Sometimes I have the weirdest dreams, like the one the other night. That was more aptly a nightmare, and it reminded me of a book I read as a teen where machines suddenly come to life and begin attacking humans. An unseen force turns televisions, laundry machines, and other appliances on and off. Kitchen knives go airborne and fling across the room before embedding in the wall while dishes crash to the floor. Vehicles drive into buildings as people, terrified by the chaos, run and hide. I wish I could remember the name of that book. I believe it was written by either Stephen King or Dean Koonz. I read that when I was into sci-fi, horror movies, and scary books. I’m not anymore. My dreams must not know that.

In many of my dreams, I see dead people. Deceased loved ones occasionally visit me as I sleep. Those visions often reflect previous real-life interactions with departed friends and family members. Sometimes they occur on different nights; other times, it is the same night with kaleidoscopic shifting scenes. Mother and I sit at the dining room table, enthusiastically battling on the Scrabble board. * * * It’s early morning on the 4^th of July, and Dad and I are at the wharf. He is buying a bushel of crabs for our family get-together later that day. * * * Aunt Ida and I are fishing at the mill pond. I am overjoyed because I just caught a tiny fish but puzzled because she tells me I should throw it back. * * *  Sain and I are in her kitchen fixing a breakfast of country sausages and eggs. Biscuits are baking in the oven. I am laughing at one of her jokes.  

Once, Uncle Allen showed up in my dream. It was the first and the only time I dreamt about him since he died 13 years ago. He and dad (always active sports fans) are alternately cheering and cussing while watching a baseball game on TV. 

About a week ago, just before I awakened at dawn, my friend Susan appeared in my dream for a split second. Her nicely coifed red hair framed a serene pearly face. She displayed a radiant smile but didn’t say anything. And in a flash, she was gone. I immediately awoke and, as I often do, tried to interpret the dream.

Dream experts say, “It’s generally accepted that dreams represent a collection of thoughts, struggles, emotions, events, people, places and symbols relevant to the dreamer in some way.”

Susan was one of my close Facebook friends. Contrary to what some people may think, all Facebook friendships are not superficial. In addition to Susan, I’ve made some genuine friendships on the site. Susan and I were introduced by Mary, another mutual friend, in January 2014. Perhaps because we were all writers, we bonded immediately. Sadly, we lost Mary in 2016.

Susan and I were writing books when we met; my first, her second. As I struggled with my initial draft, she generously gave me solicited advice and then celebrated with me after Legacy was published. We discussed the chapter I wrote about having met Stokely Carmichael (original name of Kwame Ture) when he was a student at Howard University. (For years during my childhood, my family lived short blocks away from Howard University.) “I am a year younger than Stokely would have been had he lived,” she said. Susan enjoyed telling me about some of her and her late husband’s activist days and travel adventures. I found them quite entertaining.

An avid reader, Susan has 67 reviews of various books on Goodreads.com, including one she voluntarily wrote about my book. (“Goodreads is the world’s largest site for readers and book recommendations.”)

The morning after I dreamed about Susan, I went to my computer and reread some of the correspondences we had exchanged over the years. Those included numerous emails and instant messages on Facebook. We even traded a few phone calls. Then, indicative of the bond we formed, after joyfully sharing the news that she had finalized the first draft of her second book, she sent me some chapters to critique.

In late 2019, Susan expressed how excited she was to be planning a move to another apartment. One of her emails contained an attachment depicting photos of two beautiful vintage African figurines she had acquired during her travels. She said she located them while packing and had not decided whether to keep or sell them.

A year earlier, Susan had talked about flying here from her home in Los Angeles to visit the recently opened National Museum of African American History at the Smithsonian. Unfortunately, her visit was an ill-timed one for me, and we missed an opportunity to meet in person.

Then, suddenly, our almost daily contact stopped for several days. I kept writing Susan but got no response. “What’s up, Susan?” I wrote. “Are you okay?”

One day I received a short email from her saying she had suddenly taken ill. “It came on out of the blue, and it is bad,” she said. “It seems to be some kind of flu.” She said she was in hospice care and would write me again when she felt better.

In December 2019, I received an email from Susan’s sister. After identifying herself, she said, “I’m sorry to tell you that my sister died suddenly following a brief illness. I know that she thought a lot of you.” She said Susan had asked her to contact certain friends if she did not make it. That was one month before the CDC reported the first case of COVID-19 in the U.S. I often wonder….

Dream expert Dr. Joshua Black says this about dreams, “The most positive dreams are the ones in which the deceased offers comfort through words or actions, or dreams in which the dream­er sees them, healthy and happy.”

The toughest part about dreaming about someone we care about – be it kin or friend – is waking up to remember that person is gone. True friendships cross color lines, unite cultures, and help people realize they are more alike than different.