And in this dream I had a dream…

It is a crisp, clean and warm Spring day.  No clouds mar the amazingly blue East Texas sky.  Marvin and I are wearing t-shirts and shorts because we can; in another month the heat and humidity will demand it.

We have left his house and are now driving down a quiet, country road in his rather large convertible.  Rich, a friend of his, is working outside his house as we pass and Marvin calls to him, though not stopping.  Thirty seconds or so later I interrupt the still talking Marvin to ask him why he is, in fact, still talking.  It is obvious Rich can no longer hear him.

In an instant I know the reality of my situation.  I know I am dreaming and that knowledge alone should have awakened me, yet I am still in the dream.  So I ask him.  A little angry and more than a little sad, I ask him why he chose to leave his wife and one month-old son for a useless trip to Louisiana.  I ask him why he chose not to stay overnight and come back in the morning.

I ask him why he died that night twenty-three years ago.

That, at least, is what I intended to ask Marvin, my best friend from high school.  But I was so overcome with emotion that I only managed a single “why” before the dream fragmented and was gone.  I awoke with lingering sadness and sense of loss not only for my friend, but I felt I had missed an opportunity for discovery, or maybe closure.

It would be a while before I realized I was still dreaming.

One Reply to “Marvin”

  1. Reblogged this on pixelated texan and commented:

    I think of Marvin often even though he’s been gone for 31 years now. As I reread this 9-year-old entry I re-dreamed it as well. Of all the memories I have of Marvin, this is the only one that makes me sad.


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