When Dreams Become Nightmares

Early this morning, Dad called me into his room.

He asked me: “Where is Lorraine? I was just with her”.
He insisted they’d spent time together.
He wanted to know “what we are trying to pull on him”. He was implying she was really alive.
I told him he dreamt about her.
He said, “NO, it was not a dream. I talked with her, I hugged her, I WAS with her”.
I said: “I know Daddy, it was a dream”.
He wanted me to call her best friend, Estelle. (it was 730 AM)
Then he asked: “do you think the undertaker will know where she is? If she’s dead”?

I told him yes they know………….

He kept insisting he was supposed to meet Estelle at 10:00.

He called me back in and asked: “Why won’t you call”? I replied: “Call who”? He replied: “Lorraine”. I asked “how can I call her”? Then he said “call Clem, call Laverne, call Estelle”. He said “JUST call somebody please!!”.

I am at a loss for words.

It is heart wrenching.

Those vivid dreams can sometimes become nightmares.

Part II

Update:

Mildred (weekend caregiver) arrived and he had her to dial Aunt Estelle’s number.

I listened in as he informed her he knows the truth-he knows she knows where my Mom is. He is not stupid. He knows Lorraine faked her death so she could runoff with another man—her true love….it was a long confused talk. She could not hear him so I had to explain to my Mom’s 95-year old, childhood friend what he was alleging.

He also asked her to call the funeral home.

Later, Dad told Mildred he was grieving the loss of his wife.

Then he aked Mildred and I to go to the funeral home to find her.

He continued to ramble on nonsensically insisting he washed Moms hair yesterday, Moms friends were over, and I was standing in the closet.

Concerned, I contacted VITAS hospice. The nurse called back and prescribed an anti-anxiety narcotic for his hallucinations. I probably won’t be able to get him to take it.

It arrived two hours later (They move quickly—even on Sunday-Father’s Day)

Part III

Later:

Dad said some extremely inappropriately things to an old family friend who came by. I still have not wrapped my head around what he said and did to her.

Part IV

Later:

Dad yelled out for help. He was face down and pants down on the bed, unable to move. I could not lift him—so, I headed out the front door in search of a strong man. Then, I heard a loud voice say “Karla Scott”. I looked up and saw it was a childhood friend. I informed him he does not realize it but he is my angel. He came in, gave me his number, and told me to call for help anytime.

He ate only two bites of a great breakfast and dinner today. He is very week.

The night is young and I am here alone with Dad.

Part V

Update:

Tonight, as I got Dad ready for sleep, he was begging me again to reveal where Mom is hiding. He says I am cruel to withhold her whereabouts from him. I insisted he KNOWS exactly where she has gone.

I did not give him the anti-anxiety meds for fear of additional side effects.

This was a most difficult Father's Day!