I dreamt of my Dad and Uncle Noel, guffawing in their ripe old age and portly figures, about to drive away in a bright compact on an equally bright morning. As I was walking past them, Noel, who was behind the wheel, couldn’t remember how to drive, much less get to their destination. Dad asked me, “Do you know how to get to the beach?” In my office clothes, I frantically called several friends asking if they could help out, to no avail. I shrugged and told them, “Screw it. I’ll call in sick and take you there!”
When we got there, they stripped to their board shorts prepping for cool waters, poking and laughing at each other like they must have done as little kids. Sitting down on a nearby bench, they smiled for me as I took their pictures on my phone, with mischievous smiles and shining youth.
Dad passed away before the turn of this new millennium. And Uncle Noel during the pandemic has progressed dementia. But in my dreams, they could not be more vivid, more alive, or more cherished.
What a welcome visit. What a radiant dream.
The Flipcritic 
Dear Michael,
What a touching tribute. Noel and I were friends since we met working for IBM in Paris in the eighties. I met your parents once as well. After Paris we only met up sporadically as we never lived in the same country again, the last time was in 2008 or so, after which we lost touch. I should very much like to know how Noel is, having read in your post that he is not well. I don’t know his family, common IBM friends either deceased or lost from view, so you are the only person I can think of. You can contact me, if you want to, on empayne@proton.me.
Thank you and best regards,
Elizabeth
The Netherlands