I had a vivid dream of my Dad last night. My sister and I were visiting him in a new home. He lived in a penthouse apartment with a beautiful view of a rose bush with bright red flowers that stretched right up to the clear blue sky.
Dad looked very well and as soon as we stepped inside, smiling, he handed us both a thick envelope. Inside was a wad of notes and a smaller clear envelope. This contained a collection of shiny Finnish coins in the old pre-Euro currency, Marks. My Dad was an enthusiast, and when alive, he often gave us pieces from his stash. With a wink, he’d tell us they’ll be worth a lot of money in years to come.
In my dream, as we opened our envelopes, Dad peered closely at us. This was so true to life that I woke up this morning with a clear memory of his pale blue eyes on me.
He also told me that he’d watched me pick at my food and that I should take better care of myself. At his wake, I could hardly eat anything. If I believed there was a higher power, of an afterlife, I’d be tempted to imagine that Dad had been observing me during that sad occasion.
In the dream, I thought how wonderful it was that he was alive again and at the same time strange. Hadn’t I only a couple of weeks before attended my Father’s internment? And with tears running down my face, shovelled soil on top of his urn in the grave at Kalevankankaa Cemetary in Tampere, Finland?
Today is Finnish Independence Day, so I guess my thoughts are turning back to my home country. Last night, I also attended the Finnish Ambassador’s Independence Day Reception. (I’m so thrilled I had an invite again.) Many of the friends I met there gave me their condolences, so I talked a lot about him. I’m sure all of this explains why I was dreaming of Dad.
This morning I feel very close to Dad. My only wish is that I could have just one more of the bear hugs that he used to envelop me in. And I wish I’d appreciated them a lot more than I did.