Pin It It was several weeks ago, as I remember it, that I had the dream. I shared it the following day with my friend Barbara, calling her up to do so and feeling just a little silly, but knowing if I didn't verbalize it that my dream would have no validation.
It's not the first time, you see, that I've woken from a dream knowing that it was a message of sorts.
Doodoo doodoo doodoo doodooo. That's the theme to the Twilight Zone, in case you were wondering. I'm serious, though. It's that deja vu sensation...that this is more than just a dream feeling but I can't quite put my finger on it. Usually I either write them down or I tell someone about them when they occur. More often than not, I forget all about them. Last night, I dreamed about twins. I'm telling you about this now, so that when I wind up having twins in ten years, someone will remember this blog post and say OMG. She's psychic. And not OMG. She's looneytunes.
I was driving, as I frequently do, down a nearby country road. It was dusk, and the fading light struggled to make it past the canopy of summer leaves. I drove with the windows down, wind rushing in, music playing loud on the radio as usual. Nothing new there.
Up ahead, around a bend in a road, I caught sight of an older man peddling a child's red bike. The bike was too small, and the man was struggling. As I came closer, he stopped peddling and sat down on the side of the road. It was then that I saw he was my father.
I parked the car, climbed out and opened the back hatch. "Hey, Dad," I said, hefting the bike up and placing it carefully in the back. "Cimb on in. We'll be home in a minute."
And he did.
End of dream.
Nothing too strange there, right? Not unless you consider that my father and I have barely exchanged three words in close to eight years. Long story, lots of blahblahblah and angstangstansgst, but obviously it has grown roots in my subconscious. In Dad's, too, apparently, because yesterday I received an email from him: Subject: Mending Fences.
He's coming to Virginia in the next couple of weeks with my nephew, whom I haven't seen in ten years, and is it okay? Heck, yeah, it's okay. There are no fences to mend. Those fences have long since been removed. I guess it was kind of hard to see that with me here and you there.
There are only wide open spaces to drink in the sun here, and shady parkways to bike upon when that gets old.
Looneytunes or not, I'm liking my Dad-On-a-Bike dream.