I dreamed the other night that I was walking with a man dressed in bib overalls.  He was my father—who has been dead 55 years.  My father is showing me the house he built.  The site is beautiful, and I am happy for that.  The house is on a rise overlooking a valley.  He is proud of his accomplishment and is obviously hopeful that I will appreciate it.

My father leads me to the door, opens it, and allows me to enter first.  The house is unfinished.  There is no floor, which is out of construction order—just a well-swept hard ground.  The roof is on, but only studs form the frame.  There is no plumbing and no designated rooms—simply one large, unpartitioned space.

My father calmly closes the door, and for a moment I feel frightened, trapped.   I lived most of my childhood in fear of having no escape.  Suddenly I realize that it is strange for my father to close the door because I can walk between the studs and out of the house.  My father seems unaware of this fact.  With this understanding, I relax and I awaken.

This dream has plagued me all day.  I tried to shove it out of my thoughts, to focus on work around the house, to shop, to prepare my meals.  But no matter how I tried, it relentlessly pushed itself back into my mind, accompanied by the questions:  What does it mean?  And what am I trying to tell myself that is pertinent to the present?

This evening, it occurred to me that in my dream my father thought his job was finished; however, it obviously wasn’t.  Nevertheless, he wanted me to like it.

I’ve spent much of my life finishing this house myself.  First, I’ve put the floor of faith beneath my feet.  As a youth, I attended many church services with my friends where they had altar calls for those who wished to commit their lives to God.  Each time, I answered the call.  Once should be enough—but for me it wasn’t.  A kind, loving God who cared about me was not the example given to me in my childhood.  Trust felt impossible.  However, over many years, I have gained trust in God by turning the corners I knew He wanted me to turn.   As a result, I experienced unexpected joy and the blessings He had for my path in life.

I’ve installed the emotional plumbing and kept the integrated memories and emotions flowing into my present.  I valued all emotions—both from myself and those around me.  I gained understanding of and appreciation for my extremely intuitive nature and listened carefully for the voice of my writing muse.

I’ve finished the framing with boundaries.  This was not a skill taught in my family.  However, early on I learned where I left off and others began, emphasized understanding self before others, kept my mind focused on my own issues, responsibilities and goals. I built internal walls and rooms that separated my calling from my work, my parenting from my care of self, my husband’s and friends’ needs from my own.

Finally, I furnished my home. I had fun with the children and my husband, enjoyment of friends and participation in their lives—both good and bad.  Within each room, my calling, my work, my parenting, my relationships, I found places to rest, to find quiet time, to journal.  I furnished my life with hobbies like reading and sewing.  I learned to exercise routinely.  Self care became important.  The furnishing has been the fun part.

My father died young—in his 30’s.  He had no time to mature into a fully-grounded human being.  He died too soon.  Had he lived, I would like to think I would have had a better start, more support, more love, and even a finished floor beneath me.  But from what I know of him—plus what the dream revealed—I am not sure he knew to do more.  What I received was a blueprint—something I could build on.  It was up to me to finish this house—my spiritual walk, my physical abilities, my emotional maturity.  The unfinished house was all my father could do.  But he did leave me with a sense that someone cared for my well being and with an understanding that, as his daughter, I was important to him—that he would want me to be pleased.

Now that my children are raised, I hope they will feel I have given them a good beginning home with a floor of faith, healthy boundaries, a flow of accepted emotions, rooms of their own, and confidence in a solid roof of love that can support them while they attempt to do the same for their children.