January 17, 2023
The dream this morning seems important to share because it has occurred to me it was a universal message from all men who have had to leave their daughters or sons. The reason not as important as the struggle to make that decision which ties all men who have had to leave home, leave their family.
In this dream I was in my apartment, tormented with all the noise being created by the new tenant below me. It has been very disruptive of my normally quiet home, something highly valued by me as it is my sanctuary. There was a loud knock on my door, I answered it to find an old man with a jar of medicine in his hand for me. He tried to come in, but I pushed him back saying he was not invited. Close on his heels was a woman with a baby in her arms, who also wanted to come in. Again I pushed them away, then turned to leave noticing as I did the window in my door was gone. This was troubling me as I walked back to my kitchen, lost in thought as I then came face to face with a young man who was handing me a glass of juice with something added to it, like a health drink.
I asked him how he got into my apartment, his answer was “through the floor”. Of course I was confused, but too distracted by the water on my floor which seemed to be coming from under the fridge. At the same time, this handsome young man was explaining how he wanted to leave, follow his dream, but he had a young daughter now. At this point the dream was full of distractions – there was a whole family coming into my home, the grandfather with his medicine, the woman and her baby and several others gathering in my sitting room off the kitchen. It was the young man who spoke to me after some moments passed with me trying to understand what was happening. He said “we understand your father was a famous man. What was his name?” The room was buzzing with noise but when I said his name, everything went very quiet, the room was still, but my mind was still racing inside trying to find my landlords phone number so I could get help for everything going wrong in my place, so did not acknowledge the stillness around me.
My home seemed to be collapsing around me, the floor started changing, the walls moving, more people coming and going – it was chaos. When I realized I had lost all my contacts and all my photos on my iPad, I collapsed and broke down into tears. This was when the dream ended, much confusion attached to why I received it. The young man was the important person, his presence represents the gift given this morning. This is the first dream I have been able to remember over many weeks, so it has had an impact.
As I was saying my prayers of gratitude this morning, looking at the photo of my father as I do every morning, I suddenly began crying, unable to finish my prayers due to the strong emotional upset. Knowing this is connected to the dream, I did wonder if the young man was my father explaining why he had to leave me. This would explain the deep emotional response as I looked at his photo this morning, why I cannot seem to stop the tears from coming.
I have started a painting of a white rose in the memory of my father which is waiting to be finished, hanging beside my fathers photo. The song Guantanamera has been the inspiration for this painting, the memory of a vision had while in Ecuador connected to it as well. While I can easily connect the young man and his explanation to my father, his gentleness as he gave me his reasons, there has to also be reason for the disruptive energy which came with him. In my thoughts, I feel the chaos is inevitable when such a long hidden truth comes to light, especially if others begin to also see it. My pushing for this truth to be told is and will continue to disrupt my world because I have set myself free from their confines.
I cannot say there is comfort in my dream this morning, yet there is a sort of unusual feeling connected to realizing my voice is beginning to be heard, my face is seen once more. It is unsettling because my cocoon has been my world for most of my life, to be outside of it brings the normal uncertainty of living in the big world with it. I’m simply having to learn how to adjust to the unpredictability of my life now that I’m free to fly.
My father has done more for me in death, than any person in my life. He has helped me find my voice and my wings through a very long and difficult journey of remembering. His love has saved me so many times, my need to persevere, to be heard is directly related to his belief in me, I am strong because of his love for me.
There has been a certain magic in my life which must be impossible for some to understand. Being blessed with such beautiful dreams and visions in conjunction with those most terrible has given me an insight which is also unusual, so difficult for most to grasp. However I will continue to speak about my life until it reaches the ears of those who do understand and will help me carry it forward. I wait for those to understand the true message of my story which has not so much to do with what happened to me, but why. When this message is understood, people will realize we are responsible for where we are today because we did not, nor do we still fully stand against the punishment handed out. We do this because we anticipate the reward we know will follow. This is why my story is important – in order for us as a collective to fly free, we must break free from this circle of dependency.
Attached is a selection from my book “The Beginning, The End, and Everything Lost In Between” which occurred while in Ecuador. To me it explains fully the depths I needed to go in order to retrieve the memories of the man who never left me and who has helped guide me to where I am today. How can I or anyone, ignore such a powerful message? With each step made forward, as my voice finds its place, the inevitability of my fathers departure looms over me. While it is the exact goal I have been working towards, which means no longer having my father walk with me – the loss will be greatly felt. I believe this is what the dream this morning was preparing me for. There has never been closure for me with my birth family and those who cared for me. Closure is a vital part of dealing with grief, something I’m still working towards.
My home, my sanctuary, the one place where I can drop my guard and feel without shame all that I remember of my past. In the safety and quiet of my home I have been able to open myself up to the healing process needed to be able to say good-bye once more to my father. The fact my home is not completely my own anymore with a new tenant downstairs, who brings with her a disruptive energy is also symbolized in my dream. The spirits coming to me in the dream did so, I believe, because of this disruption. The world has never really been a safe place for me, yet I am taking the chance and stepping fully into it now, realizing by doing so, even my home will not always have the peaceful energy cultivated over the years. Living in the world means sharing space, at least in a general way, something I’ve been avoiding. The time has come to adapt to the new way of being which comes from being exposed fully to the outside world.
Excerpt from: “The Beginning, The End and Everything Lost In Between”
…….”The relief from getting through another two panic attacks back to back was enormous. She was pleading for the pain to stop, it was difficult to bear. Breathe, just breathe, make it stop……. Sleep came at last and with it new memories.
In the first memory, she was hiding in the closet behind a makeshift wall made out of a box. She had been crying, there were many wet Kleenex on the floor indicating it had been for awhile. There was also a torn up newspaper or magazine article strewn on the floor amongst the Kleenex. Someone was with her trying to coax her out of her self made room. It was a young woman, someone who cared for her, someone she loved as well. The woman understood her grief, wanting to comfort her.
Then suddenly they were on the street somewhere, it was like a parade or a memorial of some kind – this event seems to explain the reasons for her sadness while hiding in the closet.
She was watching this young woman walking towards her, singing in Spanish as she did, a song they both knew well. She was trying to join in, but the words she knew so well were trapped behind the tears , caught in her throat. The sadness was making it difficult for her to participate even though she really wanted to. They were here to honor someone they both loved. The young woman wore sunglasses shaped like hearts and her hair was in ringlets touching her shoulders. She was very pretty. An intense focus on her seemed very important, listening as she sang the song Guantanamera. The woman reached out, nodding her understanding for the tears preventing participation. The touch of the woman’s hand slipping into her own woke her from sleep. She could still feel the cool touch of the young woman’s fingers as she reached with her free hand to hold onto her. But the moment was already fading as she did.
As the hand disappeared, her attention was brought to the man sitting on the big rock by the river. Her papa was now reaching out his hand for her to join him. As her focus changed to include his presence, all the sadness she felt only seconds ago, was absorbed by the bright sun shining all around him. The sight of his shoulder length curls, his beautiful smile and her favorite yellow shirt, filled her with joy as she ran to sit with him on his giant rock.
In anguish she cries out “Please don’t leave me” but the memory already begins to fade, her father becoming mist in the morning air. Without caring who heard, she screamed into her hand and cried and cried. She fought the urge to fall back to sleep exhausted from the deep emotional outpouring. Every second remembering this special moment of such great importance to her.”
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