Was I a Ghost?

 

 I dreamed last night that I was at an all night going away party for my friend, Stuart, who was repatriating to Scotland, his home country. It was a wild gathering with lots of noise, music, laughter and stories. Nobody spoke to me - not even in passing. Stuart was the life of the party, spinning anecdotes and charming everyone.

In the morning, while showering, I noticed that there were big purple bruise-type markings all over my body again. I knew this meant that my end was finally near. The doctors warned me that this would happen. Nothing they could do about it. Leukemia. No longer treatable.

The party group decided to go to a café for brunch on the way to drop off Stuart at the airport in time for his flight. It was a large, cavernous place with fairy lights and potted shrubbery. They found a table that seated everyone but me. I went to find and bring back a seat for myself. As I was about to sit down, Stuart stood up to make a little speech. When he was done, I approached him for a hug. He kept his arms at his sides when I put mine around him and I realized how little he cared for me. I said, "Please don't leave." He quickly moved away. There was an awkward silence. 

After we ate, I went off to find the restroom. I was in there no more than 5 minutes. When I returned to the table, it was empty. The entire group had left without me. I had no vehicle of my own to get to the airport. I was wandering around the café to see if they were still in the building, but they were not. I went to the parking lot, but the van was gone. I realized that they must have raced to get away as soon as I left the table. 

While standing beside a dessert bar, my vision faded and went to black.

I came to hooked up to several machines, in a hospital bed. Medics said that my time was nigh. I wasn't bothered to die. 

Later that afternoon, I heard the news. Stuart was gone forever, as I expected. What wasn't expected was that so were the other party-goers who'd been at the café. It seems that the van was crushed when a bridge collapsed on top of them just as they were halfway through the underpass on their way to the airport. No survivors. Stuart missed his flight, for sure.

I died at 8:17pm that same night.  I didn't feel a thing.

 Now, this all happened in a dream. When I woke up this morning, it hit me that I didn't know any of the people in that dream, not Stuart, not any of them. Maybe I was just a ghost in their lives which is why nobody acknowledged me. Maybe I just visited someone else's timeline - someone who did know these people. 

 ©Ellen Pepper 2025