Dreaming of My Dad Years After His Death

HeartLast night I dreamed of my dad. I wish I could say I remember all the details, but what I remember is enough. I woke up with a smile. Since my dad died 4 years ago from pancreatic cancer, I’m always happy when I dream of him.

I feel his energy and presence around me all the time when I’m awake: writing, reading, crying, laughing, walking on the beach, driving, meditating, and, of course, during savasana. Oh, sweet savasana! But when I’m asleep and I dream of him, those times take me by the biggest surprise because it’s normally unexpected (I’m not thinking about him when I go to bed or asking for him to show up in my dream).

I always wake up from one of these dreams thinking how normal it felt, as if the dream scenario was 100% real. Of course, it is real – real in another dimension than the physical plane we occupy now. I guess that’s what makes it so difficult to understand, because there are no big “aha” moments in these dreams. We are normally just hanging out as we did when his physical body was still here. Sometimes he is healthy, other times he is sick, but the dreams typically feel ordinary.

I have to admit, one thing that always nags at me the next morning is why. Why did I dream of him? What does it mean? I’ve always been a curious person, and I wish I knew why I dream of him sporadically and if there is a deep meaning behind it.

There are many schools of thought regarding the meaning of dreams. Dreaming of him could be a survival instinct to refocus on cherishing the physical realm relationships I have now. I could unconsciously be thinking of him more than I realize, and that’s why he shows up in my dreams. Of course, it could be Dad just dropping in to say “hello”. Or, it could mean nothing at all (although, that would admittedly be a downer).

I guess regardless of what it means, I am happy when he is in my dreams. Yes, sometimes it may make me sad and miss him, but I know I’m lucky to even have these dreams. I cherish them.

Years ago, I eagerly visited a shaman to ask him some deep, life questions. I was at peace when I left, but not because he answered my questions. Turns out, he told me I simply ask too many questions. I’ve always remembered that and understood what he was teaching me: There are many ways to “know” things, and they don’t always appear in ways our brains and minds can understand. My dream questions remind me of this. Of course, I am still intrigued with the why and what, but for now, I’m just happy to “see” my dad in my dreams.