Early Thursday morning I woke up from an intense dream.
In my dream I was holding my father as he lay in his bed. As I held his torso up, I could see his face changing. He was dying in front of me. His face became bloated, then hollow. His skin changed colors and his breathing was labored. I kept shouting for someone to gather my brother and sisters, but no once came. I was a mess. I was frightened and angry. My father asked me to tend to his wounds on his back. When I lifted him up, he had big stitches on his back that were opened and puss was spilling out. I yelled out for my sister, but no one came.
When I woke up I was in panic. I called my father to check on him, and to my comfort he sounded great.
I know enough to realize that my dream is confirming and asking for my attention to this internal death that is happening in my right now. I’m afraid to sit with the question “What in me is trying to die?” I’m afraid of the answer. I’m afraid of the process of grieving. I’m afraid even though I know that with death comes a re-birth, and that a something new is waiting for me on the other side.