Madrugada Visitor

I couldn’t sleep on Friday morning. Aside from having to wake up earlier than usual to be on the other side of town for training, the rain kept pouring down. All I could think about was, “how bad is the flooding going to be?”

I got up ten minutes before the alarm went off and the first thing I did was reach for my glasses to come online to check the weather. Turns out, the television is much better for this. However, as I was reaching for my glasses, I noticed that I wasn’t tired or cranky even though I’d only slept a couple of hours. In fact, I was kind of happy.

My dad came to visit me during what seemed like my last leg of sleep. He came to ask me if I wanted to go on a trip with him, his brother, my uncle Sam, and uncle Sam’s family. In the dream, I wasn’t home and when I got home, I was a little sad that I had missed him. So I called him.

He proceeded with his invite and I had to turn him down because I had to attend training. I was feeling down that I couldn’t go with, but in a very understanding voice, he said, “its okay m’ija, I understand.”

“Thanks Dad. . . Dad?”

“Yeah, m’ija.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too m’ija.”

And that’s when I woke up. I swear all the “m’ijas” didn’t sound this cheesy.

I think what made me the happiest was that I was able to tell him “I love you.” I’m not a terribly affectionate person. In fact, I turn tomato-red when I have to be affectionate. The tone of his voice when he said it back was so genuine and heartfelt that it helped mend some of those lifelong wounds.

When I woke up, I thought, “I’m not gonna tell anyone about this dream because he came to see me.” But when I got in the shower, I started thinking that maybe I should tell people about my dream. I wanted to shout with glee. I wanted to tell the world. I thought I could tell my sister about seeing Dad and yet I haven’t. I haven’t told anyone.

Sometimes, people don’t like when you dream about the dead. Sometimes people will just say “huh. That’s weird.” Other times they will say, “Ave María Purisima, resale unos Padres Nuestros.” And sometimes, people will not say anything.

Now that I’ve written about it again (first time was in my personal journal), I’ll probably tell my mom since we always tell each other about our dreams. In the meantime, I still have a big smile on my face and curiosity about what kind of trip they were taking in an Amish-style carriage.


mariposatomica said...

I'm glad you were able to communicate with your dad.
Dreams are so powerful and I don't think certain ones should be dismissed. Thank you for sharing with us.

Cracked Chancla said...

sounds like your dad really did come to visit. consider asking him to return to your dreams if there is more you want to tell him. ....eer, yeah i believe in that sort of thing.

La Brown Girl said...

YW Mari, thanks for reading. :)

I believe in that too Cracked Chancla. Ever since he passed away, I sorta quit praying to God and pray to my dad. It always starts off the same, "Dad, I really need you to help me out here . . ." He always has. I am gonna ask him to come back and visit.

cindylu said...

This made me smile. Like the others said, thanks for sharing. I think I dreamt about someone who passed away only once. When I woke up, I told my mom. I felt pretty good about it too.

sonrisa morena said...

I too believe in dreams and am sooo happy that your dad came to visit you.