My father visited me in my sleep last night for the 3rd time since his death nearly 13 years ago. Those of you who dismiss this statement outright, click away NOW,
Everyone else:
The first time it happened was about 2 years after his death. He chase me through many dreamscapes, desperately trying to get my attention. I was keenly aware of presence but would not acknowledge it. Finally, as morning crept in, he was able to catch up to me enough to grab me by the arm and pull me to face him. He said only one thing: This is not a dream, it is really me.
And I awoke.
The second time was just as things were all falling apart at home less than 2 years ago. Even though it had been 8 or so years since his last visit, I have never forgotten it even in my sleep and was quite receptive to his presence. This time I was ready for a message and he knew it. My dad was not a touchy feely man, almost never prone to sentiment and certainly not one to paint a rosy picture. This time the message was a direction; a dose of clairatly. He said to me: You need to be a better person, you need to try harder.
And I awoke.
The third time was last night, Christmas eve of all nights. I was having particularly vivid dreams last night. Dreams of hope and love. Dreams of peace and prosperity, not for me, but for all. This time was very similar to the first visit with juxtaposition. I knew he was there the whole time. I continued to try to make time in my dream to speak with him, but got distracted. Not in a this is more important than that distracted. Dream priority distracted. I think this was part of the point of the message. It wasn't yet time to deliver it. There were things to observe prior. There were worlds to explore. This time the message was a question; a message of inspiration and beauty. He said to me: Do you still dream?
And I awoke.
Yes, I do. Thanks Dad for the visit.
Thanks for reading friends.
Come dream with me!
Everyone else:
The first time it happened was about 2 years after his death. He chase me through many dreamscapes, desperately trying to get my attention. I was keenly aware of presence but would not acknowledge it. Finally, as morning crept in, he was able to catch up to me enough to grab me by the arm and pull me to face him. He said only one thing: This is not a dream, it is really me.
And I awoke.
The second time was just as things were all falling apart at home less than 2 years ago. Even though it had been 8 or so years since his last visit, I have never forgotten it even in my sleep and was quite receptive to his presence. This time I was ready for a message and he knew it. My dad was not a touchy feely man, almost never prone to sentiment and certainly not one to paint a rosy picture. This time the message was a direction; a dose of clairatly. He said to me: You need to be a better person, you need to try harder.
And I awoke.
The third time was last night, Christmas eve of all nights. I was having particularly vivid dreams last night. Dreams of hope and love. Dreams of peace and prosperity, not for me, but for all. This time was very similar to the first visit with juxtaposition. I knew he was there the whole time. I continued to try to make time in my dream to speak with him, but got distracted. Not in a this is more important than that distracted. Dream priority distracted. I think this was part of the point of the message. It wasn't yet time to deliver it. There were things to observe prior. There were worlds to explore. This time the message was a question; a message of inspiration and beauty. He said to me: Do you still dream?
And I awoke.
Yes, I do. Thanks Dad for the visit.
Thanks for reading friends.
Come dream with me!
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