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A Secret Trip to Villa Bella
September 26, 2010, Sunday
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NO matter what I did, that dream stayed with me. Each time I lay down, I'd almost immediately fall off to sleep, entering a dreamland where I'd soon see Graham.
"My love, tell me: where are you? How is it that you seem to disappear so suddenly?" I was crying in his embrace.
"I've already told you, but you mustn't come. I'm no longer myself."
"How could you not be yourself? Even if you've aged, you're ugly or blind or deaf or even dead, you'd still be you! Are you actually at the Villa Bella in Paris?"
At that exact moment, Graham disappeared like a wisp of smoke. I leapt up from the bed in pursuit ...
Once my eyes were open, I realized it had all been a dream. How could those feelings in the dream have been so much more palpable than in real life?
Could it be that Graham kept reappearing in my dreams for a reason? Was he still alive? Oh my God! He could be alive! He was alive!!
I suddenly remembered that when he had appeared in my dreams twice before, both of those dreams had come true: the first time, I dreamt that before being devoured by the fire, he left me a final goodbye in the form of an e-mail. The second time, he told me to visit that forest in Norway in search of a secret garden. God! I couldn't calm myself. Just the though of those dreams filled me with trepidation; my breath grew short.
Everything that had happened in the dream was exaggerated in my mind. I couldn't stay a minute longer in Toronto. I followed that dream and with a tiny piece of carry-on luggage in tow, I headed for Paris.
I arrived in Paris, caught a taxi, and made my way toward Villa Bella Hotel. I felt as if at any moment, my heart might jump from my throat. To tell the truth, I wanted so much to see him that I was afraid to see him. In my subconscious I think I even hoped not to see him.
What would someone who had returned from heaven look like? Surely quite frightening. God! His face must have been destroyed. Suddenly, I wanted to turn back. What was wrong with me? Wasn't John a great catch? He was so serious, so full of love. I could almost see his eyes looking warmly in my direction. He looked at me calmly, then turned slowly and walked away ... I wanted to run after him, but my feet wouldn't move. I could only stare in his direction as he disappeared in the distance.
...
...
It's impossible for me to describe how I felt as I descended from the taxi and began climbing the steep staircase of the Villa; nor can I do justice to the manner in which the lights at dusk shone through the railing in all their nineteenth-century noble splendor
...
With key in hand, just as I was about to turn towards the elevator, I noticed a lone tree shivering in the cold wind just outside the lobby in that split second, I saw myself trembling, even my hands were shaking.
"My love, tell me: where are you? How is it that you seem to disappear so suddenly?" I was crying in his embrace.
"I've already told you, but you mustn't come. I'm no longer myself."
"How could you not be yourself? Even if you've aged, you're ugly or blind or deaf or even dead, you'd still be you! Are you actually at the Villa Bella in Paris?"
At that exact moment, Graham disappeared like a wisp of smoke. I leapt up from the bed in pursuit ...
Once my eyes were open, I realized it had all been a dream. How could those feelings in the dream have been so much more palpable than in real life?
Could it be that Graham kept reappearing in my dreams for a reason? Was he still alive? Oh my God! He could be alive! He was alive!!
I suddenly remembered that when he had appeared in my dreams twice before, both of those dreams had come true: the first time, I dreamt that before being devoured by the fire, he left me a final goodbye in the form of an e-mail. The second time, he told me to visit that forest in Norway in search of a secret garden. God! I couldn't calm myself. Just the though of those dreams filled me with trepidation; my breath grew short.
Everything that had happened in the dream was exaggerated in my mind. I couldn't stay a minute longer in Toronto. I followed that dream and with a tiny piece of carry-on luggage in tow, I headed for Paris.
I arrived in Paris, caught a taxi, and made my way toward Villa Bella Hotel. I felt as if at any moment, my heart might jump from my throat. To tell the truth, I wanted so much to see him that I was afraid to see him. In my subconscious I think I even hoped not to see him.
What would someone who had returned from heaven look like? Surely quite frightening. God! His face must have been destroyed. Suddenly, I wanted to turn back. What was wrong with me? Wasn't John a great catch? He was so serious, so full of love. I could almost see his eyes looking warmly in my direction. He looked at me calmly, then turned slowly and walked away ... I wanted to run after him, but my feet wouldn't move. I could only stare in his direction as he disappeared in the distance.
...
...
It's impossible for me to describe how I felt as I descended from the taxi and began climbing the steep staircase of the Villa; nor can I do justice to the manner in which the lights at dusk shone through the railing in all their nineteenth-century noble splendor
...
With key in hand, just as I was about to turn towards the elevator, I noticed a lone tree shivering in the cold wind just outside the lobby in that split second, I saw myself trembling, even my hands were shaking.
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