Terrible Dreams

          I often have incredibly vivid dreams that cause me to wake up and feel as though I haven't slept at all. Today I had that kind of dream. In the dream, my mother had died, and my father (already dead) came back as a ghost or something... I'm not sure, but he came back and he was weak and skinny and tired. As if being on earth is taking a lot out of him. He came back because he knew we couldn't handle it, being orphans and taking care of our mother's funeral and stuff.

          I found my baby brother, Kiddo, sitting up in bed, having not slept the whole night and I asked him what's wrong and he said... Mum's gone, Dad's not really here, what are we going to do? And I said Dad is here now, let's just appreciate that. He then starts crying, saying "Daddy's here, but he's either busy with mum's funeral or resting, he doesn't play with me at all" which made me feel so sad, because towards the end, Daddy had little to no patience with Kiddo, partly because he was in pain 24/7. So I told Kiddo, let's just go to Mummy and Daddy's room, and we'll see what they're up to.

          Dad was in there, laying down, I could see blood on the sheets... Obviously from his colon. But as soon as he saw Kiddo was crying, he sat up, and he said come on, slide down my legs. He used to do that all the time. We'd go to their bedroom at night and he'd play with us until we had to go to sleep, wrap us in blankets and swing us around, giving us piggy back rides or teaching us how to barrel role. But this was weak Daddy. So as Kiddo climbed up on to his lap, I put my arm under his knees to hold them up, just in case. As Kiddo slid down, he started crying again. Saying this can't last forever, he's dead, he can't stay. I said yeah, but there are times when spirits are allowed back on earth for a bit.

          As I woke up, I just started bawling my eyes out. I couldn't handle it. I think I'm pretty good about accepting the death, but once in a while I remember or I'll think about how things would be so much different if Dad were still here. I'd be in the UK, I'd be staying in my penthouse, I'd be able to eat whatever I wanted, no matter the price. I'd have someone who would support everything I did, 100%, someone who would encourage me to go travel the world, someone who would be in charge of the family so I didn't have to be. This dream was a manifestation of what I always thought about: If I could've picked a surviving parent, it would've been Dad, not Mum. It's not that I want Mum dead, it's just that clearly, one is better than the other. Even before all this I'd think if they divorced, who would I stay with? And the answer would be Dad, no question.

          I cried for 30mins straight, could hardly breath right. it was bad. Really bad. Maybe it's not supposed to hit me so hard, maybe I'm coping with it the wrong way, maybe I shouldn't be trying to ignore it all the time. But it's hard. And I'm still not over it, and I suspect I never will be.