LJ Idol Week 4, Prompt: The axe forgets, the tree remembers
I have always had very vivid dreams, very few of which I remember. As a child, I had night terrors, and would run down the hallway screaming, usually crashing into my dad in the middle of the hall as he was coming to check on me. He was always the one who came, not my mom. I am thankful to have forgotten the night terrors and only remember my dad’s comfort.
Some dreams I have had are amazing, and I’d wake up wanting to know more of the story, wishing I could remember the details. If I could remember those dreams, I might be a best-selling fantasy author. I have occasionally managed to hang on to a single image or a phrase which ends up in my writing, but that is only a paltry amount of the greater whole, and small consolation for forgetting what seemed like entire new worlds with novel-length stories that only happened in my sleep.
I can count on my fingers the number of dreams which I remember clearly and all of them are particularly meaningful to me, bringing me a message. The first of these happened when I was in graduate school in 1998. I dreamed of bees flying through the snapdragons in my grandpa’s garden. I can picture this scene as clearly as if I were standing in front of the garden, but what was significant, other than it was the first dream I ever remembered, is the sense of absolute peace I had when I awoke, and the sense of peace I still have from thinking about the dream. I knew it was a message from my grandpa that he and my grandma were happy and at peace in Heaven.
It didn’t happen again until 2006, about numerous friends who had passed away in a matter of weeks. In 2008, when Arthur’s grandma passed away, I saw my grandma welcome her into Heaven. I always knew they would like each other, and funnily enough, they even had the same first name. Dreams came several more times over the next five years about friends, and even the loved ones of close friends. The latter stories, I shared with the families, and they said it brought them peace, too.
One week after my dad died, I had a dream about him. He was in Heaven eating blue chocolate cake and smiling. I asked if his chocolate cake was blue because of the Percy Jackson books. My dad said, “Who’s Percy Jackson?” I explained the character’s love of blue food because of his love of water. My dad replied, “That’s cool! I like water, but my favorite color is blue.”
When I awoke, I again had the sense of absolute peace. I know perfectly well my dad has never read Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series (although I think he would have liked the books). And I knew his favorite color was blue. What really sticks with me is his huge smile and his savoring his cake.
On the one month anniversary of my dad’s death, my longest-time friend, who I have known since we were eleven, texted me that my dad appeared to her in a dream. She said, “I was apparently trying to teach him some popular new dance at the grocery store, something akin to a TikTok dance. I don’t use TikTok and I’m pretty sure your dad didn’t either. It must’ve been his humorous way to get my attention and send you greetings.”
Her text made me laugh on a day that had started out in tears. How I felt made me thankful I had shared my dreams with the loved ones of those in them. I still forget most of my dreams, but these few I remember are enough.
Some dreams I have had are amazing, and I’d wake up wanting to know more of the story, wishing I could remember the details. If I could remember those dreams, I might be a best-selling fantasy author. I have occasionally managed to hang on to a single image or a phrase which ends up in my writing, but that is only a paltry amount of the greater whole, and small consolation for forgetting what seemed like entire new worlds with novel-length stories that only happened in my sleep.
I can count on my fingers the number of dreams which I remember clearly and all of them are particularly meaningful to me, bringing me a message. The first of these happened when I was in graduate school in 1998. I dreamed of bees flying through the snapdragons in my grandpa’s garden. I can picture this scene as clearly as if I were standing in front of the garden, but what was significant, other than it was the first dream I ever remembered, is the sense of absolute peace I had when I awoke, and the sense of peace I still have from thinking about the dream. I knew it was a message from my grandpa that he and my grandma were happy and at peace in Heaven.
It didn’t happen again until 2006, about numerous friends who had passed away in a matter of weeks. In 2008, when Arthur’s grandma passed away, I saw my grandma welcome her into Heaven. I always knew they would like each other, and funnily enough, they even had the same first name. Dreams came several more times over the next five years about friends, and even the loved ones of close friends. The latter stories, I shared with the families, and they said it brought them peace, too.
One week after my dad died, I had a dream about him. He was in Heaven eating blue chocolate cake and smiling. I asked if his chocolate cake was blue because of the Percy Jackson books. My dad said, “Who’s Percy Jackson?” I explained the character’s love of blue food because of his love of water. My dad replied, “That’s cool! I like water, but my favorite color is blue.”
When I awoke, I again had the sense of absolute peace. I know perfectly well my dad has never read Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series (although I think he would have liked the books). And I knew his favorite color was blue. What really sticks with me is his huge smile and his savoring his cake.
On the one month anniversary of my dad’s death, my longest-time friend, who I have known since we were eleven, texted me that my dad appeared to her in a dream. She said, “I was apparently trying to teach him some popular new dance at the grocery store, something akin to a TikTok dance. I don’t use TikTok and I’m pretty sure your dad didn’t either. It must’ve been his humorous way to get my attention and send you greetings.”
Her text made me laugh on a day that had started out in tears. How I felt made me thankful I had shared my dreams with the loved ones of those in them. I still forget most of my dreams, but these few I remember are enough.