Friday, March 2, 2012
A Chat Not Had
I was standing outside near the front door of his house. I looked down the sidewalk to see Dad standing at the driveway. In my dream we chatted for sometime; me on one side of the long sidewalk and him on the other. For some reason I believed that he would return to that spot on a regular basis. "Oh, good!" I said, pulling up a white plastic chair. "I'll just leave this chair here to use every time you come by! I'll be able to ask you questions and we can talk about stuff."
And then he started to fade from view. I remember stepping closer, not wanting him to leave yet, realizing at that moment that I didn't know when he'd return. There I was, holding my hands out to him, crying as he slipped from view.
Then I awoke, quietly sobbing in darkness.
And he really was gone. And he really hadn't come back to answer my questions. And there really wasn't a white plastic chair, ready to catch me as I heaved myself into it at the end of the day; waiting for him to arrive.
Waiting for the chat that never really will happen.