Restoration Comedy

Dearest Rachel –

I’ve been told that, in classical literature, a tragedy is a tale where virtually everyone winds up dead, while in a comedy, everyone ends up married, so I figured I was dealing with the latter in last night’s dream. To be sure, the only ones that ended up so were you and I – and given the circumstances, that was just a reaffirmation of the bond that already existed, but let’s set that aside for the moment.

For now, I need to mention that, like with so many dreams I remember long enough to tell you about, it all seemed incredibly real, until I start telling you about it, and all the ridiculously improbable – and ultimately impossible – things start popping up in the narrative, and I find myself wondering how the bubble didn’t burst so long before.

I don’t even recall what prompted me to go outside and check on you and where you were buried in the backyard – and it wasn’t in a particularly deep hole, as if I were to go down too far, I’d likely have hit a power line or a sewer pipe, and have been in a right mess – but yours wasn’t even the only body buried there. Daniel’s child self – of probably eight or ten years of age – had his own niche back there as well, as did my more, ah, rotund carcass. Interestingly, despite being theoretically fresher in terms of when I left it behind (and let’s face it, I’m still in the process of shedding it, as I’ve kept updating you on the process), my body was the one in the most advanced state of decay, having melted a bit due to exposure to the summer heat of the past couple of years. Strangely enough, there wasn’t much of a smell to any of these. In any event, I didn’t think much of any of this at the time, for some reason; this was all perfectly normal to my dream self!

And again, I don’t know what it was that brought me out to check on you, but there I was, looking at you, and realizing that you weren’t lying in the position you had been set down into the ground. Rather, you were on your side, as if you had shifted in your sleep. I knelt down to get a closer look at you, and was startled to see that your lips were moving, ever so slightly.

“You’re… you’re alive!” I exclaimed, stating the obvious in wonder, as your head shifted in a nearly imperceptible nod. Your eyes opened, and your lips moved again, this time with just enough breath to allow yourself to be heard.

“help… me…”

Well, you didn’t need to tell me twice. I reached down and pulled you out with both arms, in a standard bridal carry, and yelled for Daniel to let me in through the door by the family room. I didn’t bother to explain – I assumed it would be obvious to him as to what was happening – as I ran inside and got you upstairs to the bathtub to wash the dirt and whatever else off of you. I told myself I would get food for you once you were settled and comfortable.

It was all I could do to hold back the flood of questions as to how you had been restored to us. After all, you had been there for over four years, now. “Yes,” you smiled faintly, “that was pretty rude of you to ignore me all this time.” I tried to defend myself about how we just don’t use the backyard that much, especially since it’s become something of a graveyard for us in any event, but it was clear that you were just teasing me about it, and bore me no ill will. However, you weren’t forthcoming with any explanations about where you’d been (assuming that your spirit had ever been anywhere but connected to what was left of your body, which, aside from being pretty much as I remembered it, was taller, or maybe just thinner, due to a lack of sustenance) and what you’d seen. Had you even been to the afterlife, or had you just been soundly asleep for so long, in a restorative stasis? You couldn’t – or in any event, wouldn’t – say.

Instead, you asked me about what had been going on in your absence, and I told you that would take a while, but at least, I’d written much of it down. I did admit with some embarrassment that I’d gotten rid of much of your stuff, under the assumption that you were no longer alive to use any of it; your face darkened at that, but softened as I told you that the kitchen and laundry rooms had been remodeled, and in any event, we could amass a new wardrobe for you over time, as we should be able to afford it.

I also told you about the ring I’d had made from your ashes, and went to fetch it to show you. Even as I did so, I could feel everything around me starting to slowly work itself apart; it was like an earthquake, but in sufficiently slow motion that I didn’t feel like I was losing my footing or that anything was about to fall down on me. It was just like pieces of reality were disappearing as I brought two different realities – your now-living body, and the product of your cremains – into proximity.

Even as you looked at it and admired it – and I told you the rest were to be scattered into the lake on your upcoming fifty-fifth birthday – I could see that you were aware of the contradiction, and its effects on the reality we were inhabiting at the moment, and your face slowly drained of color. This could not be, and we would have to part. For a moment, you smiled at it, and me; “It’s beautiful.”

And then, you were gone – as was the entire dreamscape. It should have disappeared as I was crossing the backyard, to be honest, but at least you were able to present yourself to me for this brief moment once again. I wish it could have been under more stable circumstances, but these are what we’re left with for now.

In any event, wherever you might be at the moment, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.