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Memoirs: Dreams of the deceased

group had left off five years ago, as he seemed to be. In my dream, the "how" and "why" of Dave's return were baffling, yet inexplicably not as important as the concert we were about to play.

The other members of our brass quintet were already setting up on stage and they, too, were aware of Dave's amazing transformation. I somehow knew this, but I did not know what their individual thoughts were - in the dream I had only known about Dave's return for one day, and I hadn't had a chance to discuss it with the others face-to-face.

I wasn't even sure if we should mention it at all, especially in front of Dave. Did he even know what had happened to him? Was he aware of the passage of time? Did his wife, parents, or other friends know? I somehow felt that they did. This whole scene was just too weird!

To have a close friend get a life-after-death second chance was beyond comparable, and truly magical. Along with my disbelief of what had apparently happened, I experienced great joy and relief. This friend, who should not have been taken from our world so soon, was now back and ready to give music to the huddled masses - just as ready as he had been before. There were no debriefings, no astonished self-realizations, and no amazing accounts of existence after death; there was just Dave, as affable and funny as he'd always been.

Perhaps some celestial civil servant in charge of soul collection had taken five years to correct an error. Who knows? As we were about to leave the tent and carry our instruments to the stage, I somehow knew the quintet was going to be exactly the way it was five years ago. Everything would be the same - maybe because some part of me wanted to go back to that time, to travel the road we all should have been able to travel had Dave not died.

Then I woke up.

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