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A few years ago, I lost a friend under tragic and suspicious circumstances. We were told he was found at a shooting range with a gun in his hand, and it was ruled a suicide. The school quickly moved on, never addressing it again. However, one of his roommates later confided in me, claiming that the story we were told wasn’t the truth—that my friend hadn’t taken his own life, but rather, someone else had killed him. Given the shady things that happened at that school, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Recently, I had a dream about him. In the dream, a new semester had already begun, and I was back in college, wandering through the building, trying to figure out where my class was. As I walked past the campus bistro, I saw him sitting there. He looked a little older—just as he would if he were still alive today—but it was undeniably him. His hair had grown out, and he was wearing that same dorky orange shirt that always reminded me of Naruto’s jumpsuit.

I stopped in my tracks, did a double take, and then cautiously waved at him. The bistro was crowded, so I mouthed, “Kevin, what the hell are you doing here?” His reaction surprised me. He looked just as shocked to see me as I was to see him. He lifted one finger, as if asking me to wait a moment, then gestured for me to leave the bistro. I got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to me—he just couldn’t talk to me in there for some reason. I waited outside, but before I could find out what he wanted to say, I woke up.

Oneirly Answered question January 19, 2025