When Dreams Feel Like Visits

Dear Vic,

I dreamed of you last night — my second dream of you in a long time. You were driving me to work, with Kenzo sitting quietly in the back seat. It wasn’t my real workplace, but somewhere unfamiliar, like an in-between place where time doesn’t quite exist. We were talking about small things, the kind of simple, everyday conversations that I miss the most.

I asked you to pull over somewhere safe so I could play the K-pop song that Kenzo sang. You took my phone gently, listening as if it meant something. Then you and Kenzo walked down a few steps into a karaoke shop, each holding a microphone — as though preparing for one last duet together.

I remember telling you, “Your brother cleaned out all your gaming toys - did you know that?” You nodded. Then I said, “I’m going to clean up your house this weekend.” Again, you nodded. So calm. So quiet.

I wanted to stop you before you left, to beg you, “Please don’t go to the hospital again. Please stay.”
But the words never came.

And then I woke up — right as the alarm went off.

Maybe that was your way of saying goodbye again. Or maybe it wasn’t goodbye at all — maybe it was just your way of visiting, reminding me that somewhere, somehow, you’re still close.

— N



Reflections

In this dream, Vic was driving — leading the way, just as he always did.
It felt like a passage between worlds, where love still finds a way to move freely, unbound by time or distance.

Perhaps that’s what these dreams are: not farewells, but gentle reminders.
That even in different realms, we still share the same road — he, Kenzo, and I — journeying together in quiet understanding.

✨ The drive may have ended, but love keeps steering us home.

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