A dream I had on 3/29/08

Last night I had the following dream: flowing out of some previous dream sequence, which I don’t remember, I found myself riding my motorcycle down Kingwood Drive in heavy traffic, headed out of the subdivision. It was at night, and there was the usual dim, pallor created by passing streetlights, and outside the hazy bubbles of lamplight, the black darkness. The moist night wind was in my hair. Riding along I noticed to my right, a platform about shoulder-level – it was the bed of a flat-bed truck. I was not aware of the cab or driver, only the platform immediately before my eyes to the right. On the platform was a hospital bed with my dad sleeping in it, tilted up in the adjustable bed, just like my last hazy dream-like contact with him in the hospital. He was out in the open air, and we both drove along together in the wind and motor noise. My motorcycle was right next to him, and I was surprised to encounter him like this, because…well, what are the chances of looking over and seeing your dad in the vehicle next to you?

Preventing him from rolling out was a foot-high pane of Plexiglas along the side of the platform, and he was slumped sideways, mouth open, either asleep or more likely, in a fog of sedation. He was in a white gown and all white sheets, and he was unshaven and hair tousled as when he’s been in the hospital for several days. When I saw him, I was very happy and excited. I felt like a little boy again and tried to get his attention, “Dad! Hey Dad! Dad!” I was able to get right next to the platform and reach over the Plexiglas to touch his hair. I wanted to rouse him enough to say Hi. He looked up at me through the plastic pane and his face showed recognition, and he reached over one of his unmistakable hands which had an i.v. dangling along with it, and he gently held my four fingers for a moment before they slipped away and he was taken away from me.

[My beloved father left this world in August 2007.]