Jan. 30th, 2017

smokingboot: (dreams)
I saw Dad for a split second last night.

He appeared in the most cliched way, out of the mist. He was standing on a wooden quay next to a little moored boat and he looked at me, his expression serious. The trouble with these things is that once the picture is there, the mind starts creating a story/conversation, possible extrapolations, the kind of thing he might say. So I put that to one side.

But this is the second time I have seen him in my minds eye, as opposed to a memory.

Next time I shall be more Hamlet-like, though cheerful having no Elsinore to baffle me. But like Hamlet, if he speaks, how do I know it's not just me talking?

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smokingboot

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