Reality

"So ... this is okay? I mean ... thinking about rats here," Mark asked his boss (while he gestured over). "Yep; totally okay," Dell responded. "Part of the burial arrangements, actually. Good people; ran a big rescue - animals AND humans; need food and water put out at their gravesite in perpetuity. Never seen a rat out here, probably because the cats, dogs, and other things won't have it." "Says here that their son Eric is on point; he's been seen out here frequently," Mark continued. "Yep; let's move on," Dell replied. "Okay, but can I meet Eric? I mean ... how do I know this dude when I see him on the grounds?" Mark pressed (and Dell sighed). Taking his colleague by the elbow, Dell guided him over to the grave of Eric Selby, son of Earl and Marcia Selby (buried nearby). "Eric, this is Mark; Mark, this is Eric; I'm going to wash the bowls tonight - they'll be all set. Have a peaceful rest today." Mark stared and then backed up slowly. "Are you ... are you pulling my leg? Dude, this isn't funny." "No one is laughing," Dell responded softly. "Check the bowls tomorrow and just ... take it in, man. Just take it in." Mark came around in an hour or so; had lots of questions, but accepted there were no answers. There was no convincing way to tell anybody that "reality" plays like a movie, and death is simply an intermission.