I dreamt my dad was joking and that he wwas alive and that the docs got it wrong.
We had a great time saying hello again and did lots of stuff that we never got to do. He was better too. Whatever the docs did to make him alive cured all his illness and he could move about normally and was in no pain. He had no parkinsons either.
It was fantastic. We went to Zoo's art galleries. He came and saw my work at the local library. I showed him how to do wire work with beads etc. It was fantastic.
I felt great.
Then Mark got up for work and i realised it was just a dream. How could i believe it anyway. He could never come back to life and be cured.
My day has started off confusing as part of me is glad i had the dream as it was nice but part of me is sad as its not true.
I thought things were sorting but grief is a confusing state of affairs. It forever changes each moment of the day, each second is different.