nadir

The dead keep contacting me in my dreams. People that lingered in my life however briefly pull me aside and talk to me in languages that I do not understand. I see their faces and instantly recognize them, even if she was only in my third grade class for eighteen days and i saw her at The Alamo during the Sesquicentennial. Nonetheless she is dead and she tried to talk to me last night.

I spent part of the day on google looking up names, trying to remember who they were. Kathy reached out to me holding my hand while grabbing my ass. I last saw her walking down a parkway in 1997, I was driving the other way. She died a few years later with a needle in her arm.

I had not really thought of her in between that time nor since, but when she started talking in what may of well been tongues last night, I remembered quite a few moments of insanity from high school times. but what was she trying to tell me.
What did Jim, Ethan, Molly, My grandfather, Jeff, and who ever else visited me -- but while i remember them, their names escape me -- the past few weeks want me to know.

It is like the time in 1993 when i was driving down the freeway to the bank, getting money to take with me to college the next day. When I got on the feeder road a Arabic man drove up to me and screamed as me through the window trying to tell me something i knew was ever so important, but i could not understand a word he said. Was he yelling at me because I cut him off, or was he stating a universal truth that would have made my life so much easier to understand and live.

So i sit here now, once again pondering death, and pondering the significance of what is trapped in my head. What let it out. Who is next in my life to disappear and talk to me in a voice that is familiar, yet so distant.