So life went on. I went to school, hung out with my friends, and still had my reocurring dream. Then one night the dream changed. Instead of at the funeral, I was walking to the graveyard. As I crossed the park, I saw headlights flash. I heard squealing tires, and then blacked out. I had been run over obviously. I woke up in a cold sweat, horrified by my dream. I then knew what I had to do; visit the grave. Alone.

I headed out, starting on the vast expanse of our public park. To my relief, there were no cars out tonight. Just me and the trees. And that stray cat over there. The black one. Shuddering, I walked on. I crossed shadow after shadow, until I saw tombstones in the distance. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I had made it in one piece. I walked familiarly down the beaten path me and my family had walked on for the past couple months. I finally got to the plot of land where my father was buried.