A Dog Named Ivy

Last night I think I dreamed about my grandfather. I’m not sure. But I think I did. He was my best friend in the whole world. He was a simple man. Luckily my memory has still allowed me to recall specific parts of him.  The texture of his hair, the wrinkles in his skin, the blueness of his eyes. I remember holding his hand as a young girl and tracing the ink deeply embedded in the cracks of his hands. He had hard working gracious hands. I can remember how he smelled, the hitch in his walk and how he used to hug. He was the greatest man ever. To me he was perfect.

I was 21 when he died in his sleep.  The night before he died, I was at my apartment in the town I was attending college. I was supposed to go into the city to visit him but I had fallen asleep on the couch.  Strangely enough my now husband woke me up and tried to talk me into going to the city with him. My husband was going to the city to visit his best friend and told me he would drop me off at my grandfather’s and pick me up when he was finished. I declined. I called my grandfather and told him I was too tired to come make the forty five minute drive. My grandfather said “so you are too tired to come see your old grandfather huh?” I told him I loved him and we hung up.  He died that night.

I have dreamt about him a few times since his death. I believe each time he has brought me specific messages.  I know people don’t believe in this-but I do. I know. I mean really I know. I don’t care if other people don’t believe in this or don’t want to believe in that sort of communication, but I do because it happens to me.  It is different when it happens to you. You no longer become the audience who judges- you become a participant. 

Last night I felt his presence in my dreams. I never saw him I don’t think.  In the past when I have seen him in my dream, I wake up and experience the grief again.  It wasn’t like that this time.  There was a young irish setter named Ivy. I remember the dog’s face very clearly. I think I remember hearing my grandmother laugh, but I’m not sure. My grandmother is still living.  I think it was late spring or summer-everything was green and comfortable, set on sort of a farm type setting. I knew he was there. I knew it. Somewhere he was there.

My dream was interrupted, unfinished. I woke up to the all the Superbowl noise in the other room-disturbing the peace.  In the ten seconds following  consciousness I could have recalled all the details of the dream, but it was not to be. The world came rushing in to skew any memory I had attempted to piece together from the night’s slumber.  But I knew it happened. I knew I had seen a dog named Ivy and that he was somewhere in that dream.

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