The tree of life and a dream about death Straddling the ridge of the roof, my dad stretched to cut the top of a dead tree with a saw. I was on the ground, holding the ends of a rope looped around the trunk. Once cut, I was to pull the tree away from the house. This was late February. My mom died the week prior. No longer a tree of life, my dad was afraid that this dead thing might bring the house down. The night before this, I dreamt about a gnarly and squat living tree. In the dream, I dangled from a branch that ran parallel to…