My knees buckled.  "You’re dead! How did you get here?"

Nonchalantly, as if this happened on a daily basis, "SheBear I came back to you, it was horrible there and very boring"

"Drew, its impossible.  You died.  I have to be dreaming.  Why are you here?"

"You’re not dreaming SheBear, I’ve come to make you a Mommy again.  Kiera is with me"

He moves out the way, and right behind him stands a little girl with red hair and blue eyes clutching onto the teddy bear that I had given her four years previously, a teddy bear that at that moment was safely locked away in a cupboard nowhere near here.  "Heyo Mommy – I mithed you"

I jump off the bed and back away, Andrew, my dead boyfriend, is standing in front of me holding my dead daughters hand, and smiling. 

Suddenly, way before I even wanted them to, they fade away and I open my eyes to the sound of thumping floor boards above me.

I’m not sure if it was a dream or a nightmare.  I’m still cold inside.  All I do know, is that it left me with goosebumps on my arms and a smile on my lips.

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PS: Today will be my last blog post for a while. At least a week. Don’t you fuckers forget me, you hear? I will be taking a little break (unwillingly – see bitch about laptop issues earlier this week) so don’t be shy about your visitations while I’m gone. It’s weird to think the next time I will be writing will be in Cape Town.

…………..

Okay, I realise that there is no link there. I can’t find it. I wrote a post about this a while ago, but may have deleted it. But lets face it, you probably weren’t going to click it anyway, were you? So I’ll just give you the run down.

I met someone. Ages ago. Not in person, online. I always swore I would never let myself fall for that, but he was different. He didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, he was real. But also, very secretive.

It took ages for me to even know his name. And only when he got really drunk one night, did he allow me to ask him personal questions. Despite chatting for months, I never got his number. I gave him mine, but he didn’t want me to know his until he was on his way here in a plane. Yes, thats right, we agreed to meet in person. Without me even having his telephone number or hearing his voice or having any form of contact with him other than words on this screen of mine.

But he was different. He got to me in a way no one else has in a very, very long time.

A day after my birthday, in August, we were having a normal chat, and he had to go. His last words were “Chat tomorrow”. That was over two months ago. It went from a daily occurance to nothing without any explanation, fight, or disagreement. Hell, he hadn’t even seen my hairy legs so I can’t even blame it on that.

Until this morning, while I’m chomping on scrambled eggs, an email pops up, from him. I nearly choked. His name has changed (for work) and he still has no explanation, other than ‘its been a busy couple of months’.

I don’t want advice. I don’t want you to tell me what to do. What I do want is for you to tell me that I’m not crazy in thinking that he is still worth sticking around for.

What for, I don’t exactly know, its not like I want a relationship from the guy, he lives in Cape town for fuck sakes. But I do know that he spices up my life.

And I also know that I’m a pussy, because I should tell him to fuck himself and his ‘busy months’.
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Yes, I know there is a link now. I found the goddam post, ok?