I’ve had a few dreams over the years that have felt as real as life – waking up still going through the emotions (and motions) of the dream. Once, I woke up in physical pain, clutching my stomach from the two dogs attacking me and clawing my guts out in my dream. And then there are the countless times where I’ve gone for a sleep walk and half woken up muttering something or other and trying to get out of the building.
Last night I was on a packed train heading to nowhere. Football fans of all colours were everywhere, there was little space to breath and the edges of my periphery blurred into a swirl of nothingness. It was hot, I was tired and could see no end in sight.
And then there was Pete – right in the centre of the carriage – someone to focus on and calm down. He smiled at me and motioned to come towards him. I managed to squeeze my way through the crowd, keeping my eyes on him to make sure I made it ok.
He reached for me as I struggled past the last sweaty, lager breathed lout, brushing aside the damp scarf briefly stuck to my face. It was the big bear hug of an embrace that brought it all back – oh and his big blue eyes – you could get lost in those eyes as anyone who knew Big Pete would tell you. I looked up at him – he seemed even bigger than I remember, as if I was his kid brother – and told him I missed him. Pete looked down, gave me a peck on the cheek and told me everything would be ok. I smiled and rested my head in his chest and felt safe for the first time on that train.
A smile and some tears arrived on my face at the same time.
Some dreams are a lot more vivid than others. And last night I woke up almost in tears.
RIP Big Pete – glad you’re still around somewhere nearly a year on.
mazzinisfatchildren 