Sunday, November 16, 2014

Love you, Daddy

Dad if you're reading this, remember, it's just a dream(s)....

a.) I've mentioned in other dreams where I have been involved with elevators in one way or another and each time is about me not wanting to go for that ride. This part here I am in about the worst shape I can 'remember' and I have this in a quote because I feel like it wasn't exactly a dream, at least not entirely. I'm not sure if this is before, during, or after my ampho treatments or being on the ventilator or just from sleeping in my coma but I felt like absolute hell. I was in terrible pain.. beaten, bleeding, gasping to air, shaking, cold and holding on to life. But I was fighting, with whatever I could physically or maybe more so mentally find any strength to hold on, I was. Then my Dad comes to me, I can't open my eyes because of the pain, but even if I could I probably couldn't see anyway from all of the tears in my eyes. I can visualize his face though. It was strained and saddened yet strong and  clear. Just like his voice. He talked to me like he was proud. Dad has been proud of me before, but this was different. This was the proudness for what he got to witness and be part of as well as being proud to watch me grow. Now he had to watch me not live. It was his time to tell me that I should be proud of myself and that I fought as hard as I could. It was time for him to tell me to let go and stop hurting myself. It was time for him to tell me to stop hurting my loved ones and others battling for me to live. Like always, I was stubborn, and scared shitless. I wasn't ready, but I also wasn't able to do anything about it. I just lay there, painfully in my hospital bed, listing to my Dad. He told me a few stories, stories I've never heard before. Didn't matter if they were true stories or made up or something from both sides like us smart ass Moore's do. I cried and I listened. Went on for lord knows how long. Cry and listen. Then I threw up. Felt like I threw up everywhere but I only recall the taste in my mouth, lasted forever and I kept on vomiting in my mouth. Then Dad said it was time, time to move on to the my chapter. Then I was on to that damn elevator. Soaked in my own blood, sweat, vomit and tears I went, trying to yell out but I couldn't. 

b.) The other part of this involves me not being in as much pain, but rather me being very very cold and motionless while strapped into my bed. Not sure why I was strapped because I couldn't move anything anyway, other than my eyes. I had thought someone had tried to kill me by breaking the elevator or pushing me down into the next floor or however this person did it, but either way I had fallen and broken my back. My thought was I fell down that damn elevator and ended up breaking nearly every bone in my body and was paralyzed. I guess this elevator ride had taken me up to the very top floor of this tall building. It wasn't much of a floor, but more like a utility room with an iron ladder from the opening of the elevator down to a smaller area (almost like the empty elevator shaft itself.)  Then it became almost a 'who-dun-it' mystery. Ever played the board game or seen the movie "Clue"? Somewhat like that. I had a memory of each and every person who could have caused this accident or purposely tried to kill me. Then I see the elevator door open and out comes my Dad. I was really confused and frightened. Didn't I just see him? Didn't he just say goodbye? Well, maybe that was just a dream! He came over to me with even more concern on his face and he asked me what I was doing. I told him about the 'plot' to kill me. He looked interested to me and quickly became like my murder narrator. I would whisper to him each person who could have done this and he would give me legitimate reasons why that couldn't have happened. Couldn't tell you any names or even any faces for that matter, but there were at least a half a dozen people who I questioned. Each time, Dad came with a valid reason why it didn't or couldn't have happened. I soon began to believe him, and started to realize that not only did I not have an accident, I didn't fall at all. I just didn't, die. I'm not sure if I felt like I lied to Dad or let him down or what was going on, but I do know that I cried some more, and started to realize how sick I was, that I never fell and broke anything, and worse so, how hard this had to have been for my Dad. I know I ended up throwing up in my mouth again, and I swear I really did (in actuality) because the taste was so real. All I recall after this was saying goodbye to my Dad and getting into the elevator again. I wasn't scared now, at least not like before and my eyes had dried. The now, for whatever reason, much nicer elevator doors shut and I could feel it was moving. I was heading to my death. My battle was over and I couldn't fight anymore. The last recollection I had was grabbing my bed restraints and pulling them towards my chest in anger. Wait, I can move....?

Once again Dad, if you read this, it was only a dream. Don't feel sadness. If anything you talked me through this. Like only we Moore's can. 


P.S. No I am not saying I did or didn't see the light. But I didn't. 
But, I'm thankfull that it wasn't my time. Too many fighters and prayers for that I guess :)


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