It’s that dream again. Everyone in black, a casket at the end of the aisle. The song that I had always wanted played at my funeral. The end… The songwriter’s dead…The blade fell upon him… Taking him to the White Lands of Empathica… Of Innocence... My friends sitting on the left, in the first row, my family on the right, mirroring my friends. Only this time, there is one less at my funeral. My mother. She knew of the choices I’ve made in my life, wasn’t proud of them, wasn’t one-hundred-percent