I dreamed my dad was going to die.

[macul]

It was weird (naturally). It was morning and for some reason I was younger, perhaps back in my teens (I'm in my 30s now). For whatever reason we all knew my dad was going to die today. It came off as if he was "supposed" to die on this same day the previous year, but didn't for whatever reason. And if I recall correctly he was going to die of a heart attack. The last detail I recall about the dream was my dad showering while I was sitting in the hall, and then I heard a thump from the bathroom.

I don't usually talk about this kind of stuff, but this dream really bothered me. I woke up upset. My dad and I get along well. We talk a couple of times every week and see each other every couple of weeks. I wouldn't say we are "close," though. I think a lot of it stems from a nasty custody thing we all went through when I was young. And maybe this sounds corny, but I can't even recall the last time I told my dad that I loved him.

Anyone else ever had a dream like that?

[Winslow]

I've had dreams about my wife dying that shook me up.

I just chalk it up to fears and anxieties of losing someone you love manifesting in your sleep.

I suggest you call your Dad and tell him how much he means to you.

[Ontir]

I was afraid my Dad was going to die, many times for many years. He didn't.

Then nearly 2 years ago now, I flew to Las Vegas. My parents were using my Uncle's time-share, and I joined them for the weekend. Dad had been up and down for awhile, but on the way from the airport my Mom said I shouldn't be surprised because he looks a little under the weather, and she didn't want him to see alarm in my face. It was a good thing this very tepid warning was given.

My Dad opened the door looking like a withered little old man. A shell of the man I'd always known. Prior to that moment I'd not been planning to go back to Rochester for Christmas, but seeing him then, I knew that there would most likely not be a NEXT Christmas.

When they got home, Dad was in and out of the hospital. His blood thinners were so high in his system that his gums were bleeding, and it's a damn good thing he used an electric razor. Between September and Thanksgiving he had 3 or 4 stents put into his heart, but seemed to be doing well at the holiday.

One week later my Mom called telling me he had collapsed, all alone, on the front steps of my parents home. We don't know for certain how long he lay there before the neighbours found him, performed CPR and called 911. It took an eternity to get my airline reservations set, and it was Saturday morning before I was able to board a plane.

The flight from Burbank to Rochester was long and torturous. I sat, curled against the window, iPod playing, trying not to sob loudly. The moment it was allowable to do so, I turned my phone on, and called the ambulance. While being bounced through a variety of "holds," I got disconnected. It was then, that we were allowed to disembark. Normally I wait for the crowd to thin, but this time I lept into the aisle and raced off the plane.

No signal at the carousel, no sign of my best friend and his partner, who were coming to pick me up and take me to the CICU. Finally my bag appeared, I grabbed it and ran for the curb. Outside I had a signal, and finally the hospital. Again, hold to hold, before getting to talk to a human. "The family has left for the evening," is all she would say. For those of you not familiar with HEPA restrictions, that means they can't say anything about anything, to anyone, unless your name is on a list. Tired, disoriented, and now mad I yelled at the nurse, "YOU'RE TELLING ME MY DAD IS DEAD!" People turned at the curb, but I didn't really care. "No," she insisted, "just that the family..." "WOULDN'T LEAVE IF HE WAS ALIVE! I'VE BEEN FLYING ALL FUCKING DAY TO GET HERE!" I hung up on her, and called my Mom's house. They had just gotten home.

All those hours in the air, a strong tail-wind that got us in 45 minutes early, and I was still to late to see my Dad one last time. I don't really remember most of the rest of the conversation with my Mom, I was just trying not to lose it on the curb. I called my best friend, his partner answered. They were inside, trying to find me, astounded that I'd gotten off the plane, through the luggage mayhem, and to the curb without them seeing me. They rushed downstairs and met me. A few hugs later we were crossing the street. Another friend, Christopher, took my suitcase. It was meant to be helpful, but in reality having to tow that damn, cheap, wobbling junk luggage was the only thing focusing me. With it gone, I dropped in the crosswalk. Good friends catch you in the crosswalk, stop traffic, and get you to the other side. We got to my Mom's house, no longer Mom & Dad's house. My brother, 3 uncles and an aunt were there, and we talked until 3 or 4. I have no idea what about, but it was the beginning of the worst week of my life.

The point of all of this, is that I'd give anything for 5 more minutes, and I can't have them. If you're having this dream, it probably means it's time to say what's gone unsaid. Say it now, while you can, because time is fucking short, and loss is damn long!

[Spike-X]

I had the opposite, actually. For a long time after my father died unexpectedly, I used to dream that he was still alive. I'd run into him down the shops or somewhere, and it would turn out to have all been a big mistake.

[DrewTheXenocide]

Huh. That's weird. Just today at work, for some reason, I was imagining what I would say at my father's eulogy.

[Ontir]

I had the opposite, actually. For a long time after my father died unexpectedly, I used to dream that he was still alive. I'd run into him down the shops or somewhere, and it would turn out to have all been a big mistake.

I saw someone in a crowd, not too long ago, and for a few moments I was elated because part of me forgot, and I really thought it was my Dad. I've reached for the phone so many times... It doesn't really get easier, it just really sucks less often.