Yesterday morning, slipping in and out of sleep, I had a dream about my father.
I was at a party hosted by one of my mother’s dear friends who died 9 years ago. Walking around, looking for someone I knew I ran into him. He looked really good, a youngish version of himself. I reached to hug him and began to cry, really sobbing. I think I thought my mom was dead and here we were at her best friend’s party.
Soon after I awoke and remembered that my mom is alive and it is my dad who is dead.
I think this is only my second dream about my father since he died three years ago. The first was in November and was one of those profound life changing dreams where I saw things I had never been able to see about my relationship with him and my life in general. I need to write about it, but I am resisting.
I am telling you this instead.
But now I am going to logout and obey.
Just typed out over two pages of notes – a good start.
Would love to read it. I wanted to hear about that dream on the morning that you mentioned it to your sister, but a child must have cried or something, and I forgot to ask you about it again.