When I was in my early twenties, my dad was very, very sick. He had congenital heart disease and he was in the ICC for about a week. It was really hard on my family to see him like this for so long: tubes everywhere, machines beeping all the time, and only fifteen minutes a visit per family member. He didn’t really seem to know if you were really there or not. I would go and see him every day after work and only spend my fifteen minutes. I would walk out into the parking lot in tears and drive home the same way. I would worry all day and night and every time the phone rang at the house I would freak out thinking it was time, worried he was going to die. Then one night I was sleeping a deep sleep … I dreamed that I was trying really, really hard to get my dad up these high stairs to see god. I was struggling for what seemed forever telling him, “Come on, you can do it, you have to help me, you can make it just one more step.” Oh my god, it was so hard. I was dragging him up these stairs; I felt like I would never get him to the top.
Well, I woke up in a cold sweat and the dream seem so real to me I was shaken so bad I could not go back to sleep. I knew that the next day, I was going to be so tired and I had a long day at work and plans to go back to the hospital to see my dad. Well, I finished my long day at work and drove to the hospital. When I got to the ICC floor, I walked to where my dad had been. His bed was empty and he was not there. I panicked and I was shocked and scared. I asked the nurse “Where’s my dad?” and she told he was gone. I was like, “No way, gone? Gone where?” She apologized and said, “I mean he was put into a regular room he was really doing much better and the doctor moved him on another floor in the cardiac unit and he is doing so much better.” I was amazed and could not believe what I was hearing. I went to the floor that they moved him to and there he was sitting up in bed watching TV and most if not all the machines and tubes where taken off. I could not believe my eyes. It was a dream come true that I was able to get him to god so he could be healed.
I told my dad my dream and he was amazed. He said that it’s true, sometimes god can hear us and if we pray hard enough the prayers can be answered. The next couple of days passed and my dad came home. I was so amazed. I am now fifty-two years old and I still remember that dream as if it was yesterday. My dad has since passed on. He lived to be eighty-two. He still died from heart disease, but he passed at home in his own bed, asleep, as he always wanted. He never liked the hospital and never liked the tubes and the machines.
That dream will be apart of me forever.