Sunday driving through my dreams

It came to me in a dream. A vision, an epiphany of sorts. A recollection of memories of summers past and winters spent shivering under falling snow. Words came and went with the seasons and so did you. You always came back like the budding leaves of spring. Vibrant and full of life, blossoming in my presence.
You appeared in my sleep, a combination of past present and what I thought, or hoped, would be the future.
We traveled those familiar back roads; to the old barn where the horses waited patiently for Macintosh apples we picked fresh from the trees. It was so real; I swear I felt the breeze on my neck, the smell of silage danced in my nose, and the feeling of your skin on mine. Our arms interlocked as Copper took the Apple from my open palm. He always was your favorite horse; you would save him an extra apple, and take special care as you brushed his mane.
Things were so perfect; time was at a stand still as we circled the pond, laughing at the way frogs jump, stating they would make excellent basketball players.
And as quickly as the leaves change in October, you were gone again. I am left here waiting, remembering, and dreaming, of trips to the peninsula, eating onion rings and ice cream and counting clouds in the sky.
Memory, don't fail me now.