And while the nightmare has mostly faded, I remember the overall theme and plot points.
In this messed up dream, my cat died. Through the witchcraft we can summon in our dreams, I brought him back to life. I willed him back to life unable to accept another loss. I think Jonesy came back more in a zombie-esque state but its hard to say in the fuzzy distant memories.
But really, today, I can’t stop thinking about the ending of a book I read recently.
It only clicked as to why that is during the late afternoon and I felt the threat of tears tug as I drove down our street. Where I am, we’re still wearing t-shirts and the trees haven’t completely abandoned their leaves.
I miss my dog. It’s been two years and last night, I went to bed still feeling her absence. My heart was too heavy to even pray and wish for some comfort. I was told people get a once in a lifetime dog. She was it. I find myself clinging closer to what I have now as if I could have any say when they may go.
I think about this book, Tiger Pelt by Annabelle Kim. I know I’m thinking about my dog. I know the book was much bigger, heavier than any of my griefs and yet I do find some comfort in the words today. I don’t think my grief has to match the story’s to feel that.
In the end, the main character revisits his homeland Korea after immigrating to America decades earlier. Feeling a sense of peace and joy at seeing his country prosperous, he dreams of his little brother who…
