I dreamed about him again last night. That's two nights in a row that I'm aware of and remember. Last night I think it was more about him being him instead of him representing the missing part of me. I don't remember much of the dream, I just remember being on the bed, watching him get dressed, like I did a thousand times when he was alive. And I knew that he was dead, because I had that sense of heartlonging loss as I watched him, knowing that even though it was something we had done thousands of times, this one felt different. I said to him, "At least I have you" and truly believed that he was still there, but then he looked at me with that sad, knowing look in his eyes and I realized that no, I didn't have him, and that I was still going to be alone. That woke me up, with that yawing pit of loneliness in my stomach.