I'm in a murder mystery. I take absurd, bold actions and gain us some clues, but not the full solution.

That comes at last from my father.

Only he's dead! The murder victim. So how can he tell us, the living? It was my sisters--not my waking ones, but two girls maybe 9 and 13 at most, and usually ignored by everyone as immature--spoiled little princesses. Daddy's girls.

But they insist that our father's ghost came to them and told them who murdered who--and how.

The detectives ignore the kids, assume they're just making it up to keep clinging to their father's memory, till at last the older daughter snaps unsentimentally, "Daddy's dead, not STUPID."

They reluctantly test the ghost testimony--and it proves true.

MORAL (if any):
Always test your ghost.

AFTERWORD

When I dreamed this, I saw it riffed on Hamlet: dad murdered, his ghost fingering the killer to his children alone, and the authorities dismissive--or complicit. But the Shakespearean reference was all I could see; it certainly wasn't be literal, about my own dad, for he was alive and well.

Though he did subtly dismiss his two very bright daughters, my sisters, much as the detectives do in the dream.

Three months later, my dad woke up unable to walk, and soon couldn't move or speak. Guillain-Barré syndrome. He hung on a few months, locked mute in his own body, then died.

This dream in isolation wasn't clearly predictive; yet that year before his death I had a whole storm of dreams of my father, paralysis, muteness, and death.

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