The other night I had a dream about my Dad.
Ordinarily, dreams aren’t anything I give a great deal of time and effort to, but this one was significant. They rarely are remembered in the detail with which I was able to recall this dream. Every detail and nuance returned to me the moment I awoke.
My dad has been suffering from a slowly debilitating disease for nigh on twenty years, which in itself attests to his dog-headedness. Recently he had a particularly difficult bout of treatment leaving him weak and tired. It brought home to all of us the true nature of his mortality.
This dream takes place inside a small passenger jet, the size of an American Eagle jet. My dad was a jet fighter pilot when he was younger, so this is significant. I stood behind the second row of seats, which were higher than the seats in an AE plane, and Dad stood in the space leading to the cockpit. Dad was in his thirties, the prime of his life. I faced him and we were visiting when suddenly the section of the plane I stood in started falling away. Panic filled me in an instant. Without a thought, Dad reached over the tops of the seats and grabbed my arms. He fell away from the front of the plane with me.
As the fuselage separated, the floor around my feet began to disappear revealing open space, darkness with blurry orbs of light floating in it. Abject fear coursed through me. I kept praying “Please Lord make this go away. Please put this back together.” We floated for a short time before the floor began to materialize again and the plane itself put itself back together. Then Dad let go of me and walked to the cockpit.
I’m sure this had something to do with his illness and the fear of loosing him. I want him to stay and he will always be my Dad and there is a place I will find him.
I couldn’t say this dream out loud without crying, so I wrote it down.
He is doing so much better today and we are looking forward to many more happy visits. I love you Dad.
I will always find you in my piece of heaven.