An Inconvenient Destroying Syndrome

“The display is always vivid and abstract. It starts far away in a distance. At first it was completely unidentifiable, hazy, not a definite substance. But it stays in my mind. It doesn’t go away. I know it is just a dream, but I can’t wipe it out. What freak me out most are, what looks like the calling gestures - like cloudy arms, or perhaps, when it comes closer like huge undefined flapping wings. Do you think it is possible that I am seeing angels?” He tells it in a childlike manner. Slowly, as if he sees it while he describes it to me.
Shivers run through the length my body. A swift ice cold makes the hair in my neck and arms stand up.
“Shit. Louis, if clouds and wing and all these bullshit freak you out, I am tripping on meth right now. Just remember you’ve always had a fucking vivid imagination.” I show him the hairs on my arms still rose.
We clutched each other and giggle childish.
“Angel like. Hmm? This is weird, too fucking weird.” Is about all I can comment.
“If it really is angels, they’re probably here to come and get me.” He taunts me. “I’m okay Theard.”
“Well, I am not fucking okay. Tell your angel friends to retreat and fuck off. They are not welcome. I am not ready….. I am not ready for them yet”
I try to pretend at least as if I am taking his visions lightly, but cannot disregard the dreams. I read up some article on the internet about how to cope and what to expect with the dying process. Bang!! Spot on as from the article I read – visions and strange behavior can occur as early as up to four months before death. It just doesn’t feels possible to even slightly imagine a life without Louis in it.

“Don’t get so jittery, love. It is just a dream. I don’t mean to upset you.” Louis puts in a weak effort to calm me.
There is an uncomfortable silence. I don’t have words. I swallow and swallow, but the lump in my throat doesn’t wants to go down. It now has its own gesturing wings and fights back and wants to come out and wants Louis to see how weak I am and I swallow. My gulping down of the lump with wings fails and Louis speaks.
“You’re just gonna be fine, you’ll see. Don’t fight it so hard Theard. Let it out. You have to. I am okay. We both know I am dying, love. That is how it is. There is absolutely nothing we can do about it.” He pulls me nearer and holds me close to him. The lump wants to come out, now. I gulp loud and it feels like I am the dying one. Louis comforts me.