John, isn't it amazing the dreams and imaginations you have when you suffer a brain injury? Shortly after I had the aneurysm, Johnny Cash walked into my room in rehab with some fast food in styrofoam dishes. He looked pretty good for a dead man. It was the 1965 version of Johnny. And Dad came and visited me in my room just about every night, and spoke words of encouragment. He'd say, "You're going to be okay. Just do what the doctors and therapists tell you. You're strong." Dad has been dead for 4 years, yet his visits seemed so real. I'm still convinced that he was there looking out for me! I'd wake up, roll onto my left side, and there he'd be, in the chair next to my bed.
I had all kinds of strange dreams during my recuperation.
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