The vision was beautiful. Who can say where such things come from?
The tent was reminiscent of childhood camping trips, and the man was my father. He stood in the center of the tent with his hand on the pole in the center. I remember him telling me when I was little not to touch the pole when there was lightning. Always the one to watch over us, I wasn’t surprised that he was standing and my other aunts and uncles were sitting quietly.
“You made it!” he said. That would have been my line if he hadn’t beat me to it. My dad passed last April and the afterlife is never far from my thoughts. One moment I was reclined on my couch recovering from the office virus, listening to a gentle rain recording, and the next moment I was in my father’s presence.
Most things about the supernatural can never be explained. Was this an actual vision, a gift from God or the creative mind at work? It doesn’t matter, really. What I experienced was transcendent and comforting.