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The Goodbye Dream
Jan. 13th, 2022 10:43 amI think I got my goodbye dream from my Dad.
Or rather, my brain gave me one, and allowed me to feel that I do miss him and did love him, if only for the span of one dream.
In the dream I was sitting on the floor with my sisters Kayle and Kate, and we were coloring.
(This would have been a common scene from our childhood but in the dream we were all adults, so even as it happened I was thinking how silly three full-grown women must look coloring on the floor like kids.)
Suddenly the door opened and my dad walked in. Wearing a green polo, jeans, and his black winter coat.
I stood up right away to greet him, saying, "Hey! What are you doing here? You...you're..."
(It seems to be a requirement of "the goodbye dream" that I, the dreamer, am aware that the relative is dead and should not be there.)
He didn't say anything, just smiled and opened his arms for a hug. And I dove right in, wanting so badly to cry, but my sisters were right there (though oddly neither of them had moved) and I wouldn't cry in front of my dad either. No, not even in a dream. I hugged him and smelled his Polo cologne and felt his arms and the clothing and the weight of his shoulders.
Then he let me go, and pointed to a basket that had some books in it, thin books about the size of children's Golden Books, but with white bindings. I looked at the spines and saw that one of the books was titled, "When I Am Gone". I fished it out and turned around to ask if I'd got the right one, but he was gone.
I stood bewildered for a second, then got my sisters' attention and said, "Did either of you see that just now?"
They had NOT seen that just now, and I handed the book to Kate, who promptly carried it into another room where I could still hear her crying as she read it. There was conveniently another copy in the basket, which I handed to Kayle, and we started looking at it together on the floor. In the dream I was trying not to cry, but hearing Kate cry made it hard.
And that was it. I woke up.
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For those who do not have context (LJ Friends will have seen my private posts on this):
Most of my relatives are deceased. After the deaths of some of these relatives (mother, grandmother, and now dad) I've received what I call "the goodbye dream". It's usually a few weeks or months after the person's death, and it's a dream where I see them in the dream, am fully aware that they are dead and I should not be seeing them, and that this is a dream.
The person is usually in a space where I'd be used to seeing them. For example my mom was standing on the sidewalk in front of her rented house in Bloomsburg, and I was standing next to her, and we were drinking coffee together and talking. This is how we'd often wait for my dad to come pick me up from visitation, the way we'd say goodbye to each other in real life.
My grandmother was seated at her tiny 1970s table in her kitchen, waiting for me to show up so we could sit down and chat together like we used to do during visits.
The dream always starts with a hug, and it's a very real and wonderful hug. It is as though I were actually hugging that person; I can smell them, and feel the texture of their clothes and skin and hair, and the specific weight of their arms and height and body pressed to mine.
When the hugging part is over, with the women (my mother and also my grandmother) we've had a short chat, almost like a last-minute goodbye, slightly rushed. Things like, "Tell x I love her," and "Remember to be positive once in a while" and "Don't be sad, things will be ok", stuff like that. And then the dream ends.
My dad was the first male relative to appear in a "goodbye dream". In real life, he used to talk my ear off about all sorts of stuff I didn't care about, like his views on politics or all the things wrong with the world today or how this-or-that business could be run better or how much he hated my mother. If he'd done that in a dream, I probably would have rolled my eyes and turned away and woken up instantly. So my brain gave me something I could realistically accept from his memory: total silence. Just the hug.
Thanks, brain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't really believe that these dreams are heaven-sent. It's probably just my own brain trying to help me cope.
And it DOES help.
This morning, for the first time since October 8, I woke up fully sad that my dad was gone.
The sadness wasn't immediately met with anger or a big fat "WHY".
For the first time, I was able to just feel sad that he was gone, and feel that I missed him very much, without feeling the rage and disgust that for the past few months have always accompanied any thoughts surrounding WHY he is gone.
It was a good thing, to be able to feel that way, to be really sad and grieving.
I was starting to wonder if I'd get to experience that.
I'll probably be pissed off again tomorrow, but at least I had this moment, this gift.
Thanks again, brain.
Or rather, my brain gave me one, and allowed me to feel that I do miss him and did love him, if only for the span of one dream.
In the dream I was sitting on the floor with my sisters Kayle and Kate, and we were coloring.
(This would have been a common scene from our childhood but in the dream we were all adults, so even as it happened I was thinking how silly three full-grown women must look coloring on the floor like kids.)
Suddenly the door opened and my dad walked in. Wearing a green polo, jeans, and his black winter coat.
I stood up right away to greet him, saying, "Hey! What are you doing here? You...you're..."
(It seems to be a requirement of "the goodbye dream" that I, the dreamer, am aware that the relative is dead and should not be there.)
He didn't say anything, just smiled and opened his arms for a hug. And I dove right in, wanting so badly to cry, but my sisters were right there (though oddly neither of them had moved) and I wouldn't cry in front of my dad either. No, not even in a dream. I hugged him and smelled his Polo cologne and felt his arms and the clothing and the weight of his shoulders.
Then he let me go, and pointed to a basket that had some books in it, thin books about the size of children's Golden Books, but with white bindings. I looked at the spines and saw that one of the books was titled, "When I Am Gone". I fished it out and turned around to ask if I'd got the right one, but he was gone.
I stood bewildered for a second, then got my sisters' attention and said, "Did either of you see that just now?"
They had NOT seen that just now, and I handed the book to Kate, who promptly carried it into another room where I could still hear her crying as she read it. There was conveniently another copy in the basket, which I handed to Kayle, and we started looking at it together on the floor. In the dream I was trying not to cry, but hearing Kate cry made it hard.
And that was it. I woke up.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For those who do not have context (LJ Friends will have seen my private posts on this):
Most of my relatives are deceased. After the deaths of some of these relatives (mother, grandmother, and now dad) I've received what I call "the goodbye dream". It's usually a few weeks or months after the person's death, and it's a dream where I see them in the dream, am fully aware that they are dead and I should not be seeing them, and that this is a dream.
The person is usually in a space where I'd be used to seeing them. For example my mom was standing on the sidewalk in front of her rented house in Bloomsburg, and I was standing next to her, and we were drinking coffee together and talking. This is how we'd often wait for my dad to come pick me up from visitation, the way we'd say goodbye to each other in real life.
My grandmother was seated at her tiny 1970s table in her kitchen, waiting for me to show up so we could sit down and chat together like we used to do during visits.
The dream always starts with a hug, and it's a very real and wonderful hug. It is as though I were actually hugging that person; I can smell them, and feel the texture of their clothes and skin and hair, and the specific weight of their arms and height and body pressed to mine.
When the hugging part is over, with the women (my mother and also my grandmother) we've had a short chat, almost like a last-minute goodbye, slightly rushed. Things like, "Tell x I love her," and "Remember to be positive once in a while" and "Don't be sad, things will be ok", stuff like that. And then the dream ends.
My dad was the first male relative to appear in a "goodbye dream". In real life, he used to talk my ear off about all sorts of stuff I didn't care about, like his views on politics or all the things wrong with the world today or how this-or-that business could be run better or how much he hated my mother. If he'd done that in a dream, I probably would have rolled my eyes and turned away and woken up instantly. So my brain gave me something I could realistically accept from his memory: total silence. Just the hug.
Thanks, brain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't really believe that these dreams are heaven-sent. It's probably just my own brain trying to help me cope.
And it DOES help.
This morning, for the first time since October 8, I woke up fully sad that my dad was gone.
The sadness wasn't immediately met with anger or a big fat "WHY".
For the first time, I was able to just feel sad that he was gone, and feel that I missed him very much, without feeling the rage and disgust that for the past few months have always accompanied any thoughts surrounding WHY he is gone.
It was a good thing, to be able to feel that way, to be really sad and grieving.
I was starting to wonder if I'd get to experience that.
I'll probably be pissed off again tomorrow, but at least I had this moment, this gift.
Thanks again, brain.
