I dream and when I dream, you are sometimes there.
You did not die.
Instead we talk of how scared we were that you would not make it through.
How it was a terrible time for all of us
But now things are back to normal.

It seems right and not strange at all that you are part of things as ever you were.
But this is a dream, though I do not know it,
I never do.
Only when I wake, does all the sense turn to nonsense
You did die. I did lose you.

But I grasp the notion that these dreams are perhaps a way of telling me that somehow you do survive.
And somewhere round the corner just ahead and out of view, you are.
One day dreams will be and I shall wake from waking.