For the first time since her death last year, I dreamed of my grandmother.
My dream began as a chaotic hodgepodge of images and nonsensical happenings, as my dreams tend towards. I believe I was playing musical chairs with high school acquaintances who began to disintegrate into zombies when they couldn’t find a chair. While I distinctly remember thinking, “How fun this game is”, it also didn’t seem entirely pleasant, so I left the room.
In the next room, I saw my two grandmothers, one living and one passed away, sitting together at a table and drinking tea. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s conversation and company when I arrived. Excited to see them again, I called to them and addressed them both as “Popo”. For a moment, the chaos of the dream faded away. I gave my living grandmother an enthusiastic hug, then one for my father’s mother, who passed on last spring. She looked like the grandmother I knew, except with thick, black hair. Then I flitted off into another part of my dream, and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared.
When I described this dream to my parents, they said the same thing: “Oh! She’s getting younger again!” It was nice to see my grandmother again. It was like she had stopped by to say hello to me, and to show me that she’s doing well.