I fell asleep to thoughts of cuddling you; imagining and clinging to memories of your weight and lightness, the gentleness of your eyes and your quick heartbeat against my chest. Memories of you were my anchor that kept replaying in my mind as I tried to reconnect to you, like one extending the antennae of a receiver and finding the frequency of one's favourite radio station.
And there, in that darkness, I found you! Your energy and spirit of pure joy was so crisp and so clear that it brought a big wide smile to my face. Hello Metta, my heart! I miss you so.
That early morning, I dreamt of you and it felt so real. You were nestled on Hensley's legs, happily turning your chest and belly towards us for rubs as you basked in the glorious golden sun. If dogs could smile, you had the biggest, happiest and most contented smile one could see. You were radiating light and happiness.
In the next scene, I saw you curled up on the couch at home as I was coming out of the hallway. You had a slight sheepish look, as if you knew you weren't supposed to get on the couch, but your tail was also wagging wildly as you saw me. I was surprised and immediately said to Mom: "But hey, Metta isn't here anymore, why is she home?"
And with that, I woke up. Wide awake. It was a cold morning at the rented house at the Mornington Peninsula and everyone was still asleep. As I looked around in darkness, the dreams of you were so fresh in my that I had to remind myself that you're not here anymore.
I've dreamt of you at the witching hour, so is that a sign of a visitation? I love how the you were illuminated by the gorgeous dose of golden rays in the first dream with Hensley and I, and that it was just you in the light.
The thoughts of you being a light-filled contented being bring joy to my heart. I hope and pray so much that your existence in lives ever after will always be filled be dhamma and goodness. May you always be happy and free from suffering.
I am ever so grateful to have met you and sometimes wish we had more time together.