I am not a believer in the meaning of dreams.
I don’t think that dreams have any special power or the ability to let you see into the future. I don’t think that your past lives are revealed to you in a dream but I do love them.
I love dreaming.
They are often so vivid, so beautiful. So meaningful. So often, I have dreams about my father who died years ago. In the dreams we’re just doing normal things, things you do when you hang out with your dad. Usually we go for lunch, we order a big meal and we chat about life. Like the old days, he’s on the phone half the time but when he listens, he really listens. And everything is wonderful.
Today, I had a nap, isn’t Easter Sunday perfect.
I hardly ever sleep on the couch but today, I just did. In my dream, he was there. It was funny cause I wasn’t expecting him. Although in my dream I was in his house. He surprised me with business cards. Now that’s something out of the blue. They were perfect. They were made just for me.
Deep down inside, it feels like approval.
It feels like him saying, I know what you’re doing and I’m proud. The truth is, I know it was just a dream. A longing. People die and when they do, they are gone. They don’t feel proud of you. They are just gone. People say they are, but deep inside, you know the truth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
They may not ever be forgotten but they don’t print business cards and they certainly don’t give you their approval.
Death is so finite. It is the end of everything that once was.
In dreaming, we remember.