My birthday dream

I’m an idiot.

I spent the weeks before my birthday looking forward to this day
only because I’ve been hoping to dream of my Dad and talk to him.

After all, it’s my first birthday since he left us, and if he’s still somewhere, I believe he’d like to be here with me, at least for a while, or talk to me, or something, on my special day. Right? And it’d be the greatest gift ever for me, too.

I went to bed earlier than usual that night. I was excited.

I remember waking up several times throughout the night, realising that I have yet dreamt of him, so as quickly as I could, I fell back into deep slumber.

Then finally, it happened.

He looked young, he was in his early 30s. He told me his heart ached the most for me when he passed away, because he could hear my prayers for him, and how my heart ached for him as well. I couldn’t say a thing, but hugged him the tightest I could, and cried ‘Papa!! Papa…”

Then I woke up, sobbing! With tears streaming down my face!

Too fucking short!! I tried to go back to the same dream, but it was empty. That was all. :(

I had the whole afternoon to myself, and I spent it feeling upset with myself, and missing him more than ever. I tried to take an afternoon nap, but I couldn’t fall asleep and all I managed was tears on my pillow.

Why!? Why did I have to wake up so soon!? Was it really him? I tried to go back, but I really couldn’t! Was he waiting for me to return to that dream?

And why did I come up with this stupid wish, when whatever came true was perhaps just a figment of my imagination!? And how did I build up so much hope that it’ll turn out perfect, only to disappoint myself?

Sigh.