Dreams can come in many different forms; they are just weird, to begin with, especially when some of them just don’t make sense. But then there are the kinds of dreams that do make sense.
I have had many dreams and many nightmares in my life. As I have gotten older, they seem to decrease in frequency. In some dreams, I have met wonderful people, and in others, I end up becoming a victim and somehow die. I also experience recurring dreams that are military-related and involve real-life horrors such as when I was stationed aboard the USS Denver when it crashed into another Navy vessel, and another when I witnessed a catastrophic airplane crash that scorched permanent images into my mind.
There is one dream that has stuck with me for the majority of my life. This is the dream I often think of before I go to sleep at night, and it is the one I sometimes recall when I first wake in the morning.
I remember a dream I had as a teenager while living in my old house in Debary, Florida. I was sixteen at the time and this was in 1995. I awoke from the dream--I would say it was very early in the morning--got out of bed and put on a T-shirt, windbreaker pants, and some sneakers. I made my way outside and when I got to the driveway I could see how dark it was on Shell Road in both directions.
It was very quiet and the air began to get cold as I walked down Shell Road towards Winn-Dixie. I didn’t even make it to the next street over before I could hear a man grunting from behind me. He had on grey sweatpants, a Navy blue sweatshirt, white sneakers and a beanie cap. He was jogging towards me.
I stopped to see what this man was doing and where he was going. I noticed, as he got closer, that he had a mustache. A light from behind me started to illuminate and become brighter. I was starting to see who this man was. It was my father.
“Dad”, I shouted as he was jogging past me. “Dad! It’s me, Louie!”
He stopped as he passed me and turned around.
“Dad, where are you going?”
He pointed his finger down Shell Road and said, “Do you see that light down the street?”
A bright light was seen all the way down Shell Road in the shape of a tunnel.
“Yes, I see it.”
He said, “That is where I am going.”
He continued to run towards the bright light.
I remember seeing his silhouette and him getting smaller and smaller as he continued down the road. That was the last I saw of him. It began to get dark again, and I just stood there. That was the end of the dream.
This dream I will never forget because it let me know where my father was going. I know he is with wonderful people up above. My father passed at 5:55 am on a Sunday morning in November of 1993. As such, the number 555 has always played a part in my life, as well as in my mother’s, sister’s and brother’s lives. This dream and the number 555 provides random reminders throughout my life that my father is with us in spirit.
Dreams, like the one that sticks with me, can happen to anyone. These dreams are okay to have and can be a reminder that a loved one is missed. Losing a loved one is definitely not easy to get over, but you find ways. I hope that if anyone has a dream like mine, that they know it is okay, their loved one is in a beautiful place.
My father, the Soldier and Marine, ‘til we meet again, Devil Dawg!
