I sat down in my armchair, ‘just for a minute,’
then I was dreaming. There was my Poppi! I didn’t
know it was a dream. In the dream I didn’t know
she’d been dead. ‘Poppi, you’re back!’ I said,
with a joyful shout, and ran after her down the passage
as she scampered in a way she hadn’t these last few years,
but once did. I wanted to see her sweet face.
She never turned it to me, but I knew it was her.
Two other cats – Freya in 2010, Selene 2015 –
disappeared right after moving in here, to go and explore
for two whole days. Each time, I thought I’d never
see them again – until they turned up, curiosity satisfied,
no more wanders. In my dream, I thought it was just
like that. ‘Oh, Poppi,’ I said. ‘Here you are!’
I was laughing, excited. ‘Come here,’ I called,
‘and give me a cuddle.’ But she ran happily, full
of life and strength, and I ran too without stumbling –
which I can’t any more. Maybe that fact interrupted,
told me I was dreaming. With a sudden wrench
I woke up – alone in my chair, in a silent house.
The Spring day was already turning dark.
‘I dreamed that Poppi came back,’ I told a friend.
‘Perhaps she did,’ she said. Perhaps … it was
vivid enough. Others, other loved ones who
have gone on, have visited in dreams. Was this
a hello from Poppi-turned-angel? But in the dream
I was running too. Was it a different angel-message
to tell me, ‘Fear not. You will soon be rejoined.’ ?
Sharing with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings #249: Message from an Angel.
