We were walking up this hill together, mum, dad and I. At one point, even hand in hand. They appeared to be older, at least older than they ever became before in real life.
It seemed to be some kind of temple we were heading for, some kind of sacred temple or burial ground. I walked slowly with them, at points helping them up the steep hill. They smiled at me and we exchanged glances.
We came to this memorial of sorts. There were picture of different people, some really happy looking, other at the end of their life, looking frail and ill. I walked ahead a few steps and stopped in front of a picture of mum.
She sat on the edge of the bed, dressed up beautifully and wrapped with a large grey shawl. She looked so elegant, so delightful. I turned back to see my parents approach. I smiled at them, and gestured for them to look at the picture.
They smiled...
They smiled.
I woke up crying again.
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