Part Three: Monday, The End Of The Saga
A Look Into My Brain

When Is A Dream More Than A Dream?

My Pop died in 1990 in the middle of the night, so I did not get a chance to tell him goodbye or to say "I love you" to him.

A few nights after the funeral, I had a vivid dream. He and I were sitting in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. He was dressed in one of his good suits. He was portly and healthy, the way I remember him best.

I said to him, "Pop! But you're dead!"

And he said to me, "Yes, and I have to go now."

And I said, "I love you, Pop."

And he said, "I love you, too."

And with that, the chair he was sitting turned into a coffin and I woke up.

When is a dream more than a dream?

A few years later -- maybe five? -- my mom got very sick with an intestinal virus and had to spend a week in the hospital. While she was there, I had another vivid dream.

Pop was just standing there, in some indeterminate place, dressed in his old sweater and holding a newspaper. Somehow I knew he was doing the crossword puzzle; it was one of his favorite things to do.

He said to me, "Is your mother going to be all right?"

And I said, "Yes, she's going to be fine. She's just dehydrated."

And he said, "Well, that's good then. I was worried about her."

And with that, he disappeared and I woke up.

When is a dream more than a dream?

Last week, I had a third vivid dream.

My sister and I were walking toward the assisted living home where Mom lives now, only the whole surrounding area had been developed and built up. It was kind of like Ocean City, but it wasn't. As we were walking, Pop came up to us. Once again, he was dressed in his favorite old sweater, his glasses perched on his nose. He was determined and strong.

And he said to me, "Where's this place where your mother's living?"

And I said, "It's right up the street; we're going there now."

And he said, "I'm coming to get her out of there. She can't stay there anymore."

And then the dream thinned out and I woke up, cold all over.

I called Mom the next day. She was fine; she'd just come back from bingo where she won eight games. I saw her on Saturday and she was fine, looking forward to the month's activities and entertainment.

But...

When is a dream more than a dream?

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