So I read an article in the Atlanta Journal Constitution about the dreams of the dying and I thought about Dad.
Dad died a month ago, but for a few months preceding his death, we talked about dreams and otherworldly stuff.
He dreamed about his mother and a picnic and he asked me what I thought the dream meant. And I asked–as I always ask when interpreting dreams–how did you feel in the dream?
In the dream, he felt happy, contented. But upon waking, he was fearful. He thought the dream was about death. Specifically, his death. I rolled my eyes at his overly dramatic assumption, though if I’m being honest, I, too, felt it might have been his mother telling him to get ready. I didn’t want him worrying and fearful, though, so I made light of it.
And then in November, there was that song he kept thinking of–In The Garden–and you know I shared the synchronicity of that event and how, once again, I felt Mom was sending him and me a message.
So when I read the AJC article, it wasn’t news to me. I knew Dad’s own psyche and his many loved ones, had tried to prepare him for what was to come. I’m not sure I was as prepared.
I mean, I’m certain that at long last, he’s with my mom again, and that truly makes me happy. But I’m feeling a tad sorry for myself and missing him terribly.
And so I work. I worked up something for the Chicken Soup for the Soul book on synchronicity and if you have a similar story, I hope you’ll write about it, too. Not because getting in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book is awesome (though it is pretty cool) but because, sometimes, writing those stories can lift the clouds that envelop one’s soul in those darkest moments.
And a sweet dream would be nice, too.
Cathy C. Hall Writes 
I’m sorry for your loss, Cathy. And I believe as you do, that he’s with your mother now. Focusing on that joyful reunion will help with some of your pain.
Interesting that you focus more on how you feel in the dream than on the dream itself. I often have dreams that aren’t necessarily bad//nightmares, but I wake up exhausted and drained from trying to do something, find something, explain something, etc in the dream.
Madeline, I’m a BIG believer in dreams and what they’re telling us. Many years ago, I read a great book–I’m sorry, I can’t remember the title–and it said to always ask yourself how you felt in the dream rather than focusing on weird little details. The feeling you experience is what’s important, or so espoused the author/psychologist, and I’ve found that to be so true!
Life has its tender and touching moments and those that make us wince. Good luck on your story. I am feeling the void as well, missing my parents.
Yes, Linda, Dad was 92 and so like Mom, I had him in my life for a very long time. But that just makes me miss him even more! I think they’re watching over me still, though, as I’m sure yours are as well.
I enjoyed your column, Cathy. It was interesting about the dreams, but I am so very sorry for you loss. I lost my own dad two years ago in November, and it’s just not easy. But it does become less intense as time goes by. I think both of us will always hold our fathers close in our hearts.
Oh, yes, P.J. Whether our dads are here on earth or not, they’re always with us, close in our hearts.
So sorry for your loss, Cathy.
Thanks, Kelly. Hope you’re well!
In honor of your father, I hope your story is accepted! Lovely post!
Well, that would be nice, Tina, but it was cathartic to write that last story, so either way, I’m good. 🙂
This is timely for me, as my mother’s birthday was on Friday and I’ve been missing her more than usual. I don’t know if she had dreams near the time of her death, but I had dreams shortly after her passing, and I have no doubt that she was helping me over the initial grief. I don’t understand any of it, but you won’t hear me disputing it either.
No doubt in my mind, Lisa. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio/Lisa, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Don’t you just love ‘ol Shakespeare? 🙂
Too few times I got to be around Uncle Fret and aunt Marie and my oh so wonderfully funny and loveable Georgia cousins…the love and laughter you all shared will be forever in my heart..you can’t help but miss those two and the love they shared with you . so nice to see the beauty of their lives live on in yours and the words you share…
Oh, thank you, Debbie! Time passes so quickly, doesn’t it? We should get all the cousins together–Georgia and Louisiana–for a big party. Have a little new love and laughter, right? ♥
I’m sorry to hear of your dad’s passing. It’s wonderful that you did get to enjoy him and your mom for so many years, but that can make the grief run deeper. Take care, my friend. I’m sure your dad will be sending you messages in your dreams or in other ways.
Oh, I hope so, Suzanne! Thank you.
Cathy–The last sentence in the second-to-last paragraph is a doozy. Gorgeous and so deep.
I am sorry for your loss. Both my parents are gone, which means I (like you) am the older generation. The one where all the wisdom is supposed to bubble up from.
Perhaps your story WILL be accepted… and if it is, it will surely help others.
Thank you, Sioux. It was time to write that story, for both Mom and Dad. And for me, too, I guess. (I probably should’ve asked you to check it–you’re the CS Queen!) 🙂
I’m sorry Cathy, but thank you for sharing. Oh it is so painful to lose someone. Hope your story gets published.
Thanks, Stacy. Writing helps, doesn’t it? 🙂
Hugs and prayers.
And to you, too, Krysten.
Sorry for your loss, Cathy. My parents have passed on, but they remain with me in heart and mind. I sometimes dream of them and I feel calmed. Wishing you good luck with your story.
Oh, that’s lovely to feel them, Charlotte! Thanks for the luck!
So beautiful, Cathy – thanks for sharing. I am passing along to my hubby, who does work in this area as well. {{hugs}}
Thank you, Robyn. I didn’t know your hubs worked in this field–it’s fascinating, isn’t it?
{{{HUGS}}}, Cathy. I know how it is to loose the ones you hold clostest. I find comfort in writing, like you. Here’s to bluer skies and pleasant dreams.
Thank you, Tracey. I feel better already. 🙂