A Dream

I had a dream that my father died. On a ship. My mother was with him but she survived. Barely a scratch on her. But he was dead. I remember receiving a photo on my cellphone from my sister of a series of photos - only two that I remember. The first one was of my father. He was in a suit. Well-dressed. But he was dead. It was from what looked like a ventilation system. He was inside, his body crouched. The viewpoint was from inside the vent system with the crown of his head facing the camera. The other picture was of my mother and her friend. The aftermath. She was looking at the camera with her friend. Both of their eyes were red, saying everything they could not. About how much they missed him. Even if he alienated everyone and complained about everything. We missed him. And I woke up, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. It was a dream, but it was everything I could not say.

When I danced in my room, I thought about this. What it felt like. The two photos that I remember. The one of my father. The one of my mother and her friend. And I tell myself that "Everything is Not Lost". I keep dancing, moving ever so slightly. But my moves lack what I want to communicate. Which is something that I cannot explain, cannot formulate. I am limited by the skill of language, by my body, by my movements. "Everything is Not Lost". So the song goes. So I move. So I begin to sing, looking at myself contorting. The next song comes on. "Life is for Living". And it was like a conversation I was having. Was it with my father? Was it with myself? I don't know. Does it matter? I try to leave but the song keeps on playing in its one-minute entirety. "My heart just aches when I think of...the things I shouldn't have said." What about all these things I couldn't say?