eyes. He actually slapped his knees at a knee slapping moment. It almost felt like he sought me out, and this moment was for us. I think that much like in the Star Wars movies, he would pop up frequently. However, our day was approaching midnight, and then he broke the bad news to me. I can still hear the words from the dream...
"Duba, I hate to do this to you, but I have to leave you now. I know I have already 'left', but I have to move on. I don't know if I can ever come back or if I will ever see you again."
Then, I finally got mad. I laid into him. The worst part was it made no difference. It couldn't. Even though the positive feelings and outlooks I tried to provide him when he was alive made no difference, he could actually look at me, in his apparition form and I could see the regret in his eyes. I screamed at him that this could be an every day thing after we (me and all of his other friends/family) helped you get up and over your internal turmoil. I was yelling the question "Why couldn't you wait it out?!!" As I got madder and madder he slowly closed his eyes...the energetic glow around his spirit began to fade, and he was lost in the dust. I knelt down, angry, and then realizing that after I got to finally say my piece to him, he still wasn't around. There was dust left on the ground that stood under the fake image of his feet. I picked some up to remember him by and left. I went home, put the dust in a vial, and laid down next to my girlfriend and began to tell her of my day, and I eventually fell asleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night, rolled over to look at the clock and saw that it was 3:00 a.m. I realized that I was awake for real, and no longer dreaming. I got up and looked around, hoping to see if any of that dream was real, but I realized I was in a Z-quil induced stupor as I stumbled around. I could not go back to sleep. The thought he was right in front of me in that dream spooked me. The angry things I said to him do not make me feel better. Having the opportunity to be able to express these thoughts - the want to tell him it was irresponsible, selfish thing to do to his family, and the most hurtful thing anybody has ever done to me - did not make me feel any better. NONE of these things would replace him.
Do not get me wrong, I would love the chance to still let him know these feelings, but I would also be quick to tell him how those emotions are quickly replaced with sadness. I have been trying to memorialize him in my other forum. I had some fantastic memories with him. Unfortunately I can only see through the keyhole of the room that they are all stored in. At least I found that room. My vision of who he was for the first 32 years of his life are replaced with the last two times I saw him. It is rough, and I know the anguish and pain he kept inside was there all along, but when he started to wear it, it has made it very difficult to remember who he was before it came to the surface. The worst part of this to me is knowing that deep down he always had the potential to think so little of himself to actually pull this off. To actually one day go through with the unthinkable. There isn't one memory I can see through that keyhole where I don't look away because the image of him in a casket is plastered everywhere else in my mind.
This one was not easy to write for me, but through reading and rereading my own words, I realize that I am feeling a little better. I certainly lost something one month ago when I heard the news. It was more than a friend. At least I am starting to find the memories again.
Thanks for reading.
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