Last night I dreamed about Dad.
In my dream he was really sick, dying, but we were taking him home.
I dreamed we stopped along the way, at this secluded place in the mountains. We climbed up into this huge tree. Bigger than any tree that ever grew anywhere but in dreams. Parts of the trunk were hollowed out, and we sat in one of the hollows way up high in the sky and looked out through the branches and into the sunset. It was very beautiful, and very peaceful. Of course, Dad wanted to go out onto one of the branches, but I don't like heights, so I talked him into staying in the trunk so we could have a hot dog roast. That's what he wanted, to roast some hot dogs. Of course. I was worried it would upset his stomach, but I figured it wouldn't matter since he was so sick and would be gone soon anyways.
I don't remember much else, but I remember building the fire, and him telling me to make sure to pile the wood right so the fire could get air. And I remember holding him up so he could roast his hot dog, one last hot dog for the road. And I remember resting my cheek on his head while I held him up, and the feel of his fuzzy hair against my face.
I miss him so much.