For the first time in many years, I dreamt of my father. It was a hectic dream, there was a lot going on, most of which I did not understand but for a brief moment he was there. For a brief moment things were as they were many years ago and there he was sitting on our couch wearing the faded blue shirt and silver basketball shorts he liked to wear around the house. There he was dark stubble and striking brown eyes in tact. There he was in my dream, returned to me if only for a moment.
I can’t help but contemplate the timing of such a dream. In the ten years since he passed I have often wished, prayed even, for dreams of my father but they never hapened. So I do wonder why this dream would happen now, at a time when my father (who is always in my thoughts) was not at the forefront of my mind. I must admit that I do in small part attribute this subconcious visitation from my father to Dacia Maraini and her story Sogno Romano. In the story she writes of a dream she had of her deceased friend Pier Paolo, how life-like he was, how young and energetic. She clearly understands how it feels to miss someone you love. And maybe my mind picked up on this having read the story earlier this week. Maybe my mind stored this emotional trigger and allowed it to bubble up to my subconcious while I slept. Maybe, I don’t know, but it was nice to see him again.