Dear Dad, I dreamed about you…

by Elouise

Warthog kneeling to eat grass,
Maasai Mara National Reserve, Kenya

Dear Dad,
I dreamed about you last week. I was surprised; you don’t usually show up in my dreams. Here’s what I remember.

I’m at a family celebration, walking down a hall in a retreat center, on my way to the meeting room. I’ve already seen Mom and a few other family members.

I walk by one of the guest rooms, and out you come. All dressed up in a black-tie outfit. You look healthy, tall and as fit as ever. You also look younger—maybe 60? 70? And happy. I’m surprised! I didn’t expect you to be here. I wonder whether you know Mom is here. I see your single room behind you through the doorway.

You start to close the door to walk down the hall with me, but suddenly you remember something. You stop and tell me you’ll be right back. You left the most important part of your outfit in the room. You go back quickly and return right away with a jaunty black top hat! I’ve never seen you so dressed up before. You look good, and you seem to be getting along well. I’m not sure whether to tell you Mom is also here.

That was it. I know you don’t put much stock by dream interpretations. But hear me out on this. I was happy when I woke up from this dream. Not happy about everything that ever happened between us, but happy about my relationship to you and that I feel at ease with you. I think that would be good news to you, too.

The other part, though, might be a little more difficult. But hear me out. I’m a mature, responsible adult woman. Part of that comes relatively easily to me. But the internal strength part hasn’t come easy. That’s the part of me that has to stand up and speak out about things I’d rather not talk about. It’s like a spine, helping me stand up on my own two feet.

I usually think about your internal strength as part of your armor when you did battle with me. Not the kind of strength I enjoyed experiencing. Yet I also know you had lots of ‘guts’ and discipline over yourself. You had to in order to do battle against tuberculosis, without knowing whether you would win or lose.

You also had the strength of your convictions, even though I didn’t like all of them and still don’t. I’ve had strong convictions ever since I can remember. Sometimes I could hold on to them. Other times I couldn’t, especially when push came to shove and I felt weak or scared. I was more likely to cave in so I would be accepted or liked, than to speak my convictions clearly. Not aggressively, but clearly. Without apology.

I’ve been thinking about what I owe you. I’ve decided I owe you and Mom gratitude for at least some of the strength of my character. I’m still learning to count on it. Especially when I get nervous about saying or doing things that might offend others or be misunderstood.

I wonder where you got your sense of certainty about what you believed. Maybe you were more insecure than I thought. Were you sometimes insecure about what you believed? I feel sad that we never had conversations about things like this.

Take a look at the impressive photo I enclosed from Africa. David took it back in 1999 when we went to Kenya for my sabbatical leave. What do you think of it? The warthog is on his front knees, leaning on his ‘arms,’ eating grass. I think he’d make a great lawn-mower! He didn’t seem at all nervous about having his picture taken.

Love and hugs,
Elouise

Telling the Truth