Main Page: Difference between revisions
No edit summary |
No edit summary |
||
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
<font size="6">[[Transition|T R A N S I T I O N]]</font> | <font size="6">[[Transition|T R A N S I T I O N]]</font> | ||
<hr> | <hr> | ||
=[[2018.03. | =[[2018.03.15 Dream Of The Kids Meeting Dad]]= | ||
<font face="Consolas,Courier New"> | <font face="Consolas,Courier New"> | ||
The | The misty beginning of the memory of the dream was an awareness of being in some sort of an institution - sparse corridors with lots of featureless doors and fluorescent lighting. Quiet. And I'm confused, as one tends to be in dreams, with a sense that it is a recent forgetfulness and that whatever it is I'm doing I should recall it any instant now. | ||
I'm looking for something. That's probably it. So I start scanning the doors looking for some subtle sign that will trigger recognition and help me find my way. Then I get that nudge of parent-fear, knowing that my kids are supposed to be right behind me, but it's possible that one or both of them have gotten distracted by some random thing and got left around some corner or other and is on the verge of being scared. They're generally such good kids, and they're probably right there behind me, but they can get easily spooked if they lose track of both myself and S. | |||
Just as I'm resolving to pause my search for wherever it is that we're supposed to be going to turn around and herd my spawn, I'm suddenly illuminated with the knowledge of our purpose here. We're here to see my dad. I'm hoping that he's doing OK, and I imagine that he's in some ungainly hospital gown trying to be somewhat comfortable on a bed of some kind. Probably reading a book. Maybe watching tv, or on a laptop. | |||
And my heart nearly explodes as I recognize that he's never met either Simon or Violet. He's going to be so proud! Oh, my god, he's going be so utterly blown away by Simon's brainy inquisitiveness and Violet's radiant joyfulness. I can hardly wait to present them to him with a fervent charge of raw pride. His eyes, when we burst into his room - they're going to go wide, and all those crinkly laugh lines arrayed across his face are going to semaphore such happiness. And the kids, they'll finally have a memory of their Grandpa Castle, because they've never had a chance to meet him... | |||
Because he's been gone. For 10 years now. | |||
And I wake up, gasping. My heart throbs, because it feels like I got to show him these precious grandchildren. Tears stream down my face from the emotional power of it, and the required grieving that must be paid. | |||
</font> | </font> | ||
Revision as of 05:46, 16 March 2018
2018.03.15 Dream Of The Kids Meeting Dad
The misty beginning of the memory of the dream was an awareness of being in some sort of an institution - sparse corridors with lots of featureless doors and fluorescent lighting. Quiet. And I'm confused, as one tends to be in dreams, with a sense that it is a recent forgetfulness and that whatever it is I'm doing I should recall it any instant now.
I'm looking for something. That's probably it. So I start scanning the doors looking for some subtle sign that will trigger recognition and help me find my way. Then I get that nudge of parent-fear, knowing that my kids are supposed to be right behind me, but it's possible that one or both of them have gotten distracted by some random thing and got left around some corner or other and is on the verge of being scared. They're generally such good kids, and they're probably right there behind me, but they can get easily spooked if they lose track of both myself and S.
Just as I'm resolving to pause my search for wherever it is that we're supposed to be going to turn around and herd my spawn, I'm suddenly illuminated with the knowledge of our purpose here. We're here to see my dad. I'm hoping that he's doing OK, and I imagine that he's in some ungainly hospital gown trying to be somewhat comfortable on a bed of some kind. Probably reading a book. Maybe watching tv, or on a laptop.
And my heart nearly explodes as I recognize that he's never met either Simon or Violet. He's going to be so proud! Oh, my god, he's going be so utterly blown away by Simon's brainy inquisitiveness and Violet's radiant joyfulness. I can hardly wait to present them to him with a fervent charge of raw pride. His eyes, when we burst into his room - they're going to go wide, and all those crinkly laugh lines arrayed across his face are going to semaphore such happiness. And the kids, they'll finally have a memory of their Grandpa Castle, because they've never had a chance to meet him...
Because he's been gone. For 10 years now.
And I wake up, gasping. My heart throbs, because it feels like I got to show him these precious grandchildren. Tears stream down my face from the emotional power of it, and the required grieving that must be paid.