Day 17: write about your dreams

I've always thought that dreams were significant. When I was a kid I dreamed all sorts of bizarre things. I dreamed I died so many times. I dreamed I felt myself die; I dreamed I had already died and what I did later. I dreamed I couldn't die. I have dreamed probably a hundred times that I was going to drown but I realized I could breath underwater.

As time goes on my dreams seem to get more and more mundane. 

That is until this past year. 

My grandmother died a year ago. From the day she died until 2 months later I had 4-5 dreams a week with her in them. The weird thing is that for a few of those dreams, they were continuations of dreams my little sister was having. She was wearing the same thing and everything. 

I dreamed that I was in her kitchen and she said I had to go bc I would be late for work. I was late for work. I dreamed she cooked food. I dreamed she had comfy socks. I often wonder if I've glanced into "her heaven". I hope so.