Harveys are dreamers…literally. We tend to have very vivid dreams. I know I have mentioned this before, but…
It’s late, and I am up writing because Beau (my eleven year old) woke me up from a sound sleep by calling out for me, urgently. I went in to check on her and soon realized she was not awake at all. She said in a very distressed tone of voice, “She tried to hand it to me. I don’t know why…why did she do that?!”
One night when she was in my bed, she sat bolt upright and said, “Mommy…do you see them? They want to steal our toilets! The only way to get rid of them is to throw candy at them! DO WE HAVE ANY CANDY?!”
As I have gotten older I find that I don’t recall as many dreams in the detail I once did…and I miss it. When I wake up aware that I have been dreaming, the details often feel frustratingly just out of reach…like a name on the tip of my tongue.
I had a dream about my dad one night, not long after he died. We were standing in the rain outside a large office building. I was cold, and standing barefoot in my wet pajamas. He wrapped his overcoat around me…a coat I remembered as having belonged to his father too. In the dream I was aware that my father had crossed over, and that this visit with him was otherworldly, and desperately important. He tenderly placed the palms of his hands on either side of my face, as if to be sure he had my full attention, and then he spoke…
When I woke up I could remember the texture and the smell of his coat, the feel of my rain-soaked clothes…and I had this sense that what he shared was of powerful significance in my life…it was the key that would make it all make sense…and it was this…
I have no damn clue.
(That’s not literally what he said, though at the moment that strikes me funny as hell – The ultimate wisdom from beyond…”I have no damn clue.”)
Actually, I couldn’t remember what he’d said.
Oh, it’s the worst…when you wake up and you feel as though you could have solved life’s mysteries in your sleep, if only you had been awake enough to hear the answers.
I’d like to think that on some level, I heard him…that he did impart his wisdom. Perhaps I will unlock it at the right moment…or maybe I already have, somehow.
Maybe our dreams are where we can really connect with those who have passed on…we can visit them in a place that is neither here nor there.
Dreams can be beautiful gifts.
About a month ago, I had a dream in which I was at a party. I was standing in a crowd, scanning the room as if I’d just arrived and was looking for a familiar face. From across the room, I saw the unmistakable figure of my grandmother, Lynette. My heart leapt, for she had passed twelve years prior.
I couldn’t wait to see her…to hug her.
As I began to walk toward her, someone came racing by me from behind. It was Beau. She tore across the room toward my grandmother, and when she reached her, they belly laughed and wrapped each other up in their arms.
This was the most beautiful thing to witness, because…in this lifetime, they never met.