by Suzanne Baran

Allison befriended me three years ago through our mutual best friend, Julie. The two attended law school in New York City. Julie and Allie were both red heads, their names rhymed and they looked like sisters. I was the brunette of our triad, but not made to feel like a third-wheel. We became closer than sisters--they were the first to comfort me when I broke up with my boyfriend, greeting me with wine and smiles.

Every Saturday night we went to our favorite hangout called, American Trash, on the Upper East Side. We played pool, flirted with the locals, and had philosophical talks in the ladies room --sometimes until the sun came up.

Allie was an expert at pool and life. She survived more tragedies, illnesses and financial mishaps than anyone I’ve ever met aside from my Holocaust survivor grandmother. In the two years I knew her, Allie was diagnosed with Hepatitis C (which she hid from Julie and me until hospitalized); she was narrowly escaped rape after a man followed her into her building one Saturday night. Always a fighter, Allie was a full-time law school student at the age of 42, and plugged away at her studies while working as a transcriber for two editors and attorneys. She was poor and lived off disability insurance from her illness. A smile always colored her face, even when she worried about paying rent and feeding her four cats--she was always charitable to those who had less than she did. I never saw her turn away an open homeless person’s hand, and she always bought me drinks and showered me with love.

After my brother’s death, I experienced physical pain resulting from emotional grief, and had severe pelvic spasms. I went to bed after being at the Gyno’s office for hours and Allie was the first to pamper me with a handful of Xanax and orange juice. Five months after that, I received a call from Allie’s friend/neighbor Ruth telling me she died. I sat stunned, unable to speak. I looked at the phone as a foreign object, dropped it and screamed. At 25, I’d been through the first stages of grief with my brother’s death and now I had to face losing Allie. She was traveling in the Virgin Islands on some money she saved. She wanted to find a legal internship for the summer and ride horses, while soaking in the sun and sand. Two days before her death, she sent me an email attachment with a picture of her sitting on a brown mare wearing a wide smile. Things were working out well for her, she said. She seemed truly happy and worry-free for the first time since we met. My heart was glad.

Details of her death were few. Apparently she choked on something alone, in her room, lost the cell phone I gave her and by the time help arrived she was dead. It was a fluke accident; it seemed to make sense to me, though. G-d took her when she was at her most fulfilled, her happiest, she wasn’t in pain. Allie was buried in the same cemetery as my brother Jeff. She grew up in a New York and the cemetery was in New Jersey--for some reason...I think G-d planned it this way so I could see them both at the same place. I kissed both their graves last summer around mid to late May.

Fast forward to one year later, I moved to California and on the night before what would be my car accident, Allie appeared to me in a dream. I wrote it down on the morning of May 22, 2003, the day I sustained minor physical injuries and major financial ones.

In the dream, Allie said my soul requested her. She led me to a grassy knoll which was where I saw her new home. It was a tiny white cottage, with white interior, carpet, walls and beds. Allie was wearing all white too. She said she was happy now where she wasn’t before, and she yelled at me. She implored me not to be sad -- to keep my head up and dispel all melancholy surrounding her death. Stop being upset, she yelled repeatedly and in her strong and familiar didactic tone. She loved Julie though they fought before she died, and she said she loved me. "We will go on," and "I will go on," she said, referring to herself. "I am irritated with your sadness and with you for being sad and dwelling on the past" she yelled.

In a dream sequence prior to this, I was on a white sailboat. The deck was made of wood painted white. I walked to the helm of the boat and saw a brown mare, its mane blowing in the wind. I knew at that moment that Allie was with me, surrounding me, giving me some sort of missive. The horse’s name popped in my head--Amanda. I somehow knew her name. The sky was white. Then Allie appeared from behind Amanda. I saw her red, long hair flowing as she pet her horse, and then the boat filled with water and fish were floating in it and I spotted a baby shark. I climbed up the ladder leading to the boat’s stern/wheel and a huge dolphin tried snapping at me but I somehow knew it wouldn’t hurt me-- it goaded me to get off the boat onto land. To live.