What Are You Doing Here?

I was sitting fully clothed on the edge of the bed.

My hands were resting in my lap.  My feet were resting flat on the floor.

In an endless loop inside my head I quietly and calmly said his name over and over again.

Sean.  Sean.  Sean.  Sean.  Sean.

He walked into the bedroom.

He was talking as he walked and was wearing a thick hooded jacket in hunters orange.

He looked the same way he had looked when he was about 14 years old.

His hair was longer, starting to get darker after years of being white.

He had the same eyes and beautiful face that I had loved for a lifetime.

It was the face of a boy who was beginning to grow into a man.

 He was holding something in his hand, and as he turned to face the door leading into the bedroom he was talking and looking down at whatever it was that he held.

LC walked into the room behind him and they faced each other, both completely engulfed in conversation.

Both looking at whatever it was he was holding.

I looked at him stunned.

"Sean, what are you doing here?"

Neither Sean nor LC responded.

They kept talking as though I wasn't even in the room.

They just kept looking down at whatever it was that Sean had in his hand.

What were they talking about?  What was he holding?  What had them both so totally focused?  Can you hear me?

"What are you DOING here?"

I couldn't understand why he wouldn't answer me.

I could feel the panic.  The desperation.  It was rising fast and threatened to consume me.

"SEAN!  What are you DOING here??  

SEAN!!"

I woke up with a start..............