My father died right before Thanksgiving last year. I have been dreaming of him regularly since then. I sometimes wonder (not a theological question) if his presence beyond the physical realm is more powerful now than when he was fettered by his dementia.
The other night I had a vivid dream that I was in the hospital giving birth and it was footling breech. Alan Alda was my doctor (the older incarnation of Alan; he wasn't in uniform a la M*A*S*H!). Anyway, all these people from my family were there outside my room, sitting around eating cookies and drinking coffee. There were living members (like my mom and sister), and departed, like my dad and my two brothers, Craig and Randy. My uncles Barry and Wayne were there too. It was a veritable Spahr family reunion of men.
I specifically remember that in the dream, Randy got up and helped me into a more comfortable chair. And also, that my husband was already talking about having another baby, which I think might have made me dreamily murderous in the moment.
I've had so many intense and easily remembered dreams since the fire in June. Many of them include my dad. It's nice to feel that he's close, even if it's only in a dream state.
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