Though often vivid, the dreams I have while sleeping usually do not make any sense. When I am in the dream itself, either as an observer or a participant, they seem completely normal; no one questions anything. I had a dream last night about my father and stepmother and it felt very real. And although a large portion of it seemed plausible, there were parts that were puzzling.
My sister, my cousin and I had gone to North Carolina, where my dad and stepmother lived for at least a couple decades and until they both passed away. They were both present and looked as healthy as they ever had. My dad had his beer belly, bird-thin legs, the most hair I remember him ever having, which wasn't much, and of course, his fishing hat. My stepmother was in her normal attire - floral t-shirt, loose khaki pants. Her glasses were set perfectly on her face and her hair hadn't yet grayed.
My dad and sister were in one room sorting through things, and my stepmom, my cousin and I were in the dining room. Photo albums and papers were scattered across the table that I'm pretty sure they had forever. We flipped through the albums and they were full of various photos of family members, ranging from the two of them to photos with them and my sister and me to pictures of us with our cousins and so on. The faces of everyone didn't look any different than if we were looking at actual photos.
We were doing a purge of their belongings and sorting out what would go to whom. For some strange reason, without it ever being addressed, everyone knew their deaths were approaching. We didn't know when but knew it would be soon. We carried on as casually as we would have during any other visit.
At one point, my sister began packing a box of her things. My dad left to feed the neighbor's dog. Not because he had to, but because he loved animals. The dog was a Labrador Retriever and he and my dad had a special bond. I'm not sure where my cousin was at this time but my stepmom and I were still in the dining room. She left the room briefly and came back with something small and black but I don't recall exactly what it was. She asked what else I needed or wanted, and after I responded, she asked "have I given you both a piece of my heart?"
Back to reality for a minute - I don't remember a time when my stepmom wasn't in my life. She met my dad when we were very young. I was three or four years old, which made my sister five or six. She gave us as much as any mother would, and even more in some cases.
The dream continued with everyone leaving. I didn't see anyone go but I left on a bike with a box of things. I don't know who would travel from North Carolina to Indiana on a bicycle but perhaps in the dream they were much closer to each other.
I rode for about twenty minutes and realized I hadn't given a hug to anyone and turned back. I was now on a different bike and the box was gone. Instead, I had a small wall shelf, less than 16x20 in size. There was a shelf on top, a chalkboard below and the bottom had a few hooks. I also had a photo of a man but I don't know who he was.
On my way back, I was nearly run off the road by someone driving a semi. He came around the corner but had to maneuver the large truck in an unusual way because someone had planted corn down the middle of the road.
I cruised along for the next few minutes and saw my dad and stepmom walking. They were holding hands, as they often did, and enjoying the sun that hung high in a flawless blue sky. They were chatting and smiling as they searched for a place to eat lunch. I caught up to them and told them why I'd come back. The three of us continued walking and ultimately ended up back at their house.
When we got inside, I noticed an elderly man in a wheelchair. No one questioned his presence and he moved about the house freely. I saw a soup plate on a small table full of chicken noodle soup. Unsure of how long it had been there, I carried it to the kitchen as broth spilled over the sides.
My dad was in the kitchen tearing bread for his homemade stuffing and we were all working to prepare a Thanksgiving meal.
That was the end of the dream.
My stepmom died in April of this year, on the one year anniversary of my dad's death. During a few conversations with our stepbrother, we learned she left a few things for us. We drove to North Carolina in June to pick them up. One of the items was a letter she'd written to us. At the end she wrote "and if you ever need to talk, I'll be listening ... always."
In response to her question in the dream, it is an absolute yes. She had given us each a piece of her heart.
Photo by DrahomÃr Posteby-Mach on Unsplash
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