A few week's ago, I had this magical dream about my father.

I was walking down a country road with one of my cousins, and when we got to the end of the road, in the long grass, were thousands of poems, photos, letters to loved ones, and I realized it was a memorial site.

Then, out of no where, my mother showed up and is standing next to my cousin, and she reaches into the long grass and pulls out a photograph of my father at Christmastime. He is young. It's a black and white photo. And he's wearing a Santa hat and a mischievous smile.

I turn away from the picture, and my father is there, sitting in front of me, in a chair in the long grass, and he looks so happy, and I run to him and put my arms around his neck and tell him how much I missed him and that I was so happy to see him again.

But, like all my other dreams, he can't stay. And I realize he's gone.

It's been almost 10 years since I lost my dad. My dreams about him feel so real to me. My dad comes to me in my dream. To comfort me. To let me know he's still here.

Do you have a dream you'd like to share? I don't know about you, but when I have dreams about my dad, they are memorable.