Support From The Other Side

My late father visited me in a dream last night. Looking like he did in his 50’s, he didn’t speak to me, in fact with me almost stuck dumb by this rendezvous hardly any words were exchanged. I did, though, hug him as tenaciously as I’ve ever embraced anyone, either awake or in slumber episode.

With both of us mute throughout this night vision, apart from me telling him how much I missed him during my clinch, the motive of my old man’s presence was never revealed. Consequently, whether he wanted to wish me a happy upcoming birthday, calm the strain manifesting from becoming from my mum’s full-time carer, or just to ask if I still had his Jools Holland cd, wasn’t forthcoming.

Our meeting was brief and my father was unable to hug me back due to his eldest offspring’s vice like grip pinning the old man’s arms to his side. However, to be able to indulge in this fleeting embrace with my beloved role model was an emotional episode, even if only in a dream….. Hopefully, my unashamed show of affection towards my old man wasn’t breaching any COVID social distancing edicts wherever he resides these days.

It’s the first time the late family head has appeared to me in a dream. His parents have and some of my mum’s late siblings have also made themselves know to me in night vision. Again, they were meetings of few words, apart from my uncle Gerald who, in 2012, advocated I invest in Amazon stocks. A piece of information I foolishly didn’t act upon; instead, with equal cockamamie going all out on Woolworths shares.

My mum’s late younger sister Joan, who sadly passed in 1996 at the age of 52, once appeared in a slumber vision may years ago. A tarry where she informed me to let my uncle Bernard (her husband) know he overdid the coriander in his curries, and that his flies were open.

I didn’t pass that on either, although as this sleep sight happened several years ago, hopefully by now hopefully Bernie’s noticed his chino zip isn’t fastened……. However, I can’t vouch if he’s addressed his penchant for excessive coriander infusion in Indian food.

The appearance of my father in a dream, the fighting back of tears as I held him, and even now recalling the episode, has to some extent opened my mind to spiritualism. A subject I’ve long dismissed as hooey.

And to be honest, even if it is absolute poppycock, the fact when I held him the redolence and gait mirrored his living years made me feel blessed I’d been given an opportunity to give him one last hold.

I’d been given an opportunity yours truly felt would never happen again. This episode playing out with such clarity, despite usual cynicism towards an afterlife, I’m convinced he genuinely visited me.

No words were exchanged, but the fact I got a chance to tell him to his face how much I loved him, and got to squeeze this beautiful man once again, imparted the support I needed during challenging familial episodes. Supporting me even from the other side.

Thanks dad!

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