Back there, that is.
In my dream, my dad was dead, his body laid out upstairs in the viewing room of the house. It was time for the service to start, and I walked up the stairs to view his body and pray for him, which I hadn't done yet, with apologies to the other mourners - especially his mother - who were anxious to get this difficult time done with. Surprisingly I noticed that he was breathing, and after a moment managed to convince myself that it wasn't an illusion! In my dream there was a momentary role reversal, I was suddenly the dad and he the child as I rushed downstairs with him in my arms, where the roles reversed again and he apologized for never lavishing the love on me that I deserved. Somehow the feelings of him and me merged, and I felt the remorse of my neglect overtaken by love for my child at the same time I felt like a child whose heart was flooded with the healing power of the love of my dad which I had never known before. In my dream, father promised son that he would never again allow him to feel unloved. The rest of my dream was filled with hugs and affirmation.
When I awoke, my wife was kissing me goodbye on her way to work, and I felt alone, like an abandoned child who had been given momentary hope but who now felt devastated by the contrast with how loved I felt in my dream. You'd think a dream like this could feel cathartic, but it felt like the complete opposite, like a perfect reminder of a part of how much my dad hurt and rejected me that I had long ago tucked away in a corner of my heart where I could contain the pain that has now come flowing back out.
It's official. My own brain is trying to kill me.
But I'm a grown-up now, and he's been buried for 39 years and can't reject me anymore.
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