This was my second dream:

I was back in Sweden again.  My ashes were scattered on a hillside overlooking a lake.  It must have been somewhere outside of Stockholm because there were oak trees in the forest, not only pine.  This is a peaceful resting place, I thought.  Not a bad location to hang out for an eternity.

Once in a while, people would come down to the lake to swim.  Amazingly some of them seemed familiar.  First the pitter-patter on the grass that covered me, and then the joyous laughs as their hot bodies hit the cold water.  It was Diane and the kids!  “I’m here,” I screamed, “right here.”  But of course they couldn’t hear me.  Every July they came back to the lake to swim and frolic.  Every year a little older, more responsible, but always full of life, mischief and sibling rivalries.

One year Diane had a man with her.  They held hands and talked gently to each other.  The children seemed to get along with him fine.  “Good for you, Diane,” I thought.  “It’s difficult to be alone in this world, especially if you have four children to take care of.”  Then a much older, almost grown-up, Saga appeared with a group of rowdy friends.  They drank wine, took a sauna in a little hut on the beach, and threw themselves naked into the water.

The following year the man didn’t return.  Diane came alone, but only with the two youngest this time.  Then the two youngest too stopped coming.  They must have had more exciting things to do than to go swimming.  But Diane was still there.  Every July, especially in the evening, she would sit alone by the water.  For hours, just looking at the sun lingering in the tree tops.  There was some white in her hair now and she seemed to have a problem with a knee.  “Diane, baby,” I wanted to say, “let’s always be together. Always.”

With a sharp intake of breath, I woke up, and found myself still stuck inside the PET tunnel.

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