I dreamed about my grandma last night.  I dreamed I got a phone call from her, and it was weird.  Because in the dream, as in real life, grandma was dead.  I was very confused; how could grandma call me when she is dead?

I took the call, because it was so important to find out the why and the how.  But the connection was so bad.  I could barely hear her.

It was her, it was her voice – and not her voice that I remember from childhood, but her voice as I remember from near the end.

And it was hard.  It was so hard.

I couldn’t hear her.

I couldn’t tell what she was saying.

It was just her voice; plain, everyday, as if nothing had changed.

 

 

Some nights I wish I didn’t sleep any more.