Always Listen To Your Dad
Theresa, OH, USA
Ihave had a visit from my Dad, who is deceased. The medium? A dream.
I was living with my elderly parents at the time of my father's death, in early March, 1995, in a house they had bought not long after they were married in 1947. I was the youngest daughter, and had lived in this house my whole life. My mom was a bit of an invalid, she had had a stroke, was diabetic, and used a walker to get around.
The night before my dad died, I heard my mom going into the bathroom. Unfortunately, she did not reach the toilet in time, and soiled the carpet in the hallway. I got up and (I hate to admit this) yelled at her for not being able to wait. I cleaned up my mom and scrubbed the carpet. We went back to sleep. My dad had to have heard us, as his bedroom is directly opposite the bathroom. But he did not get up. He had been to the doctor that day, and did not feel well. The doctor had given him medicine for bronchitis.
The next morning, I walked into his room and started to get his pills ready for the day. I spoke to him, and when he didn't answer, I turned and saw something was very wrong. He looked at me when I called his name, but then stopped breathing. I quickly began resuscitation techniques and called 9-1-1. But he died from a massive coronary.
I had been house hunting, and found a house to buy a month after the funeral. We moved in that summer (my mom came with me.) My dad was a great guy, we had all loved him so much, and missed him terribly. I had smoked in college, and still was a social smoker, but that summer I began to smoke heavily. I had tons of dreams that he was still alive--in the dream I would be so relieved that he was not dead. All the dreams took place in the house where I grew up.
One night in October, I had a dream that my dad was talking to me in my bedroom at my new house. I asked him how heaven was, and he shrugged and said it was fine. He then looked at me and said to stop smoking. Then he walked to the doorway to the hall and told me to get up now, and go help my mother. I woke up, and went down the hall to my mom's bedroom, which had an attached bathroom. She was maneuvering her walker into the bathroom, but couldn't hold it, and soiled the carpet in her bedroom. This time, I did not get upset, I told her it was OK, and helped her.
In the 7 years since I've lived here, I've had many dreams, but, in my dreams, the location is never my new house. Oh--I also quit smoking. When I start to slip back into the bad habit, I just remember: Always listen to your dad--he gives good advice.