The Pattern He Sees

I dreamt of Vic tonight — my third dream of him since his passing.

We were away on holiday, staying in a house by the beach. The light was soft, the air still. Kenzo was there too, getting ready to head down to the shore with his dad.

I walked into the room and said, almost instinctively,

“I asked for copies of your photos with Kenzo — just copies, not to take them all — but your family refused.”

Without looking up as he helped Kenzo get ready, he replied quietly,

“The photos are in safe hands.”

Frustration rose in me.

“I know they’re in safe hands, but I just wanted copies. Why are they making it so hard for me? Kenzo needs to remember you now, not when he’s eighteen. By then, he might not remember you as much.”

He paused, then said gently,

“I know what you wanted to do with the photos. I see the pattern you’re creating. I appreciate it.”

And somehow, those words softened everything.

The dream shifted.
I was walking from the house toward the water. To my right, I caught a glimpse of his parents, sister, and a child — all laughing together. I turned away and walked left instead, down toward the sound of waves.

There, by the shore, Vic and Kenzo were sitting in their swim gear, eating toast. Plain toast. I noticed mould on Kenzo’s slice and looked at Vic.
He said calmly,

“Can you get another one for him from the house?”

I asked, “Just for him? What about you?”
Before he could answer, the dream began to fade.

When I woke, faint music was still playing from Kenzo’s room — the same gentle lullaby I’d forgotten to switch off after he fell asleep. The clock read 1:20 a.m.

Reflections

This dream lingered — tender, quiet, and strangely clear.
The beach felt like a space between worlds, where memory meets spirit, and love moves freely.

The conversation about the photos felt like more than words.
It was Vic’s way of telling me he sees what I’m trying to do — how every small act of remembrance is a thread in a larger pattern of love I’m weaving for Kenzo.
And he appreciates it.

The toast — simple, imperfect — felt like a reminder that nurturing Kenzo is what truly matters now. That Vic trusts me to keep feeding him the love and memory that will sustain him long after these dreams fade.

I walked away from his family in the dream, just as I have in life — not from resentment, but from clarity. My path forward is my own, led by love, not conflict.

✨ He may be gone from this world, but he still sees the pattern — and the love — I’m creating for our son. And in that quiet knowing, I find peace.

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