Sitting in the back of his old Mercedes

Sitting in the back of his old Mercedes, I felt about five again. Children were seen but not heard, we were told. Nicholas sat beside me, holding a pink egg shaped birthday cake. We didn’t speak we just stared at the tar glinting in the night headlights. We were driving somewhere, somewhere fast must have been late for something. She was upset and looked uncomfortable I wasn’t sure why and couldn’t ask, I was afraid to speak. I haven’t dream't about him in a long time, he never speaks in my dreams, but his presence is frightfully heavy.