A Visit from My Father

I hadn’t slept well and woke too late to make the morning yoga class. So I stayed in bed and drifted back to sleep.

I dreamed I entered a small cafe in a neighboring town. No one was in the restaurant. Feeling a little disoriented and indecisive, I prepared to leave. I told the guy at the counter that my morning schedule was screwed up . . .  that I knew it wasn’t a problem and then finally agreed to a breakfast order.

I moseyed between the tables and looked over when I noticed Daddy sitting at a table. He’d come in from the cold and his hands were between his knees. That’s the way he often waited.

“Daddy!” I yelled happily. I rushed to him and hugged him. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt hoodie and the hood covered his head, tied tightly under his chin. His face was rosy and looked thin. “How did you get here? How did you find me?” I asked.

He said clearly, “I knew how to find you.”

Ever since my father passed away, I’ve been praying to him. He answered my prayers and visited me. I felt peaceful the rest of the day.

6 thoughts on “A Visit from My Father

  1. Joyce, I just love this! It brought tears to my eyes. I had a little “visit” from my dad last week too but I didn’t get to hug him or talk to him. The next morning though a funny memory I’d posted of a conversation we’d had that morning two years before popped up. I felt like I had a visit. It warmed my heart. 🙂 Deb


  2. Beautiful and real. I believe our dear loved ones come to us in our dreams. My dad was and remains my “North Star”- none to be compared. He formed my character and protected me. HUGE! Felice – his name means “happy.” He peacefully went to sleep at 96 yrs old and happy with my brother and me both there with him holding his hand and kissing him. Not a day goes by without me thinking of him and grateful for all he did for me, especially, as a child. Thank you Joyce.


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