Dreaming in color...

This one is true.

                I don’t dream. At least, not that I remember. When I was younger; yes. I dreamt quite a bit. But, as the years have gone on, I found I was dreaming less and less. A good portion of the problem, is quite probably my lack of ability to attain the deeper type of sleep that allows dreams to form. Worry, regret and just the every day stresses of life, have conspired against me on that one. *chuckles*

                When I DID dream, on a regular basis, my dreams were in black and white. I do not dream in color. Usually, my dreams were about beating the hell out of someone. These invariably involve me, in a suit of armor and swinging a sword. Hey, I don’t have a lot of use for the modern world. Lol.  

                I don’t even have those dreams anymore.

                My father passed on in 1999. It was not pretty, or pleasant. I was devastated, and angry at the world and the almighty, who would allow evil to run rampart across the face of the planet, while taking the soul of a simple gardener. My father was tough, but he was a good man. He did not deserve the miserable ending he got.

               Mom pretty much gave up, after Pop passed. She ended up in a nursing home a little over a year after he died. I would have kept her at home and stayed with her; but she required 24 hour care. I couldn’t work a full time job, a part time job, AND provide her the necessary care she needed. Needless to say, she was not happy with THAT decision… But I talked to her and went to see her several times a week. She passed on in 2007. Neither was her ending a pleasant or peaceful one. Mom was just as tough as Pop. But life didn’t give her what she deserved either.

                Pop had a little Boston Bull Terrier, named Ginger. She was not large, but thought she was a Great Dane. Her personality was at LEAST that large. She was confused, when Pop disappeared from the household, and clung that much closer to Mom. Then, Mom left our home. I did take her out to visit Mom several times at the Nursing Home. She would be beside herself with joy to see my Mother, each time we went. I would put her into the bed and she would lay beside her, trying to like her face. Mom didn’t care for that so much, but tolerated it, because she was glad the dog remembered her and was happy to see her.  

                Ginger passed on in 2001. Her ending was horrific. A brain tumor caused her to seize. She had a massive attack and died in my arms. I was alone at the homestead. There was no time to get help, or take her to an emergency vet. She was gone in moments. I swore never to have another pet after that. I had seen too much of death, in too short a time, taking everyone I loved away from me. I moved out of my home soon after she was gone. I couldn’t take being there anymore.

                Before Pop passed on, he had befriended a cat, which made its home in the garage where he stored the tractor and lawn mower. He was outside walking the grounds one day, and saw this little head peeping out at him from beneath his 1949 Farmall Super A Tractor. Pop was not a cat person, per se, but he could NOT stand to see any animal suffer or go hungry. So, he went back inside and cooked the poor creature some minute steak. He went back outside to the garage and sat the food down, intending to back away and let the cat eat. It came streaking out and rubbed itself thoroughly around my father’s feet and ankles, before turning to eat the steak. That was that. Pop had a cat. He named her Rosie.  Rosie was a dark calico, small and very vocal. My father was not sure how the dog would react to the cat, and so, took to walking Ginger in the front of the house. When he would go out back, Rosie would come streaking up to him, and stay by his side, as long as he was outside. He would sometimes sit outside out screened in porch, in an old metal lawn chair, and Rosie would jump up in his lap. He was concerned, because the cat would drool. He thought she was sick. I had to inform him that cats drool when they are ecstatically happy (thanks Sis, for the info).

                One day, Pop forgot his own self imposed rule, and took Ginger out the back porch door. Instantly, Rosie shot out of the garage. She ran right up to Pop and the dog. Ginger began barking frantically. Rosie simply dropped to the ground in front of her, rolled onto her back and gently placed a paw on each side of Ginger’s face. The dog swallowed her own bark. She tried to growl, but couldn’t even muster the bluster for that. Then she turned away in seeming disgust from the cat. After that, the two were fast friends.

                After Pop passed, we found Rosie a good home, where she could be an indoor cat. Her new owners loved her and treated her like a queen. But, her time outside had been fatal to her, it turns out. She had been infected by some sort of parasite, which eventually killed her, 3 years after my father was gone. Her owners were crushed. I was too, when I was informed. She had taken to sitting on MY lap, after Pop was gone. I am not a cat person either; but Rosie was a remarkable little kitty.

                As I said at the outset; I don’t dream very much anymore. When I did, it was always in black and white. Never have my parents attempted to interact with me, since their passing (to my knowledge. If they have, and I missed it, they need to do something I WILL catch!!!).

                One night, a very few years ago, I woke up. I was laying on the floor, in the living room at my family home. It was the original carpet, from when I was a little child. I was face down and crying. And then, something licked the side of my face. I raised my head, to find Rosie and Ginger looking at me. The little dog was doing her “smile;” eyes open as far as they would go, ears flat back against her head, and trying to curl her lips up to show her crooked little teeth. It was comical as hell when she did it, cause you KNEW she was trying to mimic a human smile. Rosie was sitting beside her, bent forward, with her little nose just touching my face. I KNEW they were both passed on. I KNEW this was a dream. But it was in VIVID color. It was like watching HD tv, it was so real. I spoke with them and told them how happy I was that they had come back to visit me, and how lonely I was with them all gone, INCLUDING Mom and Pop. They of course, did not speak back to me. The licked my face and hands and listened as I cried.

                To ME, THIS is a paranormal event; I rarely dream, and NEVER in color. Another clue to me, was the original rug in the living room, that I was laying on. It had been replaced long before mom and Pop passed on.

                I thanked them both for coming to me. It was good to know they still existed in some form. One of my great fears is passing over and finding out my animal friends from youth are not there. I won’t stay in any heaven that does not include them. Most animals have more right to a Soul and a Heaven, than people do. They love unconditionally. People don’t do that with people, most of the time.

                Now, if I could just get Mom and Pop to make themselves known somehow. AND the animals. I want to see Candy, Jo-Jo, Molly, Ginger and Rosie. AND Bo, Amos and Eddie.  Here’s hoping.

I love and miss you all. Drop in any time.