It’s very hard for me to bring my Dad’s voice to mind. This has always been the thing that I missed most about people when they’ve transitioned out of their bodies: their voices. I can only bring my Grandma Handy’s voice to mind with a couple of phrases and even then it’s like hearing it from the other side of a wall. Right after my Dad died, I used to pray and wish and try to make-happen that I would dream about him and that in the dream he would talk to me. It didn’t really work. I didn’t dream about my father until many months had passed since his funeral and even in those dreams he was mischeviously silent. I can now remember a small handful of dreams that I have heard his voice. A couple of days ago I woke up early, sometime as the sun was coming up and beginning to filter onto the trees. I was awake enough to hear his voice very clearly as we were inspecting items in the dream. He was showing them to me. As I woke up enough to banish the dream entirely, he said to me:
“And this, this is a cat’s tooth.”