In the dream dad died and mum was alive and I went to The Frenchman’s house which was our old house in Eastleigh Drive and he was all soft; the old, nice him, and we hugged very gently for a long time and were friends again. It was a nice feeling. But I was devastated about dad. Even though he was still there. He was driving the family van and he was all happy and the sun was shining and I looked at him and said:
“Do you even realise you’re dead?”
And he said “No!” and smiled at me. He looked radiant. It was a family vacation. He and mum shared a knowing grin together and everyone thought I was an idiot for bringing it up.
Then we were back at Eastleigh Drive and The Frenchman was in one of the bedrooms going through the cupboards, sorting out clothes. He was smiling and happy too, and wearing a red cashmere v-neck. Bunny Sister was getting married in the house and I was running around trying to find the right place for the ceremony to occur. We finally settled on an area in front of the fireplace, which we never had at Eastleigh Drive, it was in fact the living room from a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. Bunny Sister was happy. So I went behind the bar and started to mix drinks though I kept bursting into sobs at the knowledge dad was dead. It tore through my body, it burned, the pain. I couldn’t stop thinking – but I’ll never hear his laugh again! I’m going to miss his sense of humour so much! And then, there he was at the bar, asking for a soft drink.
“Dad!” I scolded. And he smiled at me and took the drink went to join the party.
I was losing my mind. People were annoyed at me and embarrassed about my outbursts.
“Pull yourself together,” they kept saying, “For goodness sakes. Stop showing off.”
But I wasn’t showing off, I was gutted.
But the hug from The Frenchman lingered, it was a warm feeling. His mum was there too, and she liked me.
|Gregory Crewdson 'Untitled'|