I figured a blog was like a journal, so I wanted to use it to record some of my dreams. I've had some strange dreams lately about my dad. If you don't know, he passed away in July (ironically on the most lucky day of the century: 7-7-07) from an agressive lymphoma. He was fine one day, thought he pulled something in his back, and finally went to the dr. 2 weeks later. He was in the hospital while they ran tests, and died 2 weeks later. This was a lesson on how precious our life is and how it can be taken away so quickly.
So, my point was to record some of the dreams I've had about him. I think i've had about 4, but can't remember the first 2. The other night I dreamed that we were at one of Eli's soccer games, but it was indoors in a gym. (Might be from the amount of time I spend in a gym watching Miguel's volleyball team). It was quite a large gym and we were sitting on some chairs, the game going on in front of us, and people setting up for some event behind us--they looked like caterers. So, we're watching the game (completely aware that my dad has passed away and feeling like I needed to cherish this time I had with him) and Eli tries to do some tricky dribbling move and loses the ball. We're kinding laughing thinking he was cute for trying to do some tricky move. Then, my dad looks at me, and says he thinks the eggs are baked, not broiled (I guess we had been discussing what the caterers were putting out). His face was as clear as day, and I remember feeling his leg touch mine as we sat next to each other. For anyone that can tell me what this dream means, feel free.
Another dream I had was last night. It was me and my dad and my older brother--he must have been behind me in the dream b/c I couldn't see his face, just hear his voice. I think we were outside of a hospital. So, we're talking about how my mom is the new scribe for the bishop at our church. David, my brother, puts his two sense in and says how he used to do that and glad he's done with that job. Then my dad makes fun of my mom saying he didn't think she'd know how to do that and blah blah blah. I respond, "ok, bert!" (my dad's eyebrows were bigger than bert's from bert and ernie on seasame street). My dad kind of laughed that off, then turned around to smoke a cigarette. I didn't understand why no one was making a big deal about this, so I sneaked up behind him, hit the cigarette out of his hand and ran over and stomped on it. That one was a pretty weird dream. Who knows if I'll have anymore!
