I’ve had a few dreams about my Dad since he died. The first one was a big house party, but a 70’s one, cans of Long Life and thick blue cig smoke. My Dad was there, talking to some other fellas. He even looked like he did in the 70’s, that thick mop of curls and his leather-buttoned cardie. I went up to him, all elated that my Dad was in my dream. “This is the only way I can talk to you now, Dad” I said.
"I know son, I know,"he said.
“What’s it like being dead,” I asked him.
“Well, I wouldn’t get too excited about it,” he replied.
That’s when I knew it was really him in my dream.