Friday, June 27, 2008

An REM visitor

I just woke up a little while ago and had to jot down the dream I was having. I was having a conversation with my dad, my dad who passed away in 1987. He was sitting on the couch, and I was sitting on the floor with my back against the sofa. I was telling him about a TV show I watched about yacht building (I really did watch a fascinating program about that last night).

In the time it's taken me to make my coffee, I've forgotten most of the dialogue in the dream; however, I do remember that he spoke with his characteristically unhurried pace. At one point I remarked, "It takes almost three years to build some of those ridiculously expensive yachts; they couldn't be an impulse buy." My dad disagreed, "Of course they're an impulse buy," and proceeded to explain why. Although in my dream I must have been my age now, as he explained his view I felt like I was a teenager again, feeling a bit hurt that he disagreed with me, but at the same time having that childlike awe of a parent who has the wisdom of years.

My mom and dad had planned to buy a boat—not a yacht—and retire on it, which makes this dream even more poignant. He retired early at age 57, and for the next few months my parents spent much of their free time going to boat shows and wandering the docks, dreaming of their future. Tragically, nine months after retiring, my dad suffered a massive heart attack and died.

My father has been gone for 21 years now, but during our brief conversation in my dream world, it felt as if no time at all had passed. I miss you dad.

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