Before my father died of a heart attack, he was having trouble with the circulation in his feet. The night he died, he was sitting on the couch, resting his bare feet up on the coffee table, and watching an old movie.
After his death, my stepmother went to see a medium who apparently made contact with my father's spirit. The medium told her that my father was wandering around the backyard looking for his shoes.
In my dream last night, I was in a basement bar in Los Angeles. It seemed to be a familiar place in my dream life, but in my waking life, it was not a place I recall ever having been.
My father was there. In my dreams, he often appears. Usually, he doesn't say much, but in this dream, we were having a conversation. I'm not sure everything we were saying, but whatever it was, seemed to involve our feet.
At a certain point, I came to this embarrassing realization that my father was not actually there, and that I was sitting there talking to myself. I turned to a stranger that was sitting on the other side of me, and he confirmed that I was, in fact, talking to myself. Suddenly, I felt like I had lost my mind. I was sure that I saw him, and that he was there. I added that I often saw him. I told him that I saw him when I looked in the mirror. The stranger laughed and told me that I was crazy. He told me it was all in my head.
When I woke up, it was just after 8 a.m. I felt crusty and groggy. I had a headache. I was having trouble with my sinuses. There was a man with a leaf blower going outside my window. I screamed at him to shut the fuck up. I was in a sour mood.
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