It wasn't much different from my other dreams. I was having a bad day: I'd done stupid stuff, shown poor judgement, nothing new really. And then, I saw dad following ma into the kitchen. He looked blurred, only a little, and I told myself it was just my imagination. But he felt solid enough when I grabbed his arm, and so I threw myself into his arms and cried.
The next few days, I held on to that dream when I felt lonely; it had been too long since he’d actually held me, and the dream felt more real than memories. Now that dream's faded too, and again, I am left with wisps.
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