I know I was dreaming. Yet the surrounding was too real. The picture library was filled with maids as they wiped the portraits one by one. The others were decorating the stairs and the railings with Christmas ornaments. I could hear the faint sound of Christmas songs as the maids sang along to it. I looked at my state and I was barefoot, wearing a white dress. I looked like I'm about to go to the afterlife with my get up. And when I think about it, I think I might be in the afterlife after all. Or this may be a dream. This can't be real. I know because I can't be seeing my father chuckling as he watched the Knights put the decorations on the chandelier. He's supposed to be dead.
I was about to call him but then halted when I realized I don't know what to call him. Do I call him 'father'?
