Bob Johnson: Alive and Annoyed

My father, who died on 2 December 2009, came to me in a dream and was not pleased when I pressed him on the matter.

Bob Johnson Alive and Annoyed

Returning to Phoenix it was Springtime in the desert. The saguaro were a radient yet dark olive drab and gardens were a'bloom and buzzing with insect life and large flowers of all colours. I was surprised to find my father very much alive and well and living in such good health as I’d not seen him in at least ten years. He walked with only the minor aid of a cane, he required no device pressed to his tracheotomy hole in his neck to speak. He drove his golden Lincoln luxury coup, automobile, and all of his other things in his apartment, were just as I remembered them. He seemed terribly pleased to see me as always, and asked me about work, and asked me to play a song for him on my Stratocaster, but after several hours into this day, I stopped, and poked his arm.
“Who are you?” I asked, deadly seriously, not removing my fingertip of my right pointer from the indentation it made in the flesh of his left forearm.
“What do you mean?” He asked. There was something about his expression and the way he asked me this question, because he neither seemed that interested in my response, nor offended in any way.
I didn’t quite know where to begin. This was so surreal, but yet I felt obligated, yet somehow inexplicably ignorant of the fact that this could not be happening. “Well…” I began, immediately knowing that honesty was the best strategy, “back on the 2nd of December you died after slipping into a coma. I even flew to McAlester and buried you. There was a funeral and a lot of people showed up, and I delivered your eulogy and everything.” I watched my father as I explained this to him, the light becoming a bit fuzzy at this point.
“You know,” he said slowly, “you really do ruin everything.” There was a defined and intense look of disappointment in his eyes as he stared through me. The vision began to fade now, and I immediately knew that I was not in reality.
Then I awoke in the truck… I lay in the sleeper-berth of the Kenworth evaluating my emotions and going through what had just transpired. sadness followed, but more so I was bothered regarding this lapse of assumed reality. Dreams are one thing, you awaken, they usually don’t seem that real, they often fade seconds after your eyes flutter open, but this one did not, and several days later it still is as vivid as ever.

Author's Note

This is an actual dream.