In the early weeks after Colin died I couldn’t dream. It was probably the drugs I was taking to get to sleep but every night I would go to bed hoping to see him again. Then I had a really vivid dream where I was in a house surrounded by friends but I was frantic because I had to call Colin. I had to speak to him but couldn’t find a phone. I hunted and hunted around this house but to no avail. Then I found the phone but it had no buttons on it so it was useless. I was devastated.
I then had another dream where he was with me and we were cuddling and happily chatting. As we chatted I said to him: ‘But you’re dead.’ He replied: ‘I know but it makes no difference.’ I was so happy and hugged him again and said: ‘If I had known it would be like this then I wouldn’t have been so scared when you died.’  He reaffirmed once again: ‘It’s still the same, isn’t it so easy?’.
And finally I have had one other dream. He is in a hospital bed and I am watching him. He is lying there and he looks alive and he is happy but I know I have to break the news to him that he is dead. Bizarre.
It is around this time on a Saturday in February that he lay on a pavement in South London with paramedics pumping his chest trying to revive him. Oh Saturday again.

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