Portland, Oregon's Cancer Survivorship and Bodywork Zine by Compassion Arts PDX, LLC
I watched my father die again. Different circumstances from his actual death.
I was at his side for his last breath. And, again, at his side in the dream. There were no drum and song this time.
In the dream, his body was failing and I had dream friends near. He lay on the floor and though he did not speak, somehow words came through, as if he could type them with his mind. The words came slowly, one at a time.
He spoke to the future woman in my life. The one that will capture this wild, creative spirit…
He talked of my kindness and deep feeling… That this spirit is not to be played with or discarded. He said the one who decided to be near would be forever loved. Be careful with this heart.
Pappy and I, in his actual last days, came to a great understanding of one another. He hugged me once, when mom’s life thread was becoming frayed. “You feel everything so deeply, don’t you, son? When did you become my rock?”
I awoke from the dream in tears. Dogs make grieving better.
-Hamid : )