awaking to a dream...

I dreamt about a cellar door cracked open and a dim light shining into a dark hallway. I opened the door and I walked down the stairs. Old bare wood stairs, I could feel the grain with my bare feet. I was wearing old jeans and a white t-shirt and I was young. I realized it then as I walked. I realized also that the light drawing me at the bottom was flickering. A candle was burning in the cellar and it's shadows were many and motioned me forward.
I reached the bottom and there, among the cans of paint and nails, the old radio and typewriter, various tools, there sat a small table. The candle was in a dish on that table and my grandfather, whom I hadn't seen in many years, sat in a chair next to it. Rocking back and forth, he wore slippers and a gray robe imported from some asian country. He was eating grapes and offered me one. I took it and put it in my mouth, feeling it's smooth round shape before splitting it in half with my teeth, lengthwise. I savored the soft meat and sweet juice.
Then I smiled at him and he smiled back. "What are you doing here grandpa?" I asked, 'it's cold."
"I was waiting for you," he answered and I realized that I hadn't thought about him for a long time. I looked at his hair, thin and gray and parted at the side. His shoulders, broad and uneven. He seemed thicker than I remembered him being. Maybe younger perhaps as well, but death does that to people.
"You've been waiting a long time haven't you," I said. He nodded, smiling. I said, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," he said. I stood there in the cellar looking at him and felt sad. All the things he didn't see and wouldn't see. I wanted to thank him for everything he said to me and every wet kiss he gave me and the trains and breakfasts. I wanted to tell him that he was the reason for my passions in many ways and that I wanted nothing more than to read every word he ever wrote. I wanted to tell him how many lives I realized he touched and how I wanted to touch people that way. I looked at him and he looked at me and then he spoke: "I am proud of you Pieter. You wondered once to yourself if I would be proud of who you have become, and I am. I wanted to tell you that."
And then he was gone. I stood in the dark cellar by myself and I heard what sounded like raindrops. I looked out the small windows near the ceiling and realized that the world outside was on fire.