Letter twelve - Day Sixteen of your vacation

Dearest J,

I dreamed of you last night. First dream of you since you left.

Lying on a small flimsy bed, you seemed to have gone to the dentist and had a bloody cotton in your mouth. I looked up close, you weren't in pain, you had some food in your mouth...and looked like a bloody cotton. I sat there next to you and we talked like we were the only people in a room full of people, without a care.

I woke up eventually.

Peter sang the song Being Alive (Stephen Sondheim) last week at Rainbow Massacre. He dedicated the performance to us.

Shall dedicate my alive-ness to singing more meaningful music theatre songs, to reflect the meaning of our lives together.

One day at a time.

Now it's time to get up and get out to my dance class...and work those limps.

I rarely dreamed of you previously, I hope to see you in my dreams more.

Big hug.

Love,

B