The other night (or day, as it may be), I dreamt that father died.
It wasn't so much that I witnessed his death - the news seemed to have been conveyed to me via either the telephone or text message.
I found myself alone at home at that time - but yet the front door was open, with the gate shut.
A bunch of people had gathered outside the gate, clamouring for something, and I found myself hoping they don't breach the gate.
But they somehow did, and they surged in. I try to hide, but instead found my fingertips being pressed against all manner of unknown documents.
Then I woke up.
Later that day, a new funeral popped up at the foot of the neighbouring block of flats.
