Lucid Dad

At the bottom of the stairs, the grey mist parts and I find myself on a moonlit landscape. A wide, open area fenced in by trees that are blackened with night is illuminated by a half moon. The moon I saw over my shoulder just a few hours ago was a waxing crescent. Ah, I must have just woken up.

There's a house. As I approach it, various creatures come toward me from the woods all around. A big orange cat slinks by. Birds flutter around, trying to glean seeds from the cold night ground. Something a bright shade of blue moves towards me. It looks part playful cartoon monster and part dinosaur. I don't feel particularly threatened by it as it approaches clumsily on clawed feet. Quickly, however, a black lab bounds around the house to come between us, preventing the blue monster's advance. It moves to the side, skirting the dog and continuing toward me. But then another dog, and another and another, German shepherds with black coats or black labs, come around from behind me and form a circle that prevents the monster from making any sort of advance. Dogs, I know I should trust their instincts even if mine are easily duped. "Listen to my dogs!" I tell the monster, and it leaves.

It's then, behind the house, that I see her in the advancing light of dawn. I start out running and leap into her arms, and she catches me. But she is Divine Law. While she can catch me, this is not the cuddly side of god and she puts me down on the ground dispassionately before pointing off and to the left. The light is sprouting quickly and the sky advances to bright blue. In the daylight I see him working, still wearing those polyester knit pants and brown nylon coat. It's early spring and the grass is brown. He's picking up fallen branches from the lawn. I shout to him so loud I must have been talking in my sleep:

Daddy!!

In the daylight I recognize this place as the back yard of the house I grew up in. But, it feels much bigger, like it did when I was in a smaller body. He looks up from his work, drops the sticks and comes over toward me.

When he's right in front of me I reach out and hold his face in my hands. He looks young. His skin is much smoother, his hair has more dark than grey in it, and there are none of those funny age spots on his skin. There is no disease to his comportment. Of all the questions I'd like to ask, out comes a corny: "Daddy, I miss you!".

He seems to answer by saying five sentences simultaneously. But only these words emerge from his mouth;
"I remember when you were little. I'd sit down and you would be climbing all over me."

"I do remember. I remember lots ! I've made you part of my art. "

"I know!" He turns a bit red. Perhaps he's none too pleased by having been turned into such a public subject. Then he adds: "I talk to you because no one else can hear me. Tootsie, you have to live your own life. Don't worry about your mother or anyone else. Get up and LIVE."

Faster than I can ask what he means the scene melts and slips away. I find myself lying in my dark apartment with the foot sounds of my upstairs neighbor echoing through the room. The room has clutter and ticking clocks. Street lights paint a funny pattern across the ceiling. This can't be real.