my father died

i have insane dreams, and i love them. i also love telling people about them, in great detail, which most people hate. and my father really hated it. every time i said "i had this crazy dream last night" he would roll his eyes and say "oh no, here we go...". so in his honour, i will not tell my whole dream from the other night, only the part that matters: my father was alive, but he never appeared. i wanted to talk to him so i would walk into different rooms looking for him, and he was never there. when i woke up, i realised that this is now what my life is. my day is filled with things i would like to say, share, send or show my dad. stupid shit, like that picture of bob dylan with the pope. he would love that and we would laugh about it together. we used to share a lot of music. after his funeral, some of my cousins sent me messages telling me that my father was one of the main reasons they went into music. that he took them to their first concert and introduced them to different…

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