The Train Station Dream

I have not met many people who do not heed the portent of dreams. It seems to start when we are young. We can have nightmares and we can have dreams of people we love. We can dream of important events in our lives. Dreams can comfort us, be thought provoking, and of course a dream can frighten us. Often dreams relate to our real lives, reflecting a problem we need to solve. A dream can be an event. If we have lost someone we love, a dream can be a way to see that person again.

Dreams, as I am aware, do not cease at a certain age. At age 81, I dream every night. If I am having a dream that scares me, I can still force myself awake. Often, I will have such a good dream I will try to stay asleep! Dreams seem to be an amazing aspect of “humanness.” I have always wondered how it was possible for people not to have them. A dream can both exhaust and restore the dreamer. It can provide answers and promote questions. Most of the time I can remember my dreams. Many people think that is amazing as they either forget or deny their dreams.

As a child, I had a recurring “bad” dream. My family lived in a house on the corner of four streets that came together. We had to cross streets carefully looking all ways. I would dream of trying to cross the intersection and not be hit by a small yellow car. It was coming at me seemingly out of nowhere. I always made it, waking up in a cold sweat! Then I would try and stay awake as long as I could. Sometimes we have dreams that reoccur to comfort us. I do, and I call it my “train station” dream. When we are part of a loving family, good times transport to good dreams. Often these dreams will stay with us all our lives, reoccurring as needed. Such is my “train station” dream.

My father was a wonderful man, who held an important position in the Portland Public Schools. It was to him I went with my childhood problems. My teenage years were a challenge, and as a young married, Daddy remained my confidant and beloved friend. As a youngster, I always missed him when he had to attend an out-of-town conference and would be gone for several days. He traveled by train, and I always went with Mom and my sister to pick him up at the station. One such time, not only was the train a bit late, but Daddy had very nearly missed it! I remember running into his arms when I saw him in the terminal. He pressed a small box into my hands. “I almost missed the train,” he said, “just so I could bring you this! Go ahead and open it.”

I eagerly did just that – and inside was a small porcelain high-heeled shoe. It was pink with a gold bow and gold printing that read “Detroit, Mich.” Of course, I was thrilled and it is still – after nine moves as a married adult – intact. I keep it in a china cabinet. It is my most precious possession. My father died at a fairly young age of 65 years. He was playing golf with his best friends when his heart gave out. I had spoken to him the night before, making sure to tell him how much I loved him.

The little pink shoe is where I can see it every day, reminding me of a man who was my father and my best friend. Ever since reaching adulthood, if my life takes a down-turn I am blessed to be able to summon at will my Dad. I dream I am in the train station and we are walking toward each other. I can feel his arms around me protective and so full of comfort. These are my train station dreams.