She died that night. Her last breath took her soul, I saw it in my dream. I saw her soul leave her body as she exhaled, and then she had no more needs, no more reason; she was released from her body, and, being released, she continued her journey elsewhere, high in the firmament where soul material gathers and plays out all the dreams and joys of which we temporal beings can barely conceive, all the things what are beyond our comprehension, but even so, are not beyond our attainment if we choose to attain them, and believe that we truly can.
Garth Stein, The Art of Racing in the Rain
death, dreams, release, soul