I'm not invincible, but I would take a bullet for you

[descartes_rock]

In my dream, I am walking through my parents' backyard. It's fall, and I see my father by the back fence raking the leaves. It's a dusky, sombre kind of day, and everything, including my father, seems slowed down almost to stillness. Some things are always the same I think -- my father with his rake in my childhood backyard. But almost in the same moment I realize that everything is finite -- the yard, the house, even my father. Suddenly I need to stop and talk to him, so I go over and say a few words. The words themselves aren't important, nor is my father's reply -- and so they are lost to me almost as soon as they are spoken. It's the closeness that matters.

My father died in 1996, and I can't say that raking was something he did much.

And later in the dream... "He's not invincible, but he could take a bullet."

I'm not invincible, but I would take a bullet for you.