I was once in that scene, near the last act of the play of Life. My father, who was in his 90s then, listened to a song I wrote, "Fading Away." He knew it was about him—and me. Months earlier, I had a dream in my sleep. I clarify that it was in my sleep because I am fond of dreaming during the day when I am awake. I am a fiction …
I was once in that scene, near the last act of the play of Life. My father, who was in his 90s then, listened to a song I wrote, "Fading Away." He knew it was about him—and me. Months earlier, I had a dream in my sleep. I clarify that it was in my sleep because I am fond of dreaming during the day when I am awake. I am a fiction writer. In my night dream, I was playing the guitar.
When I woke that morning, I decided to learn to play. I played for myself, friends, and family, mostly for my father. He loved the music and the stories within the song. When I played, he would often say, "Sing louder."
One summer, he had open heart surgery. He recuperated on a lounge chair on the patio of their home. I brought my guitar. I played and sang for my father. He was happy then.
A few years later, he passed at age 94.
I had a dream that I played guitar.
Don't let anyone tell you that God does not exist.
He speaks to us in our dreams.
I once played guitar.
I still talk with God ... and my father ... and my mother.
Sharron,
I was once in that scene, near the last act of the play of Life. My father, who was in his 90s then, listened to a song I wrote, "Fading Away." He knew it was about him—and me. Months earlier, I had a dream in my sleep. I clarify that it was in my sleep because I am fond of dreaming during the day when I am awake. I am a fiction writer. In my night dream, I was playing the guitar.
When I woke that morning, I decided to learn to play. I played for myself, friends, and family, mostly for my father. He loved the music and the stories within the song. When I played, he would often say, "Sing louder."
One summer, he had open heart surgery. He recuperated on a lounge chair on the patio of their home. I brought my guitar. I played and sang for my father. He was happy then.
A few years later, he passed at age 94.
I had a dream that I played guitar.
Don't let anyone tell you that God does not exist.
He speaks to us in our dreams.
I once played guitar.
I still talk with God ... and my father ... and my mother.
God speaks to us.
Joel
Thank you, Joel, for sharing this sweet, poignant story with me. You miss him a lot. I can see that.
I do.