Fragility of it all

A few years back, I had a dream.

We were running in that dream. My family. Running from an unspeakable horror that took the form of a monster. We were running amidst a heavily packed subway station and the monster was just chasing and chasing and chasing.

I always get plenty of dreams in which I ran. Those were exciting dreams really because in those dreams, I'll be running and running from something and evading that thing by switching my route here and there and climbing up here and there and then twisting here and there and sneaking thru here and there. Those were adrenaline pumping because throughout those dreams, I'll never get caught and all I had to do was to run and find a place to hide. But this dream was different.

My family was running with me. All of us. Thru this huge, huge crowd of people. And what was different in this dream was that this time I was really, really afraid of that monster. He was scary and he was coming to get us.

I can still vaguely remember that in that dream, my father decided to stop that monster. He stood in the middle of the path and gave us time to run. To run away from that fearful abomination.

I lost track of what happened next but I woke up crying. Crying relentlessly with eyes puffed up and the blanket wet. Because before I awoke, I knew that my father had died trying to protect us. Even as I woke up, I felt such unbearable grief. Grief that knew no ends, that knew no boundaries to how it overshadow my emotions.

And then the relief that usually comes after one realises that it is a dream. That could have been listed in the top ten reliefs that I've felt in my life. It was comforting and I allowed a few moments for that relief to wash over me to cradle me and acknowledge to me that my father is alive.

Death can rip apart the fabric of existance. Grief and pain. Grief and pain. For it bring such tears. Such tears.

It was a dream yes. But I did feel that pain for that moment. And I hated it. Every cell in me detests the grief. Abhorred by what it means.

So my friend, I send to you heartfelt condolences with a message that I have a very, very, very small understanding of what it is like(it was only a minute momentary grief that in itself was unbearable and still has yet to be compared to the possibilities of what you could be feeling right now). I offer you sincerely my deepest symphaties with sincerity.

Life, the fragility of it all, has a path that neither you nor I will understand. Perhaps it is not up to us to fathom but for us to make best what we can.