Finally dreamed about Kelly. The dream was an odd mash-up of "The Big Lebowski" which I watched for the first time in a very long time last night, and a cautionary tale about the perils of skateboarding. There was a running parallel story about a punk rock singer having shattered both knees by trying, like Icarus, to half-pipe too high. But mostly the dream was Kelly taking me to places I had never been to and introducing me to interesting and fun people that she knew. There was never any sense that she was dead. It wasn't acknowledged in the dream at all. We were just walking around and she was showing me her city, rather as she had done six years ago. It was a snap-shot of how our lives might have been. It wasn't sad, it was just lovely to see her again.