A dream about life

dream last night:

I’m with my grandma in the hospital. She is restless, and keeps getting up to adjust things around the room. She walks slowly, in such a way that you can feel her pain. She looks not like my actual grandparents, but how I would imagine I would look, if I was old.

She lays in bed, and beckons me over to her side. I slowly get up from the chair, walk over, grabbing her hand. She stares not at me, but at a speck on the distant wall, for a few moments. I wait, patient.

‘I think it’s time for me,’ she says. ‘I’m so tired.’

I look at her, and I see how she feels, I understand. I am sad, but not unhappy.

‘You can ask,’ I say. ‘You can ask them, and if it is time, they will let you go.’

She looks at me. ‘They might not, though. If they don’t, you’re still have some purpose here,’ I say.

I look at her, her eyes pin to mine. I see the depths of life in them, deep like the ocean abyss, full of things I don’t understand yet.

I wake up.