I slept last night. Slept a deep, uninterrupted sleep I haven’t had in, I don’t know, weeks? It seems even longer. For the last weeks or months I do go to bed every night, and I do sleep, but most often I only sleep an hour here, two hours there, so a full eight and a half hours? I feel amazing. I felt amazing, anyway.
I don’t recall any dreams last night. Wait, that’s not true – I dreamed I was whitewater rafting, I can remember that. Nothing weird, though – none of THOSE dreams. I woke up to slate grey clouds and Wendy sleeping next to me, and I’ll admit, I could have cried I was so happy, I felt so refreshed. I had breakfast, was able to taste my coffee, I didn’t feel like a zombie as I was getting ready for work. That might not sound like much, but after weeks of this insanity, it’s hard to put into words how great it felt. For a short, painfully short time, I forgot about this damned ‘family legacy’. Obviously that couldn’t last.
I was walking to work, through the East Side of Providence, as usual. There is a distinct autumn chill in the air, but not yet the biting cold of a Providence winter. It wasn’t unpleasant, but moved me along my path more quickly, unconsciously trying to avoid the chill that was creeping through my light jacket. I heard whispers initially, not the hum – I thought it was the wind passing through fallen leaves at first. It became more rhythmic as I walked, until it was unmistakably the whispered chants I have heard so many times in my dreams. My hands started shaking immediately and the chill in the air seemed to intensify as the whispers got louder. I immediately started looking around, even though I told myself I would not, and finally saw him, passing slowly through an autumn-hued hedge. With shaking hands I tried to snap a few images before he moved away.
I think he is the soldier from my dreams. He had a similar form, similar clothing, and there was no face. There was just a familiarity there, and I can’t prove it (Ha! Can I prove any of this?) but I just feel like it was him visiting me, though I have no idea why. I fear if I knew the reasons, it wouldn’t be of any comfort anyway. I do know that if he was just a lingering fragment of dream, I couldn’t have taken a picture of him here, so there was someone, or something, lurking there, reaching out to me.