I had an extremely vivid dream last night of my grandmother’s house at Christmas Eve like when I was a boy, when all the Swedes in the family (and us few Irish bugs—of course it turns out more of the family is Irish than previously thought, hello Co. Antrim) would gather for a smorgasbord and gift exchange.
All the old folks who are gone now were there in the dream, but only some of us in the dream could see and interact with the dead, which was odd, even by dream standards.
The dream even had the smell of my grandmother’s house. She and I spoke for a while, and I saw my grandfather, but I can’t remember what we said.
I miss them both terribly this time of year.
Dammit brain, you can go suck eggs.