I had a dream last night that I had just moved into a new apartment and, as in real life, my birthday was fast approaching. My wife and I went downstairs to have brunch at a cafe and a woman who I didn’t came in with a stack of books and put them on the table. “Happy birthday,” she said.
I told her I didn’t know what she meant. As she walked away, I opened the book on top and inside was a card. In my father’s handwriting it said “Happy Birthday, Gordon.”
I don’t remember the exact words inside the card, but (to wit) it said that he knew that I was moving in to a new place and that he wouldn’t be here for my birthday, so he left money with the bookstore downstairs and asked them to pick out something they thought I’d like when the time came. But I recognized the loops and swirls in his hand writing. I knew immediately it was from my dad.
I woke up and started crying. My father died 2 years ago last Sunday. The week after he died, I dreamt I got a call from him wishing me happy birthday and good luck on exams. (It was a shitty birthday.) He wasn’t around when I moved into the place I currently live and, sadly, there aren’t any bookstores downstairs.
I’m glad he’s still thinking of me, and/or vice versa. I just wish I remembered what the books were. Maybe there’s a reason I don’t know them yet.