letting go

There's this dream I used to have that started some time after the incident.

You had to move away for some reason, so you just packed up and left. Weeks later, people were reaching out to me trying to figure out why you hadn't contacted them--including your mother (which is funny because I hadn't met your mother yet, in this dream). I checked my phone and realized you hadn't called me either. Strange. I called and asked if I could come see you. You said yes, so I took the $5 and hour-long train ride from L.A. to the Midwest and ended up bringing you back with me. I never saw your new digs. We got back to the apartment that same day and found my roommate sleeping on the chair next the couch in the living room. We crept into the bedroom to talk so as to avoid waking her up, but before I got to say anything you asked to use my chapstick. "Sure, it's in the bathroom." As you walked over to get it, I asked you if you'd called your mother yet, and you said no. I didn't know why. I wanted to ask if you'd moved on but instead I woke up. When my eyes opened, I laid in bed for several minutes wondering why you hadn't called me either... then I realized you were dead.