Sometimes I dream about my dad

PT version I have many dreams, but few leave a mark on my memory. Nightmares are usually easier to remember, maybe because of the desperation and fear that wakes me and continue to haunt me while I’m awake. That’s why I never remember when I dream about my dad. All that remains of my dreams are fragments and the vague sensation of his presence. I wake up thinking he’s still here, a remnant of my illusions and then, suddenly, reality hits me. It will soon be ten years. Soon I’ll have lived longer without him than with him. Sometimes it’s as if he never left, other times, it’s as if he had gone on a long trip and returned. Like the trips he used to take to the countryside to visit family in Crato. Grief is a funny thing; a part of me still expects him to come back. Better also. Even with few memories, I know the father in my dreams is better, kinder. Who knows? Maybe he’s paying a visit? His spirit, now at rest and more loving in death, wanting to look after me in some way? We weren’t…