It is 4:48 am and I am now wide awake. Why am I on the computer writing this rather
than trying to go back to sleep? The
answer is simple…I want to remember everything that just happened in my
brain. I am sorry that this isn’t
necessarily “Roper Girl” related. Deal
with it. This isn’t for you. It’s for me (but I hope you enjoy it anyway).
Unable to sleep soundly for the last few months, it was
suggested to me by the boyfriend that I take melatonin. Once purchased and prior to consumption, he
casually mentioned the sometimes “crazy” dreams that he has while on them. Knowing my completely jacked up mind all too
well, he laughed and said, “I can’t wait to hear about your dreams!”
Night one on melatonin was awesome. I was relaxed and fell right to sleep. Although I had to be up earlier than normal,
I awakened feeling rested and ready to kick the day’s ass. Night two went a little differently. I took the melatonin because although I was
extremely tired, I could tell that the second I slipped into bed, my mind would
race…sending me sailing on a ship of sleeplessness, yet again. Like the night before, I started to relax quickly and
I found it easy to fall into a deep, restful sleep. But, then it began. The dream…
A little background information you should probably know
before continuing to read this:
As most of you are already aware from my previous ramblings,
I unexpectedly lost my dad seven years ago.
It was, without a doubt, the hardest, most traumatic thing I have ever
been through. As uncaring as I often
come across, my heart is very soft and this is one topic that makes me
extremely emotional. I never know when
those feelings are going to rear their ugly heads. More often than not, it is when I am
completely elated with life, sending those around me into a state of confusion and leading them to believe that I am bipolar. After much
self-psychiatry, I have come to the conclusion that this happens only because
when I was happiest in the years that he was still alive, he was the first
person I wanted to share it with. He was
a best friend. If this were Neverland,
my dad would be my “happy place”.
Most of the time, when someone loses a family member, they
cherish photos, memories and dreams that they have of their loved one. When he died, I became painfully aware that there
were no photos of him and me together since I was very young. The last picture I had with him was during a
calf branding when I was probably a freshman in high school. There are no candid shots. No loving, smiling pictures of us
together. And there are absolutely no
photos of us together during my college years or the years leading up to his
unexpected passing. For this reason, a
part of my heart will never heal. I have
no concrete memories to hold on to and look at…nothing except the images that I
desperately cling to in my head and in my heart.
This brings me to my second heartache. Most people who have lost someone close to
them, claim to have dreams where their loved one comes to comfort them in some
way or another. I have always been
extremely envious and jealous of these people.
In the last seven years, I have had one dream that I remember and that
was a little over a year after he was gone.
But thanks to melatonin, that was all about to change.
Dreams are funny. I
can’t remember how this one got started, but I can tell you exactly how it
ended. The first part of the dream that
I can recall was of me, desperately digging through photos trying to find one
of us together. I knew (and for the
record, I still know in my awakened mindset) that there had to be at least one
photo of him and me together at my graduation.
It is out there somewhere…it just can’t be found. I don’t remember the entire dialog from the
dream, but I can remember every stinging feeling of pain, disappointment,
confusion, anger, and sadness because I have felt those same feelings and
emotions over and over again since he passed away. But then something happened…
As I was desperately digging through these photos, I came
across a pile that I knew contained the jackpot. I vigorously flipped through the photos, tossing them down as I went. My disappointment quickly turned to
excitement and hope (something that my awakened mindset has long given up
on). I came across one that showed my
family as a whole, sitting together. I
recognized my aunt, my mom, an old boyfriend…and there it was…my dad and I…sitting
directly across from each other, smiling.
As I held the photo in my hand, I knew I didn’t want to ever let it
go. But then, something amazing happened. The photo came to life and all of a sudden it
was as if I was watching a video. I was
on the couch with my mom, who was reading.
As I watched, I started hitting her arm, unable to speak, signaling her to see what I was
seeing. Just like in the photo, he and I
were sitting across from each other. We
were smiling and laughing and then we both stood. He embraced me in a hug (something I long for constantly and feel I would give up everything for, just to experience one more time) and then he took his
hand in mine and began to dance with me.
It was as if it were in slow motion. We weren't two-stepping or dancing a waltz. We were just slowly swaying back and forth. There was a warmth that I felt in my heart that I cannot begin to put into
words. His hand on the middle of my back…his
other hand in mine…him looking at me affectionately in a way only a father can…his
blue eyes…his mustached smile…us…together…laughing and smiling...dancing to music that I could not hear, nor wanted to. And all the while, it was as if I were
watching it in a movie. I was just an
onlooker.
In my dream, I was watching this sobbing, my hands over my mouth as tears flowed from eyes down my cheeks. I blinked them away as quickly as I could as I did not want to miss a single second of what I was seeing. While I felt the heartache of missing him, I
was so elated to have that moment burned into my brain and into my heart. It was then that I realized I was awake. As quickly as the dream had come, it was gone. Vanished, like a puff of smoke into thin air. I could still feel the tears running cold down my
cheeks and as I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, sobbing, all I could
think was, “thank you.” I know it wasn’t
real. I know that never happened. Suddenly, a realization hit me. One of the things that I have learned
during my self-psychiatry sessions is that relationships were typically always
dead ends for me. I started them knowing
I wouldn’t finish them because there is an aspect of a wedding that I simply
cannot stand to fathom…the father/daughter dance. I’m sure to those of you reading this, that
sounds completely absurd. But, in my severely broken, messed up mind, that is one thing that has kept me from letting anyone get too
close...ever. I can barely make it through someone else's wedding without copious amounts of booze...so the thought of partaking in my own wedding someday, put simply, turns my stomach. I have a million amazing memories
with my dad…but I have no memories of us ever sharing a moment like that. Now I do.
I don’t know if there was any message in that dream that I
should have been paying attention to.
Maybe someday I will understand it a little better. But right now…at 5:37 am…I am so thankful to
have had that moment. It may not have
happened in real life, but he came to me and gave me something...a memory, that
I have hopelessly longed for…a father/daughter dance.
