I had a dream in which my father lost both his last female lover, and his last male lover, on the same day.
For some reason, we could, or did not, attend their funerals, but went to their graves. I went first, though I don't know why, and thus knew where to find the gravesites.
There was some sort of fight with my father when I returned home from visiting the graves, and I felt weak. I was lying on the couch - smoking a pipe.
It tasted like exotic berries. And cardamom. I remember thinking that I didn't know what cardamom tasted like.
We drove out to the grave-sites, located in this utopic little garden behind waist-high wrought-iron fencing. We drove there in a Miata.
I think it was mine.
The road to Fiesta Texas was a quiet little lane, like the streets around UTSA when I went there in '97. The cemetery was just off that road, two blocks from Six Flags.
We went in, found the graves, and my father asked me to give him a moment ... of peace.
And we started crying. I hugged him. And then, I woke up.
I felt empty.
