I was working at the Salvation Army, as a front desk attendant in the men's hostel. He came to the front door, stood there wordlessly, looking at the door, rather than at me. I was to his right, in an office perpendicular to the security door, and as though it was the most normal thing to do, I pressed the button to unlock the door and let him in. Then I casually opened the office door so he could enter, which he did, and he sat in a chair across from my desk. I knew him, after all. He'd been a resident of the centre while on parole recently. There was only one problem: he'd died of a drug overdose the previous night.
This was, of course, a dream. But an extremely vivid one. I'll call him Joe here, to protect his identity and adhere to my confidentiality agreement with Correctional Services Canada. Joe's eyes were so sunken, I couldn't actually see his eyes. They were just dark shadows. Pits, really. He kept his face downcast, to the floor. He wore the pajama pants he often wore while having resided there, and a simple t-shirt. He never spoke, and I continued with my paperwork, but the impression that came to my mind as this 'dream' progressed was that he was saying thank you to me, for having treated him like a human being, with dignity, during his stay there. He also seemed to be apologizing, for fucking up yet again. The overdose, that had taken his life.
Joe was an addict, and known recidivist. But he did his time and obeyed the rules. While on parole, he was polite with hostel staff, occasionally even helpful, and completed his day parole quietly, uneventfully. He even passed all drug tests while on day parole, avoiding the temptation until he was granted full parole, meaning he could leave the halfway house and get his own apartment. Within a week, he was dead.
It was one of the most vivid 'dreams' I've ever had, and one of the only dreams I've ever remembered more than a day or two. This happened about 3 years ago and I still remember it clearly. Was it a dream, or a visit?
One other thing. I didn't know that Joe had died at the time of this visit. I learned of his death several days later, from our resident social worker.
