I have many strange dreams. Some are bizarre and are only dreams. They mean nothing. They are nothing. Some are funny. Some are quite real.
I have always wondered what happens to us when we die. Are we dumped into the ground, into an urn, tossed into the sea or scattered to the winds, and that’s it? Do our souls continue on without our bodies? Do we truly go to Heaven, Hell, or somewhere in between where we have to wait to be born again? I have my theories, but I’ll keep them to myself.
My father died on an operating table after suffering an aortic aneurysm. My mother and I never had the chance to say goodbye--the hospital staff would not let us see him no matter how hard I fought and tried to get through the doors.
A month after my father died, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Nothing to worry about, we were assured. A little radiation and some chemo-therapy and everything would be just fine.
Five months after my father died--almost to the day--I had a very real dream about my father. I was sitting at his place at our dining room table reading the newspaper when he walked through the front door. Needless to say, I was both surprised and happy to see him. He was the daddy I remember, and he was wearing his/my favorite blue shirt.
He sat down at the table. I put the paper down and said, "What are you doing here? Let me go get mom--she’ll be happy to see you."
I remember hearing my voice wavering with excitement, and was half way out of the chair when he told me, "I’m not here for your mother."
My rear end hit the chair. "You don’t want to see mom? Why?"
"I’m not here for your mother," he repeated.
"Then why are you here?" I asked.
His one word answer ran chills down my spine. "Death."
I was afraid to ask, but I managed to squeak out the word, "Mine?"
He laughed. "No. Not yours."
"Then why are you here?" I asked him again.
"Death," was all he would say. I talked to him a few moments longer, asking him more questions, but the answer was always the same one word.
Then he was gone. I remember waking up and looking at the clock next to my bed. It was 1:52 a.m..
Two weeks later, my mother received a letter in the mail from a law firm located in my father’s home town in Pennsylvania. His brother had passed away in his sleep and they needed to settle the estate. We were his only family, and it took them this long to track us down and get our Arizona address.
I read the letter and looked at the enclosed copy of the death certificate. My uncle died the same day I had had the dream of my father’s visit. The time of my uncle's death was 3:53 a.m., local time. Only one minute after my father left me sitting at the dining room table in my dream....
