"When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll out of bed and down on your knees
And for a moment, you can hardly breathe"
Over the years, given my propensity for "The Hag" I've somehow managed to train myself that if I scream in my semi-lucid paralyzed state, it will result in my mumbling and moaning in my sleep. Liza-Ann knows this and whenever she awakes to the sound of me rocking and moaning, she gives me a shake to fully wake me. Thankfully, these days it only happens a few times a year. (It was much worse in my 20s.)
This happened last night, except it was a little different. She woke me because I was moaning. But in the lucid dream I was in, I wasn't screaming. I was laughing. I was laughing in that uncontrolled, loud sort of way one does when something has really caught you off guard. It was the result of a dream within a dream - Inception style. In the outer dream, Liza-Ann and I had done something absurdly forgetful. In the inner dream, my father was laughing at me for it. But not really at me. With me. My father was a humble man. One who could laugh - hysterically sometimes - at his own mistakes. And there were times when he laughed at my folly, but with a kindness and camaraderie in his eyes that let you know you weren't being judged. He was right there with you. Laughing at life. At the sort of mistakes we all make. Knowing we all make them, and that human imperfection is the great equalizer. Everyone forgets. Everyone misjudges. Everyone makes mistakes. Without exception.
It was a welcome visit. They are so exceedingly rare now.
No big insights for the readers with this one. This one was for me.
