I finally had a dream about my dad the other night. I've been waiting. But it seems, after thinking about the dream, he's not quite in focus yet.
The only way I could see him in the dream is by refection: in a pane of glass, in a mirror, through a digital camera. When I would look with my eyes, he would be gone, but still present.
I could hear him. He was whistling and talking to my sister's bird, a cockateil. My mom was there too. She knew dad was there and was surprised I couldn't see him. She has a few stories of the TV being on when she walked into the bedroom and his leather chair making noise, as if someone got up recently from it.
It was frustrating, to say the least.
I remember when my grandmother passed. She invited me to tea in a dream and I made the climb up through many doors and ladders to a quite lil attic. There she was, sitting at a quaint lil table with her tea cups, steaming hot.
"There you are...I've been waiting for you to visit!", she grinned with her crooked smile. I sat across from her and in the dream we chatted and chatted. I can't remember what we said, or if any of the words were real. But then it was time for me to 'return' and I woke with the most peaceful and warm feeling.
Strange for me, as almost every morning I thrash awake with frustration creasing my brow and anxiety pulsating my heart to a fevered beat.
Dream interpreters will tell you that going through multiple doors and upwards is a way of traveling to a plane where you can converse with folks on the 'other side'.
That seems to be true for me.
There were no doors in my dad's dream. No ladders or upward motion. Maybe it was just a nod that he's around and will get to me in good time. I mean....it really is true for him that every day is a Saturday. So he's in no rush.
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