Work hasn’t been going the best lately and that’s caused my sleeping patterns to get out of sorts. Here lately, I’ll be so worn out from the day that I’ll hit the sack around eight-ish, which means my eyelids will crack open around one-ish. Then I’ll lay there and start to think about work, or start to think about how hungry I am, and then I’ll start to flop. And when I start to flop, neither Sweet Wife nor myself will get any sleep.
So, lately, when the eyes pop open, I’ll stumble into the den, plop on the couch and lay there for a while. I don’t turn on the television or read a book, I just lay there and, usually after a while, sleep will come.
Last Friday night was the same routine. Bed early, eyes open early, stumble to the couch and lay there. I fell back to sleep fairly easily I guess, and then there he was, my dad.
Dreams are weird. You saunter in and out of places and situations, but because you’re in a dream, everything seems so natural. For some reason, in this dream, I was walking along the side of the house where my parents used to live and for some reason I looked into a window. And there he was, my dad. In the next instant, we were locked, arms around each other, in a bear hug. Everything was so real. His smell. The feel of his skin. His breathing. I hugged him for all I had because I knew I was hugging my dad. But in the same instant, I knew this wasn’t real and as quickly as the encounter came, it left and I woke up sobbing with my chest heaving.
Dad’s been in heaven now for over seven years. I guess I think about him in some way everyday. There’s hardly a part of my life that he hasn’t touch in some way and hardly a part of my life where I don’t want to make him proud. I loved him very much and he loved my family very much, but I hardly cried when he died and I didn’t mourn much at the time he died. I guess there was too much going on at the time. But I miss him very much and I’m thankful for this sweet encounter.