She helped me remember, and she helped me with my nightmare. The nightmare was my guilt and disappointment in myself that was manifesting in my dreams. It took me a while, but I eventually forgave myself. And that is about when the nightmare stopped," he says. "I am so sorry you went through that. I often have nightmares, but I luckily don't remember them. But I understand the frustration of forgetting something you should remember. What were you trying to remember?" I asked, really interested in getting to know more about this man.
"You," he says simply, prompting me to look at him. "I couldn't remember the way you looked the last day I saw you. When I tried to picture your smiling face, all I could see was how you looked in my nightmare," he says softly. "Your nightmare was about me?"
