I dreamt of you just last night. You were there in my childhood home. You had a small blue car, one that I doubt you would even be able to get your legs in, and you had a box of clothes that you brought along. I remember I had nothing clean to put on but a pair of mismatched scrubs and my hair was dirty. This sounds vaguely like a nightmare doesn’t it? None of it mattered. I wrapped my arms around you and you held me so tight. You kissed me on the top of the head and then we sat together laughing about a stupid dream I had just had? At least you were there, if only in my dreams. It helped in such a way. It sounds so insignificant to others I’m sure. How can one stupid dream mean so much? I have no idea, but it did.