I dreamed in french last night.
‘tu parle français?’ I asked the dream stranger.
And then, immediately embarrassed, I changed the question to the more formal ‘vous parlez francais?’
The accent came from the back of my throat, like a soft purr, and I felt a subconscious sadness for a life I once lived.
This stranger in my dream, he was the only unknown. Like most dreams, this was peppered with people from my past: a boy who broke my heart, another who treated it like junk. We mended old wounds, apologized and were happy in a way that gives all heartache a little more closure.
And right now, that’ll have to do. So rarely do we ever get the closure we need.