The Empty Swing: Childhood Friendship & Fear of Meaning & Interpretation

"Last night, I had a dream that my best friend died. In my dream, we were children again. We sat on the swings in the old playground. The one behind our elementary school. Tom pushed me higher and higher. I laughed. The wind hit my face. It felt like flying. "Push me next!" he shouted. But when I turned around, the swing next to me was empty. It moved back and forth by itself. Creak. Creak. Creak. "Tom?" I called. No answer. I ran through the playground. The slide was empty. The sandbox was empty. Everything was silent. Even the birds stopped singing. Then I saw him at the end of the street. He stood under a big tree. But he was far away. Too far. "Wait for me!" I shouted. I ran as fast as I could. But the street got longer and longer. He got smaller and smaller. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was soft, like it came from far away. "I have to go now." "Don't go!" I screamed. "We still have so much to do! You promised! You promised!" He smiled. It was a sad smile. Then the wind blew, and he was gone. Like dust in the air. I fell to my knees on the street. I cried his name over and over. But only the echo answered. Then I woke up. My pillow was wet with tears. It was 3 a.m. My room was dark and quiet. I grabbed my phone. I almost called Tom. But it was the middle of the night. This morning, I called him anyway. He answered on the second ring. "Hey, what's up?" he said. His voice was real. Alive. "Nothing," I said. "I just wanted to hear your voice.""