The String That Still Follows

I dreamt of Vic last night.

We were in a house — not one I know in real life, but one that felt safe, familiar, almost like a place between here and somewhere softer. He was already sick, but calm. He walked toward the carport, heading to his car.

From behind, I called out to him,

“I took your car for a service the other day, but they didn’t have time to wash and vacuum it.”

He turned slightly, looked back, and nodded. Quietly. Gently. The way he always did when words weren’t needed.

The scene shifted.
I was suddenly awake within the dream, walking into the living room. The carport was empty — his car gone. I just stood there, looking out, waiting — or maybe remembering.

Then came another scene.
I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around him. I asked softly,

“If it were possible… could we get back together?”

He looked at me tenderly and asked,

“Why do you like me so much?”

And I answered without thinking,

“Because you’re my rock. You’re kind. You were always there for me.”

That’s when I woke.
The clock read 6:25 a.m. — the first light of morning just starting to soften the edges of the world.

Reflections

This dream came after I’d taken his car for servicing over the weekend — and today, I’m taking it back for its wash and clean.
It feels as if the dream followed the car.
As if he’s still travelling with us.
As if the string between us is still there.

The car feels more than just an object now — it’s something alive with his trace. Every time I touch it, drive it, or care for it, I feel like I’m tending to something that still belongs to both of us.

In the dream, his quiet nod said what words couldn’t: he knows I’m still looking after what mattered to him.
And when he asked, “Why do you like me so much?” it wasn’t doubt — it was an invitation to remember the truth beneath all the grief: because love like that doesn’t disappear. It simply changes shape.

Maybe the car was just a symbol — a vessel carrying the invisible thread that still connects us.
And maybe that’s what he wanted to show me: that the journeys we began together haven’t truly ended. They just continue differently now — across worlds, across dreams, across the small acts of care that keep his memory alive.

✨ Some strings never break. They just learn new ways to follow.

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