Pablo came yesterday. Fifteen months after his death, we danced.

Having a loved one who has departed from this plane visit us in dreams is a gift. And, like any gift, it's as precious as it is sporadic. The dream encounter, despite being sudden and unexpected, is more real than reality. In it, we see them, feel them, and talk as if they were alive. At least that's how it's been when I've dreamed about my dad, my brother Adrián, and my beloved in-laws.

I wish I could retain those moments, both in dreams and in memory, and that the encounter would last longer. But, nonetheless, I cling to those visits with all my being; time inexorably fades them away.

The morning after having the dream, I woke up with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I smiled at having perceived and relived the joy of feeling Pablo's masculine and protective energy, which always enveloped me and made me feel safe. On the other hand, I felt nostalgic and longing for not having seen his face. I didn't see it!

Ever since Pablo left, I've desired, longed, asked, and begged to dream about him. Yesterday he came, but only half-heartedly. In my dream, I relived our first meeting, which happened when I was 15. It was a festive affair, because he'd put on lotion, was wearing a black suit, a white shirt with neatly ironed pleats, and a black bow tie. At one point, he asked me to go on the dance floor to a romantic song. I got a little nervous: I'd only done a couple of quiet dances with a friend I wasn't interested in. "What's going to happen? Will he dance well? Will I dance well?" my heart pounded.

Pablo was much taller than me. As he wrapped his arm around my back and took my hand in his other, we stood very close to each other for the first time. It was a new way of getting to know each other. My vision was precisely the one I'd relived in my dreams: the skin of his neck, a section of his white shirt, a portion of his black lapel, all wrapped in his delicious scent.

I remember him beginning to "lead" me to the rhythm of the music, and to my surprise, we soon gelled. Once that initial moment of anticipation passed, I relaxed. Then, with all due respect, he pulled me a little closer, and I was able to inhale and perceive the scent not of his lotion, but of something else on his skin, which cast a kind of spell and awakened every cell in me. For the first time, I experienced that allure that held endless promises for the future. Perhaps it was the testosterone and its male pheromones? The mystery of that primal, instinctive attraction guarantees the continuation of the species.

The fact is that to the mutual attraction that already existed, this one of another kind was added: chemical. In this new feeling, I realized it was my body that was responding to him, not my head or my heart. I had forgotten that pleasant sensation. And, thanks to my dream, the memories of our first encounter were revived. The encounter was as real as it had been that time. I had the same limited vision and I inhaled, fascinated—as I had the first time—the scent of the skin of his neck; but this time, I rested my head on his chest, now so familiar. I closed my eyes to let myself be carried away and enveloped by his masculine and protective energy.

Dreams are a mystery. I wonder if they hold a hidden message we should decipher. If so, I want to believe that Pablo wanted to convey to me that now, as I always was, I am still protected, loved, and safe, even in his absence. I rest my head even more on his chest, allowing myself to be carried away and enveloped in that energy I loved so much.