An odd sensation brought me to consciousness around 3:30 am this morning; maybe you’ve experienced it too, when the dream state begins to gain lucidity and the director’s commentary becomes audible, and you slowly start to realize that you’re dreaming before you’re awoken. This happened to me, and it left me tossing and turning, dipping and out of sleep for the next four hours.
I’d been dreaming of dad. I can’t remember the last time I did that; I’m sure it’s been decades. I realized I was dreaming as we made our way through some Jeff Koons-esque mall and into a cavernous food court. Dad told me to find a seat while he went to find us coffee; that’s when it occurred to me: “I’m dreaming of my father because he just died.”
So, I woke up; the thought didn’t upset me. I was just puzzled. And over the course of my day, I chewed on the signs and symbols. “I’m going to find some coffee.” And I’m not coming back. “Wait here.” I’m dreaming of my father because he just died.
I’d return to that strange space as I drifted in and out of consciousness until it was time to get up. I saw someone else I haven’t seen in 15 years: an ex. I’m not sure if we talked about dad. It felt like we did.