It’s
no secret people have thought of dreams as a way to your subconscious and a
gateway for things outside this physical world to pay visit to ones left
behind. Even in the Bible itself there
are plenty of examples of how saints and prophets had some divine intervention
through their very own dreamland. Native
Americans have thought of dreams as a way to connect to mother earth and use
them and analyze them as a way for guidance towards life altering decisions and
actions. As for myself, I have had some
dreams about my dad; one of which was within the week leading up to this past patriarchal
day. Having dreamt about my dad before
this recent dream I found it peculiar that it wasn’t surrounded around my dad
visiting me in my dreams. He was more
like a commercial break if you will.
Nevertheless I do remember distinctly my dad in the dream. Please understand as I’ve gotten older, I
dream less. Yet since my dad’s passing I
have had a few clear and distinct dreams about him; some of which were haunting
and gruesome and two that have been very peaceful and sweet that leave me
simmering in his presence.
While
fast asleep some nights ago I found myself in a dream that involved my younger
brother and another friend – who will remain nameless. Now I couldn’t tell you specifics of the dream,
why my brother was there or why my friend was in the dream, or how the three of
us interacted in the dream, BUT I do distinctly remember my dad briefly in the
dream, and before the dream continued, again not remembering specifics of the
rest of the dream; just that my brother was there and my friend was there. In that brief moment of clarity, I was
walking into my brother’s bedroom, when out of my peripheral I noticed someone
sitting. Upon glancing to see who it
was, I yelled “DAD” in shock as my eyes fell on my father: healthy, peaceful,
content and happy. I instantly fall to
my father’s knees, bury my face in his lap and wrap my hands and arms around
his sitting waist as he laid his hands on my back in comfort. What he spoke was simple and short (as most
of the time it is); truly a man of few words.
“Live your life.”
And with that I got up, the clarity of that moment
passed, and the hazy dream went on. The
last specific thing I remember was after getting up and walking towards my
brother (as I originally intended to do in the dream), I looked back to get
another look of my dad, but he had gone; and on I went.
Now normally, since having dreams about my dad, I’ll
wake up and instantly remember I had dreamed about him, and the bittersweet
emotions typically follow. But this
time, he wasn’t my first thought after opening my eyes to morning sunbeams. It
wasn’t until I set my coffee maker that his memory in the dream caught up to
me, as did the tears. What got me the
most about this particular dream was a couple of things. One: he wasn’t the main focus of the dream;
he wasn’t the majority of the dream; he was simply part of the dream – like
that quick commercial break if you will.
Two: the fact that even though most of the time in the dream wasn’t him,
he was the only moment of clarity. Sure,
I can name two other people in the dream, but specifics – nope! Three: and most
obviously his line to me, “live your life.” It’s a line I’ve both been striving and struggling
to do.
In one sense, I continue to work towards a goal of
going back to school beyond my bachelor’s degree. In fact, I have an entry exam morning set in
less than a month’s time. In another
sense I’ve continued with interests and hobbies like salsa dancing, running, writing,
and beading to name just a few.
Professionally, I’ve invested myself more in my work place, and taken on
several roles at the school I teach at. Personally,
I’ve made some summer travel plans to return to Philadelphia for a week in
August and take advantage of some quality time with some quality friends out
there; and more so I look towards some international travel plans in the near
future. More personally, I’ve widened my
circle of friends up to new people and others I simply looked at as acquaintances
I can now call friends; heck I’ve even dated a bit since my dad passed. So by every appearance, I am indeed living my
life. Then that feeling is contrasted
with the unpredictable emotions of sheer grief.
And when those moments come, despite every effort of mine to suppress
them, I cannot.
It gets the better of me when I have a couple of
close friends over at my place, and in friendly conversation I have to get up
to do the dishes (anything to move and stay busy) before slamming things as the
tears follow. Or when I’m feeling particularly sensitive and needy and it comes
out through heightened tensions with a friend, and the conversation ends with
fingers pointed, tears and frustrations.
This whole grieving process has an annoying way of making me A LOT more
sensitive to anything and everything, and A LOT more needy. Surly, I gotta give it up to some key players
– i.e. close friends – who are pulling up their sleeves and getting their hands
dirty with me.
It gets the better of me when on a socially packed
Memorial Day Weekend – as I was invited to a graduation party, a dual birthday party,
and an anniversary party three nights in a row – I decide to bow out by 10 in
the evening each time, because I can’t get my energy level even half way to the
level of everyone else’s.
It gets the better of me most times I go home and
spend time with my mother and as we talk about my dad, emotions are evoked.
And it gets the better of me when I don’t have my
father on Father’s Day – certainly it got the better of me then!
I
suppose the fact that Father’s Day was yesterday has some prompting to this
reflection, and perhaps more so to the content of this post. Like all the “first” holidays and birthdays
following my dad’s death on September 3rd they are emotionally taxing. Yet for some reason, I told myself it would
be different for Father’s Day. Maybe
it’s because I’m tired of the heavy emotions associated with my dad’s absence,
and perhaps I envy those around me who actually feel happy on special occasions
and holidays, and maybe I miss that part of myself. Whatever the case, I thought to myself, “mind
over matter Barb, you can do this; you can get through another holiday and not
cry because you miss your dad. Just
focus on the beautiful California almost summer weather, just distract yourself
with family, AND distract yourself by telling stories, AND distract yourself by
catching up with family, AND wine, don’t forget that wine, AND put up that
façade of hair, makeup and choice of attire.
You got this Barb.” Well my alter
ego while ready to take on the day, proved to be no match to the reality and
significance of the day, and this first Father’s Day without just that – a
Father.
So
even though I still have my moments when grief grabs and grips me, the simple
line of my dad in this recent dream resonates with me: “live your life.” In this encounter with my dad there is twofold. There is gratitude for one thing; the fact that
my dad came to pay me a visit is comforting.
But more importantly there is that permission I suppose I’ve been
seeking to indeed live my life without the guilt that sometimes follows that I’m
enjoying myself while I “should” be more solemn because my dad isn’t
around to enjoy life with me. This dream, that encounter, has
given me some clarity that I’m not without my dad, but that my dad is in fact
with me in a different kind of presence. Thanks Dad! =)
