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Mortality

Night before last I dreamed my father died.

Most of the dream was just me alone, wailing. No one comforted me. The crying felt incredibly real, I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe because I was crying so hard. I was bawling unapologetically, and with no one around to hear, why shouldn't I?

In one part of the dream, there was a wake. And dad was in his casket in a black suit and he looked old and gray and shrunken. It was our time to say good bye to him, and some how he was magically alive then, just resting. And my uncle Neepun, whose father died not too long ago, touched my father's hand. Dad's face, which had appeared to be peacefully sleeping before, contorted and lapsed into tears. He grabbed Neepun and hugged him tightly and they cried.

And out of the corner of his eye, he saw me.

That's all I can remember. I woke up hyperventilating, buried myself in Dave's chest, and cried for at least an hour. The whole thing was so real to me that I was afraid to go back to sleep (and didn't intend to, but my tired mind had other ideas) and I was too nervous to call home and talk to him. I am tearing up just thinking of how terrifying the dream was, and how painful, and how I know this nightmare will someday come true. It's killing me. I don't want to live in a world without my family. Again, dreams are dragging things up out of my mind for me to worry and cry about. I don't see how this is doing me any good.

Last night I got myself shitfaced. My sleep was pleasantly dreamless.

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