May the sunlight find your face, even when the rain does fall. And get back on your feet again every time you slip and fall. Keep your heart wide open and always taking in. And even when it’s broken, be strong enough to fix it again.
Even at night I cannot find peace; dreams of things that leave me questioning everything. I wake up feeling ill, stomach acid burns painfully down my esophagus, my head pounding and my eyes heavy, begging for rest. Dreams that repeat themselves are of the ones I despise the most for I cannot understand, or figure out why this dream is haunting me. These dreams are always the most emotional, most upsetting.
Last night, after waking up with a stomach ache and needing a drink I fell back into a restless sleep; Dreams of being in a house, much like the one we lived in before this one. It was a mixture of 100 things and I couldn’t pin point a single detail but that my dad was there. He looked like he did when he was young and healthy, before his illness took away so much. His hair was messy, his mustache was bushy and he was his standing, talking, cursing self, he was the person I grew up with. But, something was different, I knew what had happened. I knew that he was sick, and that magically he got ‘better’. His every move I watched like a hawk, unable to concentrate on anything because I was worried the disease would return. It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once. It was a dream because he was healthy, I got to ‘see’ him the way I knew him growing up, I got to see him smile and laugh and be himself. It was a nightmare because I was tormented knowing this wasn’t ‘real’. He was sitting at a table, in a house I’m unaware of, My dad was there, complaining that he had heartburn and I was convinced he was dying
again. He brushed it off as though it was nothing, just an uncomfortable sensations because of something he ate. I panicked, opened windows and gripped my cellphone as it rang. It was someone telling me my work scheduled and I hung up on them; because my dad could not breath. I ran back into the dining room, to see him still there laughing and fine, talking to my great grandpa Harold. Both of the men that meant the most to me sat there staring at me; i broke down crying and woke up feeling like vomiting.
It was all to real, like i allowed the spirits of those that loved and protected me in by opening that window in that unknown house. I don’t know what any of it means, why I am being visited by the souls of My Dad and My Grandpa. It hurts, its like an annoying reminder that I no longer have the only men that never hurt me in my life… Maybe that’s why they visit me, to remind me that they are still here, that their souls are with me everywhere I go.
Maybe I need to pay more attention to these dreams; maybe they’re trying to teach me or show me something.
I love you Dad, I hope your resting easy; Say Hi to everyone for me.