Dreaming
It started, or transitioned, at the place I lived in Island bay. To the right of the house was a gazebo, with a firepit in the center and a small burning fire. There was a large cliff face further right, a small beach ahead, and a lagoon. I arrived with some of my family, and some were already there - including my father. It was as if my father had never died, but I was also very aware that he had. I knew this as a dream, and a dream I was determined not to wake from.
I was surprised that the fire felt hot, and that everything felt so real. I hugged my father, and asked him to let me, though I knew he didn't really approve of that stuff. I woke up briefly, but then fell back into the same dream.
My family were sitting around the fire talking. The atmosphere was as it is when my family are together and loss or struggle are not very distant memories. We were all grateful to be there together; we were determined to laugh even though the pain was still raw. But dad sat there quietly, expressionless. I looked at him, taking in every detail of his face. He was younger, his hair not yet grey. His expression was discomfort or sadness or concern or something not quite right. Ashen. I asked him what was wrong - why he wasn't happy. He said there was nothing to do here, or that he was bored, or lonely perhaps. I looked up at the cliff face to our right and asked him why he didn't attempt to climb it - he had loved the outdoors in life. He looked at me like I didn't understand or like what I was proposing wasn't possible, or wasn't desirable.
Next we were all swimming out into the lagoon. My family were all ahead of me and gaining ground, but my father was swimming behind me. I remember not wanting to compare the feel of the water to my memory of water in case it broke the illusion and woke me. But that thought in itself caused me to think about it. It was less like water, and more like a watery gel we were swimming through. At this point I believed we were in some sort of afterlife, and I wondered. Then I sank down into it and woke up.
---
The weather this morning was a lot like it was the night I found out he was dying. It felt as if the wind might blow the house over.
I was surprised that the fire felt hot, and that everything felt so real. I hugged my father, and asked him to let me, though I knew he didn't really approve of that stuff. I woke up briefly, but then fell back into the same dream.
My family were sitting around the fire talking. The atmosphere was as it is when my family are together and loss or struggle are not very distant memories. We were all grateful to be there together; we were determined to laugh even though the pain was still raw. But dad sat there quietly, expressionless. I looked at him, taking in every detail of his face. He was younger, his hair not yet grey. His expression was discomfort or sadness or concern or something not quite right. Ashen. I asked him what was wrong - why he wasn't happy. He said there was nothing to do here, or that he was bored, or lonely perhaps. I looked up at the cliff face to our right and asked him why he didn't attempt to climb it - he had loved the outdoors in life. He looked at me like I didn't understand or like what I was proposing wasn't possible, or wasn't desirable.
Next we were all swimming out into the lagoon. My family were all ahead of me and gaining ground, but my father was swimming behind me. I remember not wanting to compare the feel of the water to my memory of water in case it broke the illusion and woke me. But that thought in itself caused me to think about it. It was less like water, and more like a watery gel we were swimming through. At this point I believed we were in some sort of afterlife, and I wondered. Then I sank down into it and woke up.
---
The weather this morning was a lot like it was the night I found out he was dying. It felt as if the wind might blow the house over.