Okay, here’s one for the dream analysts, psychotherapists and all my other friends in the blogosphere.

I don’t generally get nightmares. In fact, I can’t remember ever having a true nightmare, even when I’m in a dark mood. I do, occasionally, have some disturbing dreams. But I wouldn’t say my dreams migrate toward the horror genre; they are more action-adventure with a touch of comedy thrown in.

I would also have to say the tone of my dreams have changed. When I was younger, I was right there in the action, battling dragons or ne’er-do-wells or chasing bad guys. There was a time a spandex clad Joe {I told you there was comedy thrown in} jumped from building to building and down hallways chasing the scoundrels without benefit of a cape or spidy aids or a witty sidekick. Now, I’m more sedentary, generally a spectator watching somebody else (my avatar?) do the chasing. Hey, it works for me!

And I don’t generally dream about dead people. Well, I did once, only once did I actually see a recognizable friend or relative in my sleep.

Out of the closet in my room came this dashing young man with wavy hair wearing tan slacks with cuffs on them and a ribbed t-shirt. There was a young blond with a pastel blue dress and bright white apron tending to some flowers. The man smiled and said, “Excuse me, Miss.” At that moment I immediately recognized it was Dad, simply from the inflection of his voice. “Where am I?” The girl turned around and stood up. It was my Mom. “I’m here to take you home,” she said. She took his hand and they turned toward the closet, which now radiated with brightness. They walked in together as a crowd of people gathered around them.

This all happened a couple of years before Dad actually died.

But generally, I never actually see the departed … not even my wife. They may have been in the dream sequence, but they were always seen from behind or assumed to be at my side.

That all changed last month when I had not one, but two distinct dreams with dearly departed in the forefront. I’ll share them with you, along with my commentary based on my Psych 101 experience {notice I didn’t go any further than 101}.

In the first, there was just a little nook of a kitchen. I walked into the room, reached into the fridge for a quart of milk and there sitting in one corner was my Dad. Closest to the door was my Grandmother. And in the other corner was someone I didn’t recognize. The quick snippet included me simply saying Hi, with no response, just a smile and affirming nod from my guests.

I can understand seeing my Dad and to some extent my Grandmother. Dad, of course, died last year, but Grandma died years ago. Why did it take so long to visit with her, albeit such a short visit? Who was that stranger? What connection did he have with Dad and Grandma? Why wasn’t Mom there?

Ah, so many questions, so few answers.

The second — about two weeks later and just before the anniversary of Karen’s death — was bathed in a cloudy, misty sepia hue. We were walking out of a log cabin in the dead {no pun intended} of winter. Naturally, she was a few steps ahead of me … definitely Karen. She was wearing her Cleveland Browns jacket and a kerchief. She decided to walk on the frozen lake to get to wherever we were going. I cautioned her about walking on the ice, but she just yelled back to me she was in a hurry and this would be faster.

Of course as she walked deeper into the lake, the ice cracked and she plunged into the icy water. I immediately took the few steps forward and jumped in myself. I caught her arm as I woke up … soaked to the skin in sweat with the overhead fan giving me chills.

From Psych 101, I know this incident was a manifestation of my feelings of being helpless in saving Karen. After all, we were just days from the fifth anniversary of her death. The combination of the fan and the night sweat contributed to this being a winter adventure.

Those are my latest forays into the paranormal. Maybe someone else has a better explanation.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: If everything appears to be going well, you’ve obviously overlooked something.


About wisdomfromafather

I'm just an ordinary guy walking along the journey of life.
This entry was posted in dreams, family, Memories and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Dreaming

  1. TamrahJo says:

    I dreamed of my Dad nearly a year after he died and about 6 weeks before my oldest son died. In my dream, he is standing in my bedroom and I can tell he is sad and really wants me to understand something – It felt so real and when I awoke, my husband was standing in the room (arriving home after being called out for an emergency) and for a moment, the dream world and real world merged and I thought my Dad was really there. As I awoke fully, and realized the shadowy figure was my husband, I felt a renewal of the pain of grief for the loss of my Dad.

    I share this not to say these nighttime visits portend some kind of doom, but in my own experience, these dreams have always turned out to be either a warning of things to come that I perhaps am missing the daylight signs of, or an attempt to bring to the surface things that need to be healed.

    Whether our loved ones visit when there is extreme need – whether our own brains sometimes get caught up in processing stuff at night we’ve failed to process during the day – or whether our subconscious mind repeats to us those things we have ignored or failed to see during our waking hours, I do not pretend to know for sure.

    But I do know, for me, if I carry a dream with me into the waking world, there is something afoot – and it’s my job to be aware and listen to what I am (or others are) trying to tell me.

    Here’s hoping you discover meaningful answers to the questions your night-time flights are asking you.

  2. mzkoko78 says:

    Just wanted to share that my mom died in 2008 and my dad in 2009. Don’t remember when it started, but it was after they’d passed… I have had more dreams than I can count with my mom in them and we interact as if she was still here. A couple of dreams she was sick (died from cancer), but most, she was well. I’ve had a few of my dad. I am not sure what to make of these. I don’t wake up feeling any particular way other than curious… I’ve gotten used to them now though… I just interact with them like normal. Kind of strange, but comforting.

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