I want so badly to hold her again, to hear her voice, to feel that sweet, vibrant connection that sisters have. In my dreams I do. I always get to see Laura in my dreams, and we can laugh and talk and walk together. Even sleeping, I know something has changed, that her existence has changed.
Dreams are a special place where she's dead but not gone, where death is not finite and not that big of a deal.
I love these dreams because I get to see my sister again and she's okay. She's happy and peaceful and smiling her dimpled smile. But I also dread them because when I wake up, things feel strange, like this reality isn't the right one. I feel heavy but also peaceful, or maybe it's acceptance that I'm feeling.
Last night, she and I walked through a maze of performers and temples, my arm slung over her shoulder, since she's just the right height for me to do that. We weaved as we walked, struggling to sync up our steps and find a straight line of travel.
"You're walking crooked, Laura!" I said.
She looked at me with a knowing smile.
"No, that's you walking crooked," she giggled.
I woke up with that heaviness again, made myself hot water with apple cider vinegar and honey, lit a candle, and pulled out my laptop to write. Sometimes there's nothing to do but sit with it.