Seeing you.

I dreamed about you last night.

It was only a fleeting visit. 

You held me. You were well and strong again. You smelled like you again. 

Even in my dream I knew you shouldn’t really be here.

I breathed you in and savoured the moment. 

I told you off, and reminded you what you had said to us. You shouldn’t be here, worrying about us, you should be resting.

You smiled.

You told me you loved me and that I should read your journal entries to remind me of it.

Even in my dream you help me. EditIt’s good advice. It’s a way I have to hear your voice. I think I’ll read them tonight. 

Thanks Dad. 

You are welcome to invade my dreams anytime.

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