For some reason I tend to be more prone toward terrifying nightmares than sweet dreams as I would much prefer but thankfully the nightmares don't seem to stick; I'll wake suddenly in the night, out of breath, heart pounding in absolute terror and for a few minutes I'll remember and know exactly what I was so petrified and in flee of but then the memory fades after a minute or two as I relax. I know I am blessed with pleasant dreams too, just nowhere near as often. The pleasant dreams never let me remember them, even for a minute, but I always know that one has been to visit me because I feel somehow settled and content when I open my eyes.
And then there are the dreams I do remember and I find myself fighting to stay locked safely inside of. These dreams are rare and always of my dad.
My dad died almost twenty-four years ago when I was nineteen and about two weeks before he died, I had a dream that I didn't understand until after we had lost him. I remember that dream clear and exact as though I just opened my eyes from it again this very instant.
I used to love to go for drives with my dad when he was home from the life of a travelling forest lumberjack job he loved so much and with him being such an incredible lover of nature we would usually end up hiking at some beautiful lake lookout area. Well, the dream I had before my dad died was so real I would have sworn it actually happened even though I knew it really had been a dream and it gnawed at me, even then, that I couldn't wrap it up as an actual happening...
My dad and I sat side by side on a retaining wall at the edge of some remote lake, a place I knew I'd never been but also one I knew I was meant to know. The retaining wall, made of old and weathered railway ties looked to have once held up a decked overlook that had long since seen it's final day. But the ties remained strong as we just sat quietly together, side by side, legs dangled over the wall edge, our feet about eight inches above the easily rippling waterline. Neither of us spoke we just took the beautiful in, accepted the peaceful as it came. And then the water moved and we saw her walking toward us. And I knew her right away. "Corina!" I said in a whisper of wondrous appreciation for what I instantly knew as an incredible gift to have a visit with her. And then she was sitting with us, and I was so content for those few moments with Corina on my left and my dad on my right just watching out over the water together. Then Corina looked to my dad and I and she asked us, "Would you like to see where I live now?" I looked at my dad and I asked, "Can we?" He nodded and we all stood to make our way to a spot on the open shoreline further down slope. Corina gave me an old-fashioned diving suit to put on, I liken it to the old ScoobyDoo type diving suits with the round windows on the helmets and she helped me figure out how to get into it. But as she was helping me with the helmet I stopped her from buckling it down after noticing that I was wearing the only suit there and I asked her, "Wait, can't my dad come with us?" And Corina said to me, "Oh he's coming with us... but he doesn't need a suit." I was sure in Corina and in my trust of her I knew we would all be okay. When I was properly set, off we headed into the water, toward the spot we had first seen Corina emerge and then farther on we continued. I don't know how far we walked but the darkness of the water above somehow suddenly turned into a meadow filled with light and sounds and people and laughter. "Come on," said Corina with that big'ol smile I had always known her to wear, "I want to show you eeeeeverything!" .....That was the last moment I have of Corina in her beautiful and peace-filled new 'home'. I remember her running ahead, beckoning us to follow her, and then I was suddenly alone and sitting back on the retaining wall by myself, waiting for my dad to emerge..... he never did.
Corina had been brutally raped and murdered when she was just fifteen years old. Our families were friends and members of the same church and I was best friends with one of her younger sisters (we were both ten when Corina died and had looked up to her like she was the whole world) while our brothers were also best friends right on up through adulthood. So, Corina being in my dream like she was, is really the only reason I knew for certain it was a dream. I had never dreamed of Corina before or since and I feel like she was sent to me to somehow help tell me that my dad was going to be okay even if he couldn't be with us. I was so gladdened to know that Corina was well, happy and full of beautiful life just as I remembered her...
This morning, I found myself in another far too real dream that I fully remember. A visit from my dad sent me back into another time when we were all together as a family... my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother and I. We were all somewhere together and I knew we were away on holiday but I don't know where. We all ended up at a mall somehow and as in real life we chose a meeting place, decided on a time to meet and went separate ways, my brother went with our mom while my sister and I set off with our dad. Now, when I say I was 'back into another time' ... it was kind of weird because I knew everything that I know now but I also knew that none of it had happened yet. I wasn't married, I still had my room at home, I still was a full part of the family I feel like I'm now losing but there was also the realness of my current physical struggles with walking. I tried to follow my dad and my sister climbing a staircase and I just couldn't do it though I could walk without the walker I knew in my dream I had once needed but not until the future; weird set-up but whatever. When I gave up and had to crawl my dad said to us, "Let's back and over that way... I think there's an escalator....." so, we all turned and went, and sure enough we did find an escalator. We stepped onto the moving staircase and I looked up ahead trying to see the next floor which just wasn't there. There was nothing up in front of us, nothing but sunshine. And then I heard my favourite song, Ten Feet Away by Keith Whitley. And I looked beside me to my sister and I said, "My favourite song's playing!! When did they start playing music on escalators?????" My sister looked at me and giggled, "They didn't!" she said and giggled a little as I was looking down and all around me for the speakers I knew had to be there somewhere. The instant I looked back up to ask my dad, he was gone and I was regretfully waking to my set alarm while desperately fighting to remain asleep so I could catch up to a share one more moment in the comfort of my dad being home with us once again.
That's when I realized it was my set alarm that was making the 'escalator music' of my dream but I was grateful that it didn't disappear like most of my other dreams either joyful or frightening. I feel like the rare dreams of my dad are way too few, I've maybe had four over the years but they always leave me as lifted as fallen in their wake. I don't know anything about dream interpretation but I do believe that dreams are natural tellings in ways I can't even begin to comprehend.
And I still want back on that escalator even as I sit now to write.
What do you think dreams tell us? Do you remember your dreams? Do you ever find yourself wanting to stay in them like I did this morning? Do you beieve we are sent messages of loss, hope and love through our dreams? Or, is it all... simply a dream?
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