Dream

I had often heard that the recently dead visit our dreams.

Obviously, I don't believe that. I don't think you can attribute any particular signifigance to dreams. They're just weird mental neuron firings. But that said, I wanted to use the blog to record my mental state in dealing with my fathers death.

I mentioned that I had not exhibited any real grief to any great extent. In my dreams it's different though. A few nights ago for example, I had a rather upsetting dream. I was in a bedroom that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a AOD's room from about 20 years ago. My dad and I were getting into an argument, over something I can't even remember. And it started the way these things usually did. Neither of us were shouting just yet, but each of us was projecting our voices at louder and clearer volumes. It ended with us shouting at each other, and my ultimate rejoinder was along the lines of "What do you know? You're DEAD!!" In the dream, I was quite upset.

It woke me up, as these things sometimes do. My face was dry, and I got back to sleep. And had another dream about my dad. This time, my family were gathered at a crossroads I know, and my father was coming up the hill towards us. He was walking slowly, and dressed in a smart overcoat. When he drew level to us, we knew he was going somewhere, and couldn't stay long. We were all talking at once. My Dad looked sad and nervous. And on some level I remembered he was gone, and the idea occurred to me that he was on his way to judgement. I reached up and straightened his tie, and tried to reassure him that he was a good man. When he left, we stayed at the corner watching him walk away. It was upsetting. He disappeared before he turned the corner and went out of sight.

My sleep patterns over the last few weeks have been erratic. And while I normally remember my dreams easily, there majority of recent nights, I don't remember them. But when I wake, the ever-present loss I feel, is diminished. So I think I'm dreaming about my dad nightly, even if I don't remember it.

I'm still not grieving in my waking hours. It's strange to me. I can go through periods of the day where I don't think about it or him for hours at a time. But then I see something, read something, think of something, and my first inclination is to want to tell my Dad, or to wonder what he'd think of it.

Being a huge fan of cell phone technology, I've got numbers and sim cards for almost a dozen countries. I can't remember the amount of times I could have been just walking along a street, or waiting at an airport, or something, and I'd call my Dad just to chat for a few minutes. Distance was never a factor, I used to tell him. A cell phone meant I was always just in the next room.

Now I carry him with me. And we talk and hug and fight in my dreams.
posted by Manchild at 11:45 PM