The Dream That Prepared Me for Dad's Death

www.thefreedictionary.com/dream

A series of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep.

Dreams have always been a big part of my life. They give me answers to my current and past struggles, they help me work through grief when I have lost a loved-one and they entertain me in my night life. The dream I am writing about in this hub is one that helped me prepare for my father's death. Dad had been sick for some time with emphysema and I was having trouble coming to terms with his impending death from this disease.

I'm over at dad's apartment watching t.v. I hear a noise coming from the kitchen and run to see what's going on. Dad is using his hands and pointing to his throat. It's obvious to me that dad is gasping for air and will die if I don't do something. I call 911 but something is wrong with the phone, so I pick dad up in my arms and put him in the car. I speed to the hospital but keep my eye on dad as he is fighting for air. I am so scared but keep telling him that everything will be alright. I eventually get him to the hospital. I am holding dad in my arms running through the hospital. I am running down a very long and dark tunnel. I keep repeating to dad that everything will be ok and I will get him help. As I'm running to get help and holding him in my arms, I am calling my family of four siblings. I am screaming and crying and asking them to come to the hospital because I think dad is dying. Each sibling I talked to, blew me off and had better things to do than worry about dad and this situation. I was so hurt for dad and very angry that they didn't seem to care. I keep searching for a doctor as I'm running down the hallway and hoping I will see one in time to save my dad. I eventually see a doctor in blue scrubs and beg and scream for him to help my dad. The doctor says there is nothing he can do, even though he hasn't even checked him out. I feel so alone and scared because no one seems to listen or care. I look down at dad after the doctor leaves us, and he is dead. The grief is more than I can bear as I sit on the floor, holding my dear father in my arms. Tears stream down my face and fall on dad as I cry out in sheer pain and sadness.

I woke up from the dream and ran into dad's room crying. I was staying with him at the time, due to his illness. I sat on the bed next to him and told him about the unsettling dream. In his calm, loving, dad voice, he told me that it was time to start preparing myself with his declining health and impending death. I just cried in his arms and told him how much I loved him. He knew I was in denial about how sick he was and gently gave me permission to accept it.

This dream also highlighted the fact that I was the primary child out of five siblings, helping dad out during his illness. I heard many excuses why my sisters and brothers couldn't help me. The excuses I heard the most were: "I'm married with kids and just don't have the time," "Your single, so you have more time on your hands." The number one excuse I heard during those difficult days always involved using the spouse as the scapegoat.