Fanned by the winds of a dream,
there I was with my high school flame,
standing in a moon beam.
Hand in hand, cheek to cheek.

One night, it was fourteen-year-old me and grandpa
walking along the beach—
the only one that understood me
in my teenage years.

Last night, it was me and Dad sitting on a pier.
And, though he’s been gone almost a year,
there we were watching the pelicans making their last dive—
our sunset ritual while sipping on a beer.

Once again, true feelings burned bright,
illuminating the darkness one feels
late in life
in the middle of the night.

My breathing slows
as I replay the memories.
My eyes grow heavy,
and the flames subside.

Carefully the ember is replaced.
Perhaps another night one will fall,
and the winds of a dream will again
fan the flames tall.

Remembrance

My father died on Saturday, August 15, 2015. Six weeks later, my mom followed him into the sunset on Friday, September 25, 2015. I awoke the morning of November 21, 2015, for the first time since they had passed feeling a little joy. I remember so vividly waking from what seemed like more than a dream. I was sitting on Orange Street pier with my dad, both of us sipping on a cold beer at sunset. He was talking about a house he was trying to buy. He was so proud of the fact that, at eighty-seven years old, he could qualify for a loan. I remember being confused, thinking he was gone, and that Mom was also gone. I remember interjecting into the conversation a question about how Mom was doing. He said, “Oh she’s doing fine. Visiting with all her brothers and sisters.”

His answer seemed plausible in my dream-state because my mom was the last of her six older siblings to pass. I knew she had some catching up to do. Dad was continuing to talk about financing the house when a pelican dove with a huge splash into the water about ten feet in front of the rickety pier. In the next instant, Dad said, “When I die, I hope to return as a pelican, flying endlessly along these shores. When you see one, I hope you’ll think of me.”
When you die? What? You’ve already died! It was in that moment that my unconscious mind crashed into my consciousness. Dad was gone! Mom was gone! I awoke, startled, and my heart was racing so fast that I had to sit up and calm myself with deep, slow breathing. I felt flushed, like I was having a hot flash. I had to toss the covers off to my side. I remember placing my hand over my chest and forcing myself to control my breath to slow the pounding. As my heart slowed, the concept of an unending love-remembrance stirred in my mind. I began to smile and wonder if on another night a love-remembrance of my parents would come. As my heartbeat fell into a gentler rhythm, I wanted to fall back to sleep just to see if Dad and I might be able to reconnect.

I woke up slowly that morning thinking about the dream and my remembrance experience. I was filled with a new relief and joy. This was the first night I’d had (hmm, not sure how to say this) a pleasant dream of my parents. Too many nights recently my wife had had to jar me from my sleep, crying and moaning. But on this night, I had felt a very real connection in the verbal exchange with my dad. I began to wonder where in my inner sanctum this love-remembrance was safely stored. I wondered, also, what it would take to have another experience like that. That’s when my concept of a love ember was born. This idea—that all my life’s loves were somehow stored in a safe place and could fall out and be rekindled in the middle of the night—has forever changed my life.

I lingered that morning in my bed, thinking of the concept of a love ember. I always loved building and starting campfires and cold winter living room fires. I also loved managing the fires until the night ended with the protective gray ash covering the smoldering coals. I remembered at times hearing a loud, exploding crackle from the fire and turning quickly to find that a red-hot ember had popped out of the fire bed. I visualize myself looking at the glowing ember and finding a stick or the poker to roll it safely back in.

It was the image of that single ember that caught my attention. I focused on the concept of the eternal energy stored in that single ember and, if fanned, the fires it could ignite. I recalled the dream I had had earlier in the night—the hot flashes and rapid heartbeat. It was like I had been sitting too close to a fire and was overheated. As I began recalling other vivid dreams, I had similar, warm, physical experiences. I took a few minutes to recall nights when I’d had vivid dreams of friends and relatives, some who were still living and some who had died. Some with my wife, my children, my grandfather, my high school sweetheart, and other significant friends and loves in my life. Some included running on the beach with my three-legged dog, Coco. So many wonderful dream-scenes. All these love experiences, still smoldering inside my soul’s fire. I rolled over, pulled out the pen and journal I keep beside my bed, and wrote most of this poem before breakfast.

I can say that it’s been five years since I wrote this poem, and I have shared many memorable nights with my parents. I go to bed at night wondering who I will get to visit. I think that approaching sleep with that attitude has changed my sleeping habits. I have so many vivid dreams enjoying past experiences with family and friends, both still sharing the light with me as well as others that have sojourned. I even have great dreams of new and wondrous adventures. And if you’re wondering, yes, I’m still a nerd, no chemical enhancements.

My wife seems to fight sleep every night. She asks me how I can just fall asleep so quickly and easily. I tell her I am looking forward to reconnecting to the river of universal, streaming love. I never know which ember will roll out as I fall asleep, and the winds of my dreams will once again fan the flames tall.