That night, in my dream, I was in a vast, crowded gallery. The walls were hung with stunning landscapes, like scenes from Simon’s photos. I couldn’t get close enough to view them properly. I had to squeeze through clusters of people who seemed oblivious to the art works.
Then I saw Will. He wore jeans and one of the loose, white cotton shirts that he liked for summer. His grey hair was long, curling over his collar. I pushed through the crowds to reach him, but he had disappeared. I stood bewildered, lost, searching the crush. There he was again, on the fringe of the gathering, walking away from me. I ran this time, knocking into people, excusing myself, pushing on further. I lost him again.
When I saw him for the third time, he stood alone in front of one of the paintings. It was a seas
