I dreamt of you, little boy, tonight. But it wasn't the same sad dream with the usual even more sad wake-up. I dreamt that you were coming back. You had been with my aunt and my oncle for all these months and they had taken good care of you. But now it was time for you to come back home, with mum and dad. And John and I were finding your old stuff, to get ready for your return.
I awoke and suddenly realised it was just a dream but this time I didn't fell sad, I felt quite OK, quite serene, quite full of hope.
My boy is coming back, in a shape or in another. He left, he found the place he had to and now he'll be here with us, forever.
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