Smoking With My Dead Father

Standing under the street lamp on the corner of Past and Future street my father stood smiling, and smoking. He always smiled. I'd never seen him smoke though knew occasionally he would. It was late evening, and he had died so many long years before, but I heard him calling so I went to see. He was dressed impeccably 1940's style. So young, handsome and alive. I knew he was dead; and I knew he was right here beside me. We stood in the light just us two. I can't recall what words passed, but we smoked and joked, laughed and lived, there in the moment in that little bit of light shining through the night. When I awoke the sun was just coming up peekinginto my small glass window saying, 'Rise and shine'. I heard it calling so I went to see.