Sleeping dreaming.
I went into the nursing home and found my dad smiling and recuperating from a stroke.  He was happy to see me and was relearning to use his left hand with a touch screen tablet device.  It was heart warming.  He was real. He was there.  He was alive.  I felt the warmth of his skin while showing him where to touch the screen to get where he wanted to be.  I heard the sound of his voice when he asked questions and laughed.  He looked good and was doing well.  I felt happy and relieved to see him.  I kinda woke up and thought to myself that I need to call him.  Then reality hit and I realized that he's dead.  He has been for awhile now and I really miss him.  I want to cry.  I want to yell.  I feel sad because I can't publicly mourn due to the wrongs he's done to others.  I won't allow his shame to be theirs anymore.  But still, I want to sit at his grave and chat.  Maybe this was his way of letting me know he is ok.  Finally.