When a person moves into the dream realm

I keep having dreams where, I guess, I’m reimagining ways my life could have turned out differently. My dad is always there and so is my mom. They’re not together, but they don’t hate each other, and neither is remarried. Most importantly, they care about us. We are the center of everything. Photos of us line the walls and coffee tables. Memories of Frank playing piano at this moment or me swimming or my sister as a bald baby are treasured. One or two of the grandparents are there, not dead, as they are in real life. Oh, and my dad is fine – he doesn’t have dementia, or Parkinson’s, and he doesn’t need any help from anyone to function and live his life. In one dream, we are at the riverhouse and he’s living there, and he’s got it completely fixed up, and he’s cooked a big meal for not only us but a huge brood of local friends. He’s safe. He isn’t alone. He doesn’t need me. Not only that, he’s providing for others. In another dream, he’s homeless, and he doesn’t have money, but he’s not sick. He’s able to come to whatever event it is – I think it’s part a graduation, part my wedding – and make it through fully participating, overly enthusiastic and slightly apologetic at being homeless. In one dream, I’m a child. Very small. With my mom and my dad, who are thrilled at having created me, and my maternal grandparents. Mostly in the dreams, though, I’m running to catch something. A plane or a train. I’m late. Even a boat. I need to catch. In my wedding, I feel guilty because my family was waiting for me at this really nice restaurant and for some reason I was somewhere else doing something else. In many dreams I don’t have a phone, and I can’t get in touch with my husband. In one or two dreams, I can’t get in touch with him, and I’m in some situation that looks very bad, even though I haven’t done anything wrong, but I know I’ve put myself in some horrible-looking situation and I’m scared.

Having dreams where my grandparents are still alive has happened many ties throughout the years. Dreams about my childhood have also happened – dreams of my childhood home, dreams where I know I’m dead and my dead body is locked in my childhood bedroom and I know I need to enter my tomb but I’m afraid. My parents have never really been part of that. My father entering my dreams as a not-sick version of himself is absolutely devastating and something I’m not ready for. I dream about those things because that’s the only place they exist. I dream about my childhood and my grandparents because I’m mourning them. Now, I see my dad as healthy because that’s the only place that exists. I see my mom and dad together because that’s the only place the story of my conception and creation will live. Once one half of that story is gone, than that story is gone – you only have that half. I can’t seem to get past this right now. But I pray that I do. I pray that I do.