#55 I dreamt of my dad

I dreamt of my dad.

He looked wet as if he was in the rain.

 

He was in front of the door, and I was surprised to see him here.

He’s been dead for several years.

 

Two years or three years or more. I never count.

I remember it was a holiday. Everyone was celebrating Taiwan’s birthday.

I was in the hospital. My dad lay on the ward bed. 

His heart stopped beating.

I was holding his hand, and we were waiting.

Waiting for someone to drive him home.

 

“Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know. I need to take a shower. I need to change clothes.”

He walked straight to the bathroom.

 

Is it okay for him to be here?

 I’m not devoted to any religions, but won’t any of Gods feel pissed off?

 

I have hundreds of questions in my mind while he’s showering.

 

Can he still be my father? Does he need a new identity?

Is he dead or alive? Which world does he belong to?

His name has been removed from our household certificate.

Maybe the government would think we cheated them.

 

However, he’s right here. 

I can see him. I can touch him. I can hear him.

 

Then I woke up.

I hope he won’t get punished for getting lost in my dream.