I woke from a dream this morning and in the dream was a family that had attended our church but now reside in Alaska. Also in my dream were my mother and my father. Rev. Dr. Bill Sinkford also played a cameo role, but that isn’t the most interesting part about this.
The dream was a stress dream–trying to get many things done at once and it appears that this one was about church start-up and religious education. And in the midst of this, there were my parents. Not UU, apparently visiting me. My father was obviously quite ill. I kept running to one thing to check on something, then running back to make sure they were okay, then running off to attend to something else. The one thing I remember was carrying a small, shallow shovel, trying to move a greasy, gooey mess from one place in the sanctuary to another. Then my mother called me to attend to my father and when she called the grease fell onto the carpeted floor just in time for Rev. Sinkford to have to step over it.
But the strangest thing happened when I woke from the dream. In those seconds of reckoning–is this real? is this dream?–I thought of my father and there was missing him followed and then swallowed by the relief of knowing he was dead and the words that came to me were “at least none of us has to live through his dying again.”
It seems weird to say it in that way, but it was relief. I don’t have to do this again–at least not for real.