After their death, they become a dark moon, quietly descending into the dreams of the last person who still remembers them. They don’t know where they are, only that everything around them feels both familiar and strange. They follow their memories to a stream near their childhood home. The water flows gently and people come and go, but none see them.
This film is a record of my father’s life after the passing of my grandmother. He often walks to the stream or beach near our home, sinking into the memories of his mother. Three years ago, not long after my grandmother passed, my father’s cousin sent us an old video: 8mm film shot by my great-uncle in his youth. In the images were my newborn father, my young grandmother, and a grandfather I had never met.