Some background info:
I met a boy named Tate in the city a few years ago. I was about 17 and he was 20. I was completely amazed by him, it was like we had a connection or something. The next week I saw him again and we spoke. We got on really well and started hanging out. He was the most amazing boy I had ever met. He took me to dinner and bought me stuff. Then it turns out his mum is my auntie’s best friend and she told my mum he was a heroin addict. I had never seen him shooting up or strung out and his mum even said he had stopped using most of the time we were together.
We had a misunderstanding one night and everything we had ended. I missed him heaps but got on with my life. Along the grape vine I heard he was using again. A few years later I had to call him. I don’t know why but it was something I had to do. On the phone we chatted and he said he’d call me when he came home. He did and we met and sat in a park for ages. I felt this uncontrolable bond with him yet we had nothing to talk about. After that he called me for our birthdays, his is on the same day as mine (22nd March), and that is the last time I heard from him.
Then last night I had this dream that was so real it left me feeling uneasy all day. I had a dream that Tate died of an overdose and no one told me and I was really angry at myself for not sending his birthday card with a short letter to him before he died. I would be so happy if you could tell me what it means. Tate is the only person in the world I have ever felt such a strong bond with. It is different than love, I don’t know what it is. Thank you so much.