dream about dad

On Monday, March 24, I was taking a nap—just like I always do on my day off. That day, I wasn’t feeling too well, and honestly, even now, my body still feels strange… like I’m on the verge of getting sick. It’s been like this for about a week, and I don’t really know why.

Anyway, back to the story. I was napping around 2 PM, and the moment I fell asleep, I started dreaming right away. In that dream, I was with my dad, Cek Nanda, and Nazifah—or at least I think she was there. We were riding a motorcycle together, and Nazifah was sitting on my lap. But as the dream went on, she was no longer there. Instead, there was a baby—a crying baby.

Because the baby wouldn’t stop crying, we pulled over somewhere, though I don’t know exactly where. I tried to soothe him, but he didn’t want me. It felt like he wanted to be with my dad, so I handed him over. My dad held him gently, trying to calm him down.

The dream felt incredibly real—so real that I felt like I had complete control over everything, like I was truly there. And then, at some point, it hit me: This is just a dream… Because how could my dad be here? For a moment, I tried not to move, afraid that if I did, I would wake up and lose him. But eventually, I stood up and looked for him again. Thankfully, I found him, and I was still in the dream.

He looked different but somehow still the same. Fresh, healthy, young. I knew right away—this is my dad. I ran to him, hugged him tightly, and started crying. He looked at me with sad eyes. I sobbed, telling him that I didn’t want to be separated from him. I cried so loudly, asking him if he had a new family up there. Did he?

Then, I felt something—or someone—pulling me away from him. I cried even harder, but just like that, my dad was gone. I wailed and kept wailing until suddenly, I woke up. And when I did, I was still crying—really crying, as if my grief had carried over from the dream.

I miss him. I didn’t realize just how much I miss him. It’s been three, maybe four years since I last saw him in a dream. He rarely comes. But then again, I rarely dream at all.

Maybe he came this time because lately, I’ve been sending him Al-Fatihah more often. Usually, I only send him Yaseen and Al-Fatihah on Jummah, but these past few days, I’ve been doing it every day. It’s my way of showing my love, my gratitude—for everything he gave me.

And I will keep doing that.

Thank you, Dad.