Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Dreams of my Father

Last night I had a dream about my father who passed away in '92. In this dream, I came home from somewhere to see him standing in front of my garage. I got out of my car and went to him but he said nothing, I hugged him and told him I loved him. In my dream, I had no knowledge of his passing and I was confused as to why he wouldn't speak but it didn't seem to disturb me.

In real life I don't remember us ever hugging, or him saying he loved me and the only time I said it to him was on his deathbed. I was raised that being demonstrative was something you just didn't do as a father or a son. This is a family tradition that I have not carried on as my son and grandson hug every time we're together and we say that we love each other all the time.

My dad and I didn't agree on many issues from politics to religion to life choices and our discussions often ended in loud arguments. The only compromise we ever reached was not to talk about explosive topics. This meant we only talked weather and maybe the local sport teams. I remember one evening we were at my parent's house for dinner and I was upset over some news story regarding police brutality somewhere. Dad and I got into a fight over it and he told me that the next time I was in trouble, don't call a cop, call a hippy. That night I had a dream that someone was chasing me with a knife and as I ran by a cop, I refused to ask him for help.

Don't wait for your father to come to you in a dream to tell him you love him, tell him now. I might not have agreed with a lot he believed in but I did always love him and he was always there for me when I needed him. Dad I miss you.

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