Did you visit me in my sleep?
I dreamed we met up: I visited you in the hole, you let me.
A cop led you down the hall and to the booth
And you would not meet my eye, even in the depths of my subconsciousness.
You were despondent, distant.
But through that, I could feel the anger emanating from where you sat on the other side of the glass.
You were filled with anger.
Not at me, but at the situation itself. Maybe it was anger aimed toward other people, maybe it was anger aimed toward yourself.
You lifted the phone eventually, and I held mine, but neither of us spoke a word.
I remembered that dream today, how vivid it was, how I woke up a month ago now thinking I had actually visited you in jail several states away.
In fact, I was positive that I had visited you in jail in order to cheer you up. It felt so real.
After I woke it took me a while to remember that you had died just a few weeks ago.
And today after I retold this dream to a woman, she swore I described an otherworldly visitation.
I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you!
How many times must I profess it?
You did fine, and you’re doing fine wherever you are now.
You’re where you’re supposed to be, and everything is okay.
I promise, I promise, I promise.
I’m a skeptic through and through
But apparently not when it comes to you.
Do you enjoy being such an enigma?