This is the eighth in a series of autobiographical short stories by author Rita Antoinette Borg, collectively titled A Funny Thing Happened to Me….

A funny thing happened to me as I had been having peculiar dreams for a big chunk of this year. The funniest thing about it is that it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all. My heart knows I should be writing stories about comic non-fiction, but this is too meaningful not to share.  This plucked at my heartstrings.

Life is a mixture of the good and the bad and the happy and sad. Let’s look into emotions, memories, dreams, love, and death.

I had a dream. I had many dreams, in fact. I had night-after-night dreams of this man, who I once knew. He was once a teenager, a friend, who was in my English literature class a long time ago while in 6th form in the years between 1978-80.

For the first six months of this year, 2022, he was constantly popping in and out of my dreams. Often he smiled. Always I smiled back at him in my dreams.  I first noticed it in January 2022.  After many weeks of dreaming of him, I asked him,

“Hi There! I haven’t seen you for ages. So wonderful to see you. What are you doing here? What are you doing in my dreams?”

He smiled, pushed up his glasses and poof! disappeared.

Every night I encountered him. I wondered why he was in my dreams!

In April, I spoke to him. I asked, “Hi! Do you need something from me? The last time I saw you was at that children’s occasion. You were surrounded by your friends; but I plucked enough courage to walk over to you to say ‘HI!’ Remember?”

He nodded.

Way back in the late 70s, we were teenagers. You often made me laugh since I cried so often.  I never took you seriously enough. And I am so sorry for that.

I had utterly horrible habits which you told me to stop doing.  At my 18th birthday party, you arrived first, way, way before the other guests. I let you burrow my most prized possession at the time –my pink bike with the white flower basket. You rode it like a drunken clown along my street. Oh! How I laughed.

Now, for the past six months, you have constantly entered my dreams

I’ll never forget that day, now even more so. But you weren’t the one I had a deep crush on. I was so silly back then. I had so many dreams that would never come true. And you warned me, but I didn’t listen to you. You knew each step of your life and how it was supposed to go; I only wanted unplanned adventures.

Now, for the past six months, you have constantly entered my dreams. You rode elephants with me, climbed hills in Central Park with me, swam with dolphins and whales in the ocean with me, built Noah’s Ark and collected the animals with me and even washed cars with me.

Then, just about three weeks before I found out what I found out, you talked to me. It was so weird. The dreams were so real. You were trying to tell me something. I had to find out what it was. This was important; I felt it deep in my soul.

One evening, it struck me that with Facebook, I can look you up.

I wish I hadn’t after I found out.

I looked you up. I found your smiling face. Memories filled my whole being. You looked safe and happy. I was so glad, so happy for you until I was not.

You died. Facebook said you died. I know the day you died.

On Facebook, your beautiful wife thanks all the people who sent amazing words about you, her wonderful husband. You deserve every one of them.

I cried. The dreams have stopped now.

Now, I understand the dreams. You were telling me goodbye. So sweet of you. Always so sweet.

It’s funny how we let people go. It’s funny how true the saying “only the good die young” is. Pray for me, old friend, as I know you are in a good place. Pray for me. One day perhaps we’ll meet again. I’ll try to get my pink bike with the white flower basket. Thank you for letting me know.

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