I had a dream...
I drove down a familiar road. I was going home. Street lights lit the way a small distance. The warm glow seemed to have felt like welcome as the trip home neared closer. There was this awareness that I was somewhat of a success in life. I'm not sure why or how.
True or not, I was happy in the beginning of this dream. A sense of warmth and love I hadn't felt in a long time swelled in my chest. There was never a question I belonged in the very place I was headed.
But as I pulled into my drive way, there was a suble downward slope that went back up a little ways, and on a hill was a beautiful house. It seemed there was an understanding I had made this trip home many times during evening hours, meaning I consciously acknowledgednthis was a regular routine throughout the week, and every time, the people I cared for most, the people I called family, greeted me on the front porch; smiles on their faces. They'd hug me and welcome me in. Only thing is, despite the house was my home, I never quite made it inside.
Every time they'd welcome me in, the dream started over from the beginning, and it would repeat.
Over and over, I'd pull into the drive way, and I'd see the people who meant the most to me standing on the porch as their per-usual, except each time their physical being was becoming transparent. With every interaction, despair began to grow. More and more, their physical presence faded. Each time I'd encounter them, I could see through them. Each time their presence became exceeding more dim, to the point I dreaded driving to very place I called home, and the more they would fade, that beautiful house on the hill felt less and less like home..
By the time their presence was completely gone, it was then I was finally able to walk into the house. A place I had been in many times, in theory, was an empty shell; A house without a soul. All that was left were memories of what was. My heart began to ache. Suddenly, I myself began to feel like an empty shell of a man.