your questions are always rhetorical.
It's funny. I'm sat here typing away and I have my dads ashes literally 5 feet away from me in a plastic bucket (it's just co-incidence). As I look at them, I see my dad's ashes in a plastic bucket. Funny that. How reality merges with hyper-reality, or indeed with reality itself. 'Yawn'.
Being sprinkled, and we are talking here about being sprinkled with little dots of symbolic grey dust at a moment of ecstacy here... wouldn't inspire me to convulse with TVAM like revulsion, but could, perhaps, clothe me in a more deeper moment. Possibly. Becausehe/she would have, maybe, just maybe, have wanted to be there too. And in that madness... that gloriuous never to be forgotton type madness, I couldn't have given a shit if all the ashes of merseyside got tipped on top of me ffrom a JC fucking B. I'd have probably revelled in it.