Funeral + Feathers

When I die assuming I am cremated against my wishes please send my urn into a thunder storm. Let lightning shatter the vessel. Strap balloons of a single color to the handles and let the balloons uplift me as an offering. One life, paid in full, no outstanding dues. If there should be outstanding dues, give those carrying them to opportunity applaud first, bow towards my incompleteness they now have to live with. Then let the electric organ play to match the storm, drone on and on with the building of the clouds, ideally in a deep blue or purple. When the crowd shutters and the rain begins its spatter be sure to acknowledge the low pressure system. Encourage anyone who may have a short sentence to say to blurt it out, to talk over one another to say what they feel they need to say of me. Do not turn down the organ music. When lightning finally strikes the urn and my dust is returned to dust, hopefully someone gasps aloud as I imagine I did when meeting death.

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My dreams have been getting weirder and weirder lately.

Feathers are pouring out of your mouth.
White billowing waves of feathers emptying from between our teeth in complete silence.
I am asking you to give it a rest but you just look at me unblinking. Feathers and more feathers.