The Reoccurring Dream

The sun is peaking and its overpowering light stings my eyes. I am standing on a dock; an endless shimmering sea lies behind me and a rugged wooden cabin lies in front of me. I head toward the beckoning refuge of the shaded cabin and enter as if I'd always lived there, even though it is a strange and unfamiliar place. I rummage through dresser drawers until I find a hair brush. Standing before a full length mirror, I comb the curls out of my hair. I hum for a moment before singing one of my favorite songs:

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
"Let it be."
And in my hour of darkness
Standing right in front of me
There will come an answer
"Let it be."

As I approach the second verse, I hear a familiar voice singing. My eyes glance beyond my reflection to see my estranged father standing directly behind me. Unshaken, even indifferent, I continue to sing, as does he:

When all the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will come an answer
"Let it be."
For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be no sorrow
"Let it be"
Let it be. Let It Be
There will come an answer
Let it be

Before arriving at the last verse, I turn to face him, and reach out for his hands. We continue to sing.

Though it may be cloudy
There is still a light that shines on me
Shine on 'til tomorrow
Let it be
I wake up to the sound of music
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
There will come an answer
Let it be

The song ends along with the moment. As if snapping out of a trance, I relinquish my grasp of the cold limp hands and turn away from the unwavering complacent stare. I cannot find my voice to speak, though I'm unsure of what I would say. I run out the backdoor and down the dock. The day has grown old and the wind roams haphazardly about; the sun is sinking beneath the sapphire sea, transforming a pale blue sky into a canvas of pink, red, and orange streaks. I dive into water and swim toward the horizon. I look back to see my father standing on the edge of dock with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the sights of nature.

I disappear beneath the sea's surface and stare through the massive waters. Hundreds of illuminating golden poker chips plunge into the silent sea, slowly sinking toward the unforeseen bottom. Completely surrounded by the fleeing poker chips, I yearn to have one, but I am unable to reach any. I watch the last of the golden poker chips sink out of sight. Then I wake up.

I've had this dream sporadically over the last few months and it's always the same. The images in it stay with me for days and bring up all kinds of undefined emotions. Writing is therapeutic for me and I read that writing out reoccurring dreams can help them to cease. So, I decided to write out the dream in a descriptive narrative style to express it. Maybe it means something, maybe it means nothing-but it is a bitter-sweet dream that visits me from time to time.

This is the version of the song that is always sung in my dream: