Night Visit

Most of the time, I can let dreams go, no matter the subject matter. However, probably due to the nature of the dream I had last night, I can not get it out of my head. It was one of those dreams that feel so real that you feel like you need to call the other person to make sure they are ok or inquire if they dreamed it too and perhaps it wasn’t a dream after all. Luckily, I am sure this dream was in fact a dream, and most of the time, I don’t put any stock in dreams—at least outside the subconscious mind crap. Nor do I think this dream means anything either, but I can’t quite shake it, so I thought maybe if I share it, it would flitter away. The names have been changed as the people in the dream are ones most of us know and love.
Characters: Me, Brandon, I have not be changed, obviously
Dean
Shane—Dean and Shane are boyfriends
Chris—Chris is Dean’s best friend
The dream starts with Shane and me in one hotel room and Dean and Chris in another. Even though the dream has just started, I am aware and filled in on all the details leading up to this moment. Dean has been upset about his age, although we are all the same age we are now. He is also sick, that is one of the details that has left me since waking. I think he had some type of cancer in the dream, but I don’t quite recall. Either way, the disease has not yet begun to make him overtly sick (and no, it wasn’t HIV, there wasn’t any emotion around the sickness, it was familiar, and I am nearly pen-pals with cancer). The four of us all know we are there to be with Dean as he commits suicide. (Told you this was troubling to me…)
Anyway, somehow the hotel room Shane and I are in is directly across from the hotel room of Dean and Chris. We are on one of the upper floors of the hotel. There is a little breezeway or sidewalk between the two, but no more than eight to ten feet. It is night out. Both rooms have huge, full wall windows that face each other. Shane and I stand pressed against our window, holding hands, staring at Dean who is standing at the other window, smiling sadly at us. Chris is behind him, head down, dreading what he has to do. No words are exchanged; everything is said through our eyes. You can physically feel and almost hear the unspoken “good-byes” and “I love you’s.”
After what seems like an eternity and countless, wordless conversations back and forth between the windows, Dean acknowledges that it is time, and Chris reaches over and draws the dark curtain, shutting off our view. Even though Shane and I can’t see through the curtain, we know what’s going on. In the dream, we somehow see the events of the other room in our minds. Chris stands aside and Dean stand up on a chair, slips a noose over his head and then the chair is gone and Dean hangs himself. We can’t see in our minds what happens next, but we wait, because we know the plan we spoke of before. We know that Chris waits until he is sure it’s over, then removes the noose from Dean’s neck and places him at the window once more. Moving beside the window so he won’t be seen, Chris slowly pulls the curtain, uncovering the window once more.
The dream zooms up on Dean’s torso. His eyes are blank, there is a limp half smile on his face, and his skin in pale and clammy looking. Shane and I continue to hold hands and draw closer to each other as we stare at Dean’s lifeless face, wishing we could remember him only as he was before as he said goodbye at the window instead of how he is now. Somewhere out of sight, Chris draws the curtain shut again, ending our last view of Dean.
Shane and I quietly try to sooth one another and fall asleep.
I wake up.