Too Late To Say Goodbye

When I was little I often had these strange dreams...
They lasted for as long as I can remember and ended not too long ago. I don't know the reason for why they stopped, but I haven't had one since then.

I've kept these dreams in the back of my mind and never spoke of them until recently, when I finally realized who he was.

I'd go to bed and drift off into a transcendence of sleep that would hold me captive until he set me free. Little did he know, that freedom he gave me was my prison. Only when I was with him did I feel truly free. I don't blame him though; he didn't know, nor do I know if he'll ever.

In these dreams I'd wake to find myself lying in a vast field, looking up into a gray, cloudy sky that left me feeling this certain grief that made my heart twist. I would have to use every ounce of my being to knock myself out of the trance it had on me.

In the distance I'd see this large, dead tree with long, jagged branches that stretched out as if they were reaching or even yearning for something, surrounded by a large pasture of dead wheat that seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth. I always got this strong, desperate feeling that would intensify the more I looked at the tree; I felt connected to it in some way. It was too hard to resist and before I knew it; I would all of a sudden be running towards it, that desperate feeling growing stronger, larger with every step I took. The closer I got, the more that sorrowful feeling I felt earlier intensified.

That's when I would see him, a small boy who couldn't have been older than me. The more I approached him, the more this feeling of liberation and release would wash over me and soothe my pain. He had short brunette hair and hazel eyes that held a kindness and comfort that reminded me of home. He was wearing a plain navy green t-shirt and jeans that made me think of the ocean. He was the only thing that stuck out, that seemed warm in the cold, barren scenery that surrounded me. He just felt right, and when I finally stood face to face with him, he'd take my hand. Words can't even begin to describe how I would feel when he touched my hand at that moment in the dreams; I always looked forward to it. Feelings of love and warmth and peace would wash over me, and all those remaining fragments of grief and sorrow I still felt would dissipate. I felt complete, like he was this missing puzzle piece in my life that I needed to find to make me whole. Then he would smile at me and the dream would end.

I'd wake up in my bed, surrounded by the cruel darkness of midnight, and even though I knew it was just a dream it still felt so real. It felt like one of the lucid dreams people have, no matter how many times I had it. I would start going to bed earlier and earlier everyday that passed. I would even resort to praying every night with the hope that I would dream of him and be able to see him again.

No matter how or where I slept, the dream always happened and ended the same way. Him smiling at me, and then me waking up around midnight. Every time I awoke, there was always this one thought on my mind. A young, boyish voice, that seemed to say the word, "Luke."
I never knew what it meant... until recently.

I turned sixteen towards the end of July last month, and my parents have really begun to start opening up about things to me. Things such as: awkward experiences that they've had, what I was like when I was a baby... and my birth.

A few days ago we were going through some old baby pictures and I found my ultrasound photos. After a minute or two of analyzing one of the photos; I noticed something strange. Looking at the picture I recognized a pair of two little baby feet, which I had figured to be my own due to the absence of any sort of dangling organ between my legs. What struck me as strange was what I saw there hiding in the darkness, in the corner of the photo. Lurking behind what I assumed was one of my legs was what appeared to be an extra little foot. I asked my parents about it and that's when their attitudes changed completely. My mom seemed real sad all of a sudden and my dad was real quiet. I again asked what was wrong and my mom got really serious and explained everything to me.

In the photo there was not one, but two babies, twins... I was born one of two babies when my mom went into labor.

My mom explained to me that I had an older brother who was stillborn at birth and that I was born around an hour after him. I asked her what name she would have chose for him had he made it and she told me, "Luke." My whole world collapsed at that moment, I started crying and told my mom about my dreams. A whole lot of things make sense now and the one thing that always gets to me is the fact that the dreams stopped that exact day when I found out who he was. The fact that he's always been there for me, watching over me in my dreams at night is something that I will never forget. I now live my life to the fullest and pray to him everyday, saying things like "good morning" and "good night," stuff like that, my parents do the same. I'm not afraid to die anymore, for I know now that when I do; he'll be there waiting for me.

I guess if I've learned anything from this experience it's that life really is full of surprises. Also, that just because something sounds fake, like a ghost story, or a sighting of some urban myth or something, that doesn't mean it is. You gotta keep an open mind and maybe something amazing will happen to you too.