The River

Dan Paik left this world six years ago today. 

He has not visited me in any dreams recently, but he and my mom are always with me. In the past several months my mom has had cameo roles in many dreams. 

It just so happens that this essay was published by a wonderful journal last week.

https://underthesunonline.com/wordpress/2020/the-river/

Dreams in Pink Madras

 I was at a party, and there he was. He pulled up a chair across from me, our knees nearly touching. There was a table to our right where we set our drinks. "You're back," I said. I meant back from the dead. He nodded."You look good. God, you look so good." And really, Dan had never looked better. He looked rested, and the skin on his hands and face was smooth. A life of hard work, erased. I took his face in my hands and our eyes locked.
"You know I can't stay," he said.

The dream was thin--a whisper, a shadow. The party was something about books. My friend Elizabeth was there. Our eyes met. I looked at her as if to say, don't breathe a word about this visit from the other world. She nodded.

"I love your shirt," I said to Dan, though it was nothing like I'd ever seen him wear in real life. The shirt was a pink madras plaid with a button-down collar. And he might have been wearing an earring.

That's all I remember.

***

Clothing seems to figure rather prominently into my dreams about Dan. The stylish jacket and designer sunglasses he wore when he turned up at my house with the gorgeous blond; the long red skirt, tight pants, bolero, kimono, and two hats he was wearing the time he wanted to take me to the balloon festival. Now pink madras. What does it all mean? No idea.

But I do know this: Saturday night I had friends over. We ate on the patio even though it was chilly. "Here. Wear the guest polar-fleece," I told the friend who'd only brought shorts and a t-shirt. It was Dan's jacket I offered him. One of two jackets Dan habitually wore, and I keep it in the armoire next to the front door. I ended up wearing the other jacket that night. I went upstairs to use the bathroom, and realized I was a bit cold too. When I went into my closet to find something warm, there was Dan's blue jacket. It matched my shirt perfectly so I put it on. What a beautiful jacket, everyone said when I came downstairs. So there we were, partying on the patio in Dan's jackets,warm bodies in the cold night air, connecting this world to the next.

You'll Want to Have What I Had

I had two glasses of the above concoction with some ceviche and chips last night.

Dream:

Dan Paik came back from the dead, wearing a long red skirt over tight pants, a bolero, a kimono, and two hats perched at jaunty angles. He came bearing gifts for every birthday and holiday that he'd missed. In the dream, I didn't quite realize that he'd been dead, I thought he'd stayed away because  he'd broken up with me. What's all this? I asked of the dozens of colorful shoes, the chocolates shaped like animals, the watercolor paints. "It's all for you, baby," he said. The gift that beat all gifts was an immense curly-haired dog wearing an embroidered jacket that said flowers and candy in romantic curlicued script. "Is that his name?" I asked. Dan laughed and shrugged. All this while I'm thinking, uh-oh, what about Amado? 

Dan and I were sitting on the bed in my apartment and I could hear Amado whistling as he came up the stairs. I stood up to hug Amado, then turned toward Dan. "Guys, I've got some explaining to do," I said. They listened and there was some back and forth about what it meant to be dead. "It's time to go downstairs," Dan said. The three of us descended into the street and half of L.A. was standing there, necks craned upward. It was the night of the Bobbing Man, or maybe it was Ballooning Men. The sky was full of  primary colored life-size balloon men, some of them anatomically correct. When one of the endowed balloon men bobbed up and down in the evening breeze, a roar would rise from the crowd. 

Dan, Amado and I walked around in amazement. The sunset had lit  the sky on fire and torches lined the street. It wasn't long before we ran into my friend Paula and her sisters who had traveled from Arizona to witness the spectacle. I tried to explain about Dan and got confused, but Paula seemed to take it all in stride. We sat on a bench and talked, and my younger daughter who was still a young teenager came and lay across our laps and fell asleep. I thought about telling Paula that I might be leaving the Earth soon, that I felt like I was as tenuously tied to this life as one of the balloon men, but I didn't want to risk worrying my daughter, so I kept that thought to myself.

What the heck? But thanks for the visit, Dan Paik. It was lovely to see you. Coincidentally, it was my friend Paula, who appeared in the dream, that left the bottle of La Vida Bonita at my house.  What a pretty life, indeed.  But who is Amado?