after posting about the mom-dream i had, marty reminded me of the first dream she had about her father after he passed. the dream took place, fittingly, at her childhood home and around their long kitchen table. this table, like many home's dining tables, serves as a social epicenter and usually supports many competing conversations. after laughing at the thread of conversation she was tracking, marty looked across the table to see her parents sitting side by side. her mother smiling and commenting on one of the discussions and her father sitting quietly with his hands folded in front of him as he mostly did amidst such familial mayhem. as marty's gaze returned to the table she paused and looked back at her father. he was looking at her. she softly said to him alone, "dad, how are you here? you're dead." he just smiled at her coyly in a way she described as "that mischievous grin he'd always do". while processing the moment and that smile she knew so well and long, marty woke with tears in her eyes.