Obituary

Justin Andrew Parker, 17, of Park Hills, Missouri,  was born on December 29, 1992, in Dover, Delaware. He departed this life on September 8, 2010. He was a senior at Central High School and member of the Swing Choir, Honor Choir, Marching and Jazz Band, Wrestling and Golf Team. He was a member of the Esther Gospel Tabernacle Church.

He is survived by: Parents, Mark and Shelly Parker; brother, Cameron Parker; sister, Brittany Parker; grandparents, Lillian and the late Rev. Denver Parker, Frank and the late Sheila Horn, and Jim and Cathy Kerr; special friend, Eric Marler. Other Relatives and many friends also survive.

Dreams

     Dreams are fantasy worlds. For one second, everything's the way it should be; Cities made of Emerald, castles made of sand, and kingdoms ruled by an eccentric Queen of Hearts.

    Nothing goes wrong in my dreams. In fact, everything works very smoothly.  There’s no bad grades, no rotten popcorn kernels, no fruity pebbles cemented to the bowl. Cars never have flat tires, doors are never locked. Even if something bad does happen, it’s okay. There are ways around every misfortune. If I came across a locked door, it’s an adventure to find the key-holder! Even if it’s not smooth, it’s a heart-racing thriller. Explosions, car racing, and chasing a white rabbit for answers.

     Well, they used to be like that, anyway.

     Back in the day, my dreams were pretty badass. Samurais beat the shit out of each-other, cartoon characters came to life. Sometimes, I was trapped in video games. Or—better yet—the classic "cookie factory" dreams. Everyone has some version of the cookie factory dream.
You know, those dreams where you’re in a factory with something you really like, like cookies, and you have an infinite supply of them.  Strange thing about the cookie factory dreams, though; when I would be stuck in the cookie factory, I couldn’t find any cookies. There would be plenty of curling irons, but no, if I wanted a cookie, I’d have to go all the way across the street to the barber shop. Of course, that’d be too much work. Plus, I’m very content with unlimited curling irons. I can make myself look pretty. 

Hey, I did say dreams are fantasy worlds, right?  Don’t judge.

     Nowadays, my dreams are much more normal. But they’re better now. I am happier dreaming than I ever was before. Back when I dreamed those fanciful dreams, my real life wasn’t so different from my dreams, with the exception of one or two physical impossibilities. I mean, when I was younger, my life was a fantasy. I excelled at everything. I had good grades. Plans. Ideas of right and wrong. A drive. A Best Friend.  

The world seemed fair. 

     It was a fantasy world. 

     Now, I dream of the life I used to have. I dream I’m motivated. Nobody’s mad at me. In fact, I get a lot of apologies. I’m hardly working at all, and yet I’m still the best in the world at what I do. 

    More importantly, though, I dream of having friends. Actual friends; not a million acquaintances. They’re all a bit stereotypical and out-of-the-box sitcom-like, but that’s okay; these friends know me.

     The best dreams, though, are the ones where he’s back. We’ll sit and play video games. He’ll get mad, curse, scream (and so will I). We’ll be at work, slacking off in the basement. He’ll make fun of me, or do one of his famous impressions. Maybe he’ll draw a picture of a fish combined with a lamp, and name it a “Lampalafish”. 

     Sometimes we’ll just talk. I’ll ask him why he did it. He’ll rub the marks on his neck and apologize. He'll tell me he’s sorry for making me love him so much. He’ll tell me that he’s sorry that I worked so hard to help him, only to have him abandon me. For making me realize how terrible and unfair the world is. He’ll say he wasn’t thinking, and it was irrational. He’ll tell me he’ll never leave me again. For that one instant I am perfectly happy. For one instant, everything in the universe feels balanced and controlled. I feel powerful, like I can do anything.

“Sorry, Mista Marla, I’ll never leave you again.”

Then I wake up.
I’m confused. I wonder where he is.
I look at my tear-stained pillow and realize it was just a dream.Again. It was all just in a dream.

    Just in a dream. 

    I don’t dream about adventure or gaining super powers. I don’t fantasize about silly things that appeal to me… I guess it’s just that I don’t want those things anymore. I don’t care about those things. I just want my best friend back. I want to know everything going to be okay. 

   I wake up, and nothing is okay. I don’t really think anything ever will be.