June 20, 2010

Haunted Father’s Day

Just before I woke this morning, I dreamed I was in my father’s room in the house I grew up in, looking through his belongings after his death. In real life, he sold that house when I graduated from high school. I did go through his apartment after he was moved into assisted living in 2005, four years before he died.

The dream had the same uneasy, familiar wrongness as dreams of being back in high school or college: I could vaguely sense that I’d been there before and shouldn’t be again—but there I was.

Since he died, I’ve dreamed once that I saw him. In that dream, he was sharp and alert, untouched by dementia. I looked away for a moment, and he was gone: I dreamed that I hallucinated him.

Now I dream about his absence.

I found things of my father’s in this dream, but none of them had meaning.

What did I miss, Dad?

1 comment:

  1. I’ve dreamed only once about my father since he died that I can remember. It was a few months after the fact, and I remember him not saying anything, just being there. It had a profound emotional impact, though that of course the dream and my reaction were entirely from inside my own head.

    I remember the house you lived in during High School quite well. Is it even still standing? The house I grew up in was torn down by the new owners about a year ago—they also cut down all the trees surrounding it, which made the lot, which was once private and rather nice looking, feel much like a blasted wasteland.

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