I Called 911

I had another dream about my father.

We were working in the garage on one of the cars and it exploded. White sparks flew into the air. He was standing right next to it. I rushed to call 911.

I remember that Tuesday night when I called, it seemed like forever until the ambulance came. My mom was running around the house yelling, "When is 911 coming?!!!!"

One of the scariest moments of my life.

The dream is a blur to me now (I stopped myself from writing it down when I woke up. The pages would have been covered in tears.)

On bended knee, the female paramedic talked my father while he lied in bed. She asked the routine questions they are trained to ask. She said a few words to me too. 


He was still breathing, but not responsive. 

Out of no where, there was two of him. One still alive on his bed and the other dead on the floor.


I know he's gone, but a part of me wants to believe he's coming back home. That he's still in the hospital waiting to be discharged.

I find myself constantly repeating that Tuesday night he was rushed to the hospital, and his last days on Earth.