Dreams of a Father


The China Memoirs #10

[He] dreams of a father long since past.  This father not many have met, but many know by association.  This father was Dennis Simpson Jr.  He was my father and this is his story.

What can one say, when they wake up from a dream, that seems so real that they could just reach out and touch it with a bare finger.  Well… that is how I felt, when I awoke this morning, finding myself with tears in my eyes wondering, “How did I get here again?”  Well that answer is really a complicated one, but for the sake of time I will tell you shortly and sweetly.

This is a story of the birds and bees between my parents.  First came my eldest sister, then came me, and then came my younger sister.  We were and still are a pretty tight knit group of kids.  Our mother raised us well to love one another well… whether we were stealing toys or pulling each other’s hair out, our love was fierce.  Our father, Dennis Simpson Jr., was a hard-working man and from what I could remember as a child, he worked ALL the time.  So much so, that I don’t really remember him very much.  From what I understand he worked the 3rd shift, which meant he was gone during the night and slept during the day.  Now this created tension with other people in the household, so there was lots of chaos in the house.  This lead to an eventual break in our family unit.

Mom and Dad were just not getting along as well as they used to and alas had to come to an agreement.  A divorce was the only reasonable situation for them both.  I was only 9 years old at the time and really oblivious and removed. My older sister was either 10 or 11 years old.  My younger sister was at least 6 years old at the time.  We knew we couldn’t live in the house for much longer, because Mom couldn’t afford it by herself.  Somehow, as the fates would have it, Mom got remarried in a short time, and we were all off to a new adventure together.

But what happened to Dennis… his story, unfortunately ends a little sooner than we all thought.  My father developed stomach cancer which turned into a freaky sort of lymphoma leukemia in a short period of time.  In two short years, my father had passed from cancer and us kids were left to pick up the pieces.  Sure there was suffering on the part of us kids, but nothing in comparison to what my father experienced.  Bless his heart because he surely got the worst of it.

From then on, the only sort of peace I had, was the kind experienced in my dreams.  Often, after his death, I would dream about him still being alive.  (This is of course a common occurrence for all loved ones that are firmly planted in our subconsciousness.)  And as often as I would forget about his existence in my life, another dream would pop up again reminding me of his long-lost presence.  So here is the kicker really… if a person passes on, are they really gone?  No.  Not in the least.  In fact, this is just a transition state for them.  This is an upgrade.  An upgrade into a higher way of life, especially if they had suffered a lot physically (like my father).  His soul is probably somewhere… in a field of astral light, enjoying the astral sunshine, wondering WHY he would ever leave a place like that for a tour on earth once again to battle out the seemingly unending battles of physical change.  That is life, death, and everything in between.

But when I awoke this morning, with tears in my eyes, I remembered that this life is really impermanent.  That soon enough, when the next 50 years has past, and my body is old, gray, and wrinkly, I too will see his face again amongst the many other faces of people that have passed on.  I hope, however, I don’t see it any sooner!  This life offers too much happiness, joy, and love for me to pass up!

I hope that for every dream I do have of him, they just become more and more real.  That every time I see his face, I remember, really, that he is me, just in an older body.  I am a half-clone of his body and that I am reflection of him.  So, when I dream of him, am I really dreaming of myself?  Or… am I dreaming of the man that was my father?

This leads me to think that, what makes a father?  Because I have a stepdad, that I could never really call “Father” or “Dad.”  But maybe that is all really an illusion as well.  He is a father to the two boys that he created with my mother, so couldn’t I also call him “Father” too? He has really been my father for so many years and many people think I actually look more like him, then I do my biological father.  So once again… am I dreaming of my father long since past, myself, or my stepfather?  Maybe I am dreaming of all three?  We are all made in the image of the Creator SPIRIT and thus have IT’s ultimate destiny within each one of us.  To live and play in SPIRIT’s dreamland until we come to realize our truest nature in SPIRIT.  That I believe is the best dream to have.



2 thoughts on “Dreams of a Father”

  1. Dr. D. –
    I hope you are doing well. I think about you and your mission often and continue to marvel at your passion.
    God Bless.
    Tom Nihill
    (Old, white beard, Anatomy summer 2013)

    1. Tom!
      Your beard was white, but you are definitely young at heart! Your words are kind, but you are even kinder. I am the one who marvels at your passion… your dedication to your education is an inspiration to us all.
      Until we meet again,
      Dr. 😀

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