Fatherly Dreams and Life Changes


It seems that whenever I'm under extreme stress or facing some major life-changing event, I have a dream about my father. To say that I'm under stress right now would be an understatement along the lines of saying that Obama is less than truthful in his speeches.

Last night I dreamed that I was back at home, on the street where I grew up. Not only was my father there, but my entire family was there. And so were many of my old neighbors. For some reason, we were mostly all outside. Many of us were carrying junk out of our houses and piling it up in the street to be hauled away. I've been trying to declutter my office at work in order to get better focused on the major project ahead of me so this is probably where this part of the dream came from.

My father was dressed in his ugly old khaki pants with the high waist and belt that he wore, I think, for my entire life. I almost can't picture him wearing anything else. He was also wearing a light blue button down shirt, like many of the guys I work with do. Dad never wore shirts of color. Every shirt he owned prior to retirement was white. Anyway, Dad was wearing the modern professional white man's uniform, khaki pants and light blue button down, and his old black framed glasses. He wasn't all that old, maybe 50, and in excellent health. That's the way I remember him, I guess, since he didn't have any real health problems until he was well into his '70s. Dad was strong like an ox for most of his life.

For some reason, there was another man there that I have never seen before. He was dressed exactly like Dad and spent most of his time standing around in our driveway talking to Dad. I was hauling stuff out the back door of our house and out to the street, throwing it on the curb in a big pile for the trash men to pick up. We actually did this when my dad died, so it was weird to be reliving the experience while Dad stood and supervised.

Across the street, my best friend and his family were outside doing something very similar. I went over to see them and spent some time talking to them. In reality, I haven't seen most of them in several years, but in my dream it was as if we all still lived together on that street and had never left. I was glad to see them again.

Thanks to social websites like Facebook, I have recently reconnected with neighbors from that street whom I haven't seen face-to-face since I was maybe 6 years old or so. One family moved away to California. I'm sure I was no older than 6 when they left. Talking with the only girl in their family on Facebook, I was surprised when she said "if we could get everyone together for a reunion I would gladly fly in from California just to see everyone." I talked to some people who had graduated high school while I was still in elementary school, but who knew me as the younger brother of someone they were close friends with way back in the dark ages. I was surprised that they would talk to me and glad to hear how things were going in their lives. In my mind I pictured them looking exactly as they had the last time I saw them in person, a very long time ago. The neighborhood reunion is a very real possibility.

I don't dream often, or don't remember them, but I always remember the dreams with my father in them. I know they're only dreams, but they have a huge effect on me. It's weird that I can never hear his voice in them, yet don't notice this until after I have awakened and had time to think about it. My dad keeps getting younger in my dreams. Soon we'll be the same age.

And eventually, I'm going to die, and see him again. Hopefully then I'll be able to talk to him and actually hear what he's saying.

A Visit From The Past

I had a dream about my dad the other night. It's been awhile. I was in my mom and dad's house upstairs in the kitchen. I was facing the sink looking out the window when my dad walked in. He was looking for something, a screwdriver or something.

I don't know what it was.

I turned to look at him and said, "Hi Dad, I haven't seen you in a long time. How'd it going?"

He didn't turn to me, I suppose because he rarely did when he was doing something. Dad had a one track mind. Plus, he was an engineer. So when his one-track-mind was being applied to working on a problem, well, good luck in distracting him.

So I was looking at my dad. His hair on top was black with gray on the sides. And he was wearing his old horn-rimmed glasses. He must have been in his late forties or so. I don't know why I dreamed him at that stage of his life, but there he was, late forties, pulling a screwdriver out of the drawer in the kitchen.

He found the screwdriver and said something to me about trying to fix something, or being busy. Then he headed out of the kitchen. So I followed him, wanting to talk to him.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," I said. "What are you working on?"

"I'm kind of busy," he said, as he started down the stairs. So I went with him.

In all my previous dreams about my dad, he was about the age he was when he died. And he was walking along with me, trying to talk to me while I carried boxes and boxes of stuff to my car, or from my car into my new house which I had just bought in my dream. He was trying to give me advice, like he so enjoyed doing. Only I couldn't hear him. I could see him speaking and I was aware that I was listening, but I couldn't hear any words. I don't know what he was saying. I only know that it seemed important to him to talk to me, perhaps to say "goodbye."

The house I dreamed about moving into, I dreamed long before we found the house we live in now. And when I bought this house, I realized that it was almost the identical house from my dream. It was as if my dad helped me find it and wanted to make sure I bought it. Or perhaps he was warning me not to? I don't know.

Once I bought my new house and moved in, all dreams of my dad stopped. He was just gone. And I began to become increasingly aware of how many things I only ever talked about with him. I had so many things I wanted to tell him, or show him, but he was gone and now I have no one to talk with about any of it.

2 years later and I dream about my dad again, but he's 30 years younger and obviously too busy to talk with me. I'm following him, wanting desperately to talk with him. I can hear him this time. I can hear every word he's saying.

I don't know what my dad was working on. It seemed mighty important to him. If there's anything to dreams and people who have died appearing in your dreams then I'm wondering what was so important that he needed tools and had to run downstairs.

But the main thing I remember from that dream was how everything had gone back to the way it was before, when I was a little kid and he was still a relatively young and healthy man, back when I would follow after him trying to get his attention. It never occurred to me how things had switched around before he died, how he wanted to talk to me, wanted a few minutes of my time to talk, and how I was always so busy and impatient and irritated when he couldn't hear me or understand me because his hearing was going.

I don't know if there's anything to dreams. I don't know if dead people showing up in my dreams has any significance or is simply my memories and imagination combining to make images that make some kind of sense to my brain. I just know it was nice to see my dad again. And I wonder what he was doing that was so important.