Destined Dreams "Vision Meets Destiny"

bound by starlight

March 15, 2022, is a day of deep sadness for me. My father passed away, and my mom and I are returning to Los Angeles for his funeral. As the owner of a well-known talent agency, my dad's passing has garnered considerable attention from high-profile actors and celebrities. His funeral will be a gathering of many prominent figures, and while I appreciate their sympathy, I feel overwhelmed by the prospect of facing so many people. The idea of being in such a large crowd makes me anxious and uncomfortable.

As we arrive at the funeral, the reality of it all crashes down on me. The sheer number of people-famous faces I'd only ever seen on screens and in magazines-feels surreal. They approach my mom and me, offering their condolences, their eyes filled with the kind of sadness that only comes with losing someone important. They say all the right things, and I nod along, but inside, I feel numb.

I stand beside my mom, Ely Morgan, a daughter without her father. My mind drifts as I shake hands and offer polite smiles. Then, suddenly, I catch sight of someone who seems out of place yet oddly familiar-Reed Palmer.

He moves through the crowd, his presence commanding attention even in this somber setting. My heart skips a beat. Reed Palmer, the man who has appeared in my dreams so many times, is here, in the flesh. He walks up to me, and for a moment, I forget where I am, why I'm here. His gaze is intense, yet soft, and he looks at me as though he knows exactly what I'm feeling.

"Ely," he says, his voice smooth yet comforting. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I can hardly believe he's here, standing in front of me. How does he know who I am? How does he know my name? My mom and I haven't lived in LA for years, and yet, Reed Palmer knows who I am. I want to ask him how, why, but the words stick in my throat. All I can do is nod, feeling a strange mix of shock, confusion, and sadness.

My thoughts whirl as Reed continues to speak, expressing his condolences with a sincerity that touches me deeply. But even as he speaks, my mind is clouded by the overwhelming grief for my dad. The man who was my hero, my guide, is gone, and no matter how many famous faces surround me or how many comforting words are said, nothing can fill that void.

And yet, here is Reed Palmer, a man I barely know, yet feel inexplicably connected to, standing before me in this moment of loss. It's as though the universe has brought him here for a reason, but I can't yet grasp what that reason might be. All I know is that, in this moment, I'm not alone.

The funeral ends, leaving behind a heavy silence that settles over everything like a thick fog. My mom and I stand by my dad's grave, the finality of it all sinking in as the last of the guests offer their condolences and begin to leave. The overwhelming presence of celebrities and friends has faded, leaving just the two of us with our grief.

We linger for a moment longer, then my mom gently squeezes my hand. "Let's go home," she says softly.

Home. The word feels foreign on my tongue. Los Angeles was once our home, but it hasn't been for a long time. Yet, as we drive through the familiar streets, memories begin to flood back-childhood days spent in the sun, evenings with my dad, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls of our old house. The house that we would now be returning to, not as a family, but as two broken pieces trying to fit together.

When we arrive, the house looks the same, yet different. It feels empty, haunted by the absence of my dad. The warmth that once filled every corner is now replaced by an eerie stillness. My mom steps inside first, and I follow, my footsteps echoing in the large, empty spaces.

"We'll stay here," she says after a moment, her voice firm despite the sorrow in her eyes. "It's what your father would have wanted."

I nod, knowing she's right, but feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of living in this house without him. His presence is everywhere-in the photos on the walls, the furniture he chose, the little things he loved. But he's not here, and that's what makes it all the more difficult.