This is a dream, isn't it? I am still under the spirit of the vodka I drank last night, because there is no way in hell that this is reality and my dead brother is standing in front of me with that smile of his. There is no way that is possible when I saw with my own eyes how life left his eyes and how he laid in the coffin.
In my desperation to wake myself up, I started to slap myself hard enough to wake myself up, but the pain it caused, made my eyes tear up. "Wake up, you drunkard! Wake the hell up!"
Instead of supposedly cold hands, warm hands stopped me from slapping myself awake. "Kilt, this is really me. You are not dreaming, brother. I'm very much alive." There he was again, the man with my brother's voice and face said.
I turned around abruptly to point my finger at him in d
