My every visit to dad’s mausoleum connotes blessings. Unexpected, overwhelming miracles that paralyzes my emotion. The first was on the half May and now is the next! But sorry to keep these blessings private.
Last month, I dream t my father was frowning inside his casket. Talking with Jacky (my witchy angelic ally), I found out what my dream foretells. My father is worrying for me. Yes, I could feel that. His already 5 years in the city of God, but we are still attached through our spirits. I could still hear his advices. His laugh, I terribly missed. There is no moment that I want him alive. I want to share him my plans, my life, my love life. When I’m sad, a spirit to spirit cuddle with him eases me. When I sob, I converse with him. Eerie but sweet.
If only his alive, I will teach him how to play Farm town and Farmville. I would bring him to Boracay for Jet Ski unlimited, zorb escapade and a wind down with ouzo and gorgeous yorgos. We will call a cab. A yellow cab. Will crave for Mongolian barbecue and crepes and nachos!
But these are unfeasible.
He knows it. That I have so many dreams. So he told me to go on because for him, there is no income tax in dreaming. He doesn’t know his part of it.
And now, he kept on watching over me through touching the people he knew, could unravel, my sticky state.
His a true father in mud and air.
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