The smell... that suffocating sickening smell of stale cigarettes - I don't dare to breathe it in - my insides revolt.
This is how my dad used to smell, the stale smell and alcohol - seeping out the pores of his body, I think. The smell of aftershave not very effective at covering it up. I think it made it worse.
Sniff, sniff... upon awakening I swear I could smell the lingering smell. Sniff, sniff - no, it was a dream.
A dream that felt so real. My dad is no longer with us but it felt like I had just had a long, intense discussion with him.
I remember I asked him, "what did I need to learn from you, what did you have to teach me?"... and he said "compassion"... "But I have compassion" I answered.... because I do - in fact, I think I have too much compassion...
"No" he replied, "not for other people, but compassion for yourself"...
Huh. ok, lemme think about it.
