Rehab – Day Eight
I need to pull myself together. Of course, my whispered plea that I would dream of him wedged itself into my subconscious and whaddya know? The start was a bit confused: trying to establish if the dreams I had where he comes back and isn’t dead, were dreams or reality. When my subconscious decided they were in fact real, there he was. But dreams are not real. And I know he is dead. I know he is dead. That’s a fact. I was at the funeral. I watched the coffin going down. So I need to lock that back up. I have to stop thinking about him.