I dreamed about my Father last Wednesday night. He passed away in June 2006, and I haven’t heard his voice since then...until that dream.
There is a new gazebo on the prayer walk that runs around the lake near our apartment so Hatch and I stop there often to sit and talk and watch the turtles play on the driftwood in the water. There are now two cranes that have made the lake their home, and this dog loves to bark at them and scare them away.
He is ferocious in his own imagination. So in between barking at the birds and the turtles I told Hatch this story about my dream.
In my dream I was standing in front of my childhood home, but in the dream, Rachel and I lived there. That’s one of those weird twists that happens in dreams, right?
Pop drove into the driveway with his two sisters in his car, who have both been gone for more than forty years. He was driving a green 1950s Chevrolet with fins on the rear quarter panels. (I know that’s oddly specific, but it is what it is.)
After he parked, they all got out of the car and came right up to greet me like you would at a family reunion. It all felt so real, especially when I heard his voice. I forgot how Pop’s voice sounded until he called my name in the dream. It was so good to hear that old man’s voice again. I still miss him everyday.
The years melted away and there we were once again talking in front of his house while standing in his driveway near his two sisters. It was a brief visit, and they didn’t stay long. As quickly as they came, they were gone. That’s a lot like life, huh? One day they’re here and the next they’re not. Every day counts.
Thanks for the visit, Pop, even if it was only in a dream. It was good to hear your voice again.
After I told Hatch the story he asked, “Are you crying because you’re sad or because you’re happy?"
I looked at my dog and said, “Yep.”