April 3, 2013 The Dream

We arrived at the ManorCare rehab facility around 4pm yesterday and the only thing we’ve seriously accomplished since arriving is sleep. Rehab is scheduled to start either later today or in the morning and I’m sort of thankful because I didn’t realize how much sleep I’d lost over the last 2 weeks at the hospital. Most often when I’m super sleepy and finally get the chance to fall into a deep sleep I turn into a dreamer and usually the dreams I dream are the vivid kind. I remember them clearly when I wake up. Once I dreamed I was riding in the back of a Hummer with Hulk Hogan and there is more to that dream but it’s disturbing so I’ll spare you. Let’s talk about the dream I had early this morning instead.
I was with my papa. He was sick just the way he is in real life. We are in some sort of rehab place with two of his orphans, baby Abraham and one other girl who I never see clearly. The two orphans ask me to get them some pretzels and I can’t believe how real Abraham is. I kiss his face and then make two nice snack sized piles of pretzels on a little table where Abraham and the other orphaned girl sit happily eating. I turn to check on my papa and that’s when the dream goes wild. He was full on out of his bed and walking towards me. With a startled voice I struggle to get the words out, “Papa! You are walking! Oh my goodness!!” There was a smile on his face. His voice was strong, “I know.” I was both happy and terrified. “Sit down papa! You’re going to hurt yourself!” The shock of seeing him walking without the assistance of even one therapist helping him scared me. I thought he was going to fall even though he appeared stable. I was abruptly awakened from my fantasy land with the sound of a firm knock at our door. It’s real life again. A lady carrying a breakfast tray of food enters and says good morning and I wonder how people can be so chipper at 7:30 in the morning. I decide it’d be a good thing for me to hunt her down sometime later in the day to give her the memo: I’m not a breakfast kind of girl and I hardly think it’s a crime to make my papa wait until 9ish to eat his.