Dreams of Death 

I dreamt of death. 

Now, I am afraid of death. For reasons we all are. 

My dreams of death tell me that I don’t tell people what I should when they are alive. A characteristic of myself that shocks me. 

Imagine loving.  

Loving someone so deeply and truly that you are one. Where they go, you ARE, even if you actually aren’t. What they feel, you feel, even more intensely. 

Imagine losing them. PERMANENTLY. 

What will life mean to you now? You have to make sense out of life without them. See life through different eyes. 

How many times do we see someone before they die? How many times are they in our faces? How many times do we act like they didn’t matter? Or like we had more important things to focus on instead of them? How many times do we ignore their calls? 

Why do we ignore people at all?

Would their life be different in someway had we told them what they meant to us? 

Would our lives be different? 🤔

Rest In Peace, April. I love you. 

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