I wonder if there are dreams after you die. Maybe it depends on where you go – up or down, so to speak.
About a month ago I had a dream. I was sitting in a hammock with my dad and we were watching the ocean. I could hear the shush of the waves as they washed over the sand, that sort of hypnotic white noise of the sea. The hammock creaked softly as we rocked, and my toes traced a little trench in the warm sand beneath me.
Suddenly the hammock stopped swinging and my dad stood up. He reached for my hand to help me up, and instead of telling him to F--- off (which is what I would have done in real life), I actually took his hand and stood beside him. He began to walk along the shore, and I followed at his side.
After a while he slowly stopped, staring uncomfortably at his bare feet, burrowing his toes in the sand. Clearly he wanted to say something. I watched in silence.