Dreaming of Dad

On the last night of my recent family holiday, after a clear sunny day, a huge thunderstorm developed which deluged our tent with water. Throughout the night thunder and lightening crashed around us as I braced myself for emergency evacuation if and when the river we were camping by broke its banks.
During this night I had a long and complex dream that revolved around the wedding party of a couple whose best man I was almost thirty years ago.
It turned out that my father wasn't actually dead. My mother had noticed his arm moving, that was all it took, and he was back with us. Even in the dream I knew this was implausible (we cremated him, I remember doing it), but I went along with it because he was there, large as life, the same as ever. We went to this wedding party which took place partly at a fairground. Dad was not impressed. 'Why are we here?' he asked petulantly, exactly as he would have in life. He didn't really know the couple, so why would he be expected to attend? I looked at him. His trousers were slightly too short, he was dressed as he was in life. The dream went on for hours, or so it seemed.
When I woke up I had to pack the tent in driving rain. There was no time to consider the reason or point of this dream, but it has made me vaguely wish I could have him back for a day or so sometimes.