Last night was our first night back in our own bed in New York in 11 nights. It was probably partially because of jet lag, but I dreamt that we were walking through the dark but well lit streets of Kyoto in Gion at night. There were all these bamboo potted plants and old tiled roofs and traditional Japanese doors, steps, and mini rock gardens. The primary colors that stood out during our walk were bright, golden yellow, warm brown, and deep, cool greens. As I entered what appeared to be a restaurant, Chris walked in first, and I followed him. He walked toward a dark room where there was a couch, and he pulled my hand toward him as he laid himself down on the couch and laid me down beside him.

The next thing I knew, it was about 2:30am according to my clock, and I woke up in our New York apartment. This wasn’t a dream anymore. I glanced around the room, not recognizing it for a moment, still trying to figure out where were were both sleeping and if we were still in Kyoto. I glanced to the left of my bed, where I saw framed photos of Ed on the wall that Chris had hung up almost two years ago. No, we’re not in Kyoto anymore, or Japan for that matter. We are back in New York and back to real life. The light that lit Ed’s photos up were not from warm Kyoto homes and restaurants, but rather the dull, cold light of the apartments outside our window.

Japan is in our past now.