dreams of who I am

I've been told that I resemble my paternal grandfather, Julio Fairchild.  Given that he died 13 years before I was born, I have only a small number of yellowed photographs as evidence.  Then, a few nights ago, I dreamed that I was putting away chairs and tables after an outdoor wedding.  A man slightly older than me, friendly and fit, came to my assistance.  From the context of our conversation, it was clear that he was my grandfather, and that he was aware that he had been dead since 1946.  But far from being surreal and spooky, he was merely catching up on what had gone on during the past 67 years.  And while I was delighted to see the man to whom I have often been compared, our words were casual and nonchalant, as if this was the most common of occurrences.

the conversation

I never had

with Grandpa