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Hi Manchal. everyone. My father passed away almost 20 years ago (my mother as a child) so I’m used to dreaming about him, especially as I’m living in my childhood home, the house he built from scratch, so he can’t be far. He knew his grandchildren were going to grow up here, I’m still here, so of course he is also somehow. Whenever I dream of him, my childhood, it’s like time stands still, I picture everything the way it was growing up myself. Hey, my old bedroom became my sons, walls have many stories to tell, yes. I tried to sleep there one night, but my cat totally freaked out so I returned to my own bed, only to have the most vivid moment, I could hear, smell, touch my son. He was still warm, I kissed his forehead and he opened his eyes. They were like a bright yellow, rather than hazel, and I ask him why, and he replies, mum, it’s because I feel lighter… I do believe him, but I feel heavier xx