The Reoccurring Dream

It wasn’t Halloween, but that didn’t matter. They were throwing candy from those big red fire trucks anyway. There was a huge crowd gathered around the fire trucks. Everyone was happy… I mean, why wouldn’t they be? It was a dream come true: being rained on by candy. All types of candy fell from the sky. I reached up to grab a piece, but it turned to rain as I caught it. It was pouring. The crowd slowly dissolved into a lonely forest covered in fog so deep it was like a blank piece of paper. The fire trucks had faded too; lost without a trace. And then there was me, and just me, alone in the forest with my arms reached for the sky.
It wasn’t until I started moving that I realized I was soaking wet. I was dripping with a mix of tears and rain–because life doesn’t make sense, because life has no meaning, no purpose, no reason. So my tears fell from my eyes like acid rain, slowly burning down my face and then cascading to the ground.
I can still see his face in others. I can smell him. He’s here, he has to be. But make-believe is weak to reality, and reality came crashing down like a wave in a tsunami: he was dead. He is dead, and there is nothing that can change that. No cure, no vaccine, no remedy could save him. No love, no hate, no guilt would bring him back. He’s in the air. He’s everything and yet nothing all at once. He’s still in my memories and in my dreams. But I can’t live like this. I looked down to find a gun in my hand. There was bang that no one was around to here. A flash of color so bright it put the sun to shame.
Then there was me and him, in a crowd of people, reaching up for candy. We were both smiling and so happy. Why shouldn’t we be? Everything was perfect.