Lift up a Pumpkin Pie Martini: A haunting tale for Halloween

So my Dad and I had a conversation last night. He came into my room in the middle of the night, fully dressed in a mint green polo, khakis and some sort of fancy Italian loafer. We conversed for a long time about my life and my direction, the rest of the family and what was next. We talked about my book and the blog and the fact that life is short and I'm not getting any younger… thanks, Dad. Then he told me he loved me, kissed me on my forehead and wished me sweet dreams. It was a conversation we'd had before. Both Dad and I were night people and a 3:00 am conversation was not an unusual occurrence. The only exceptional thing about this conversation is that my father has been dead for close to nine years.

Now before you break out the strait jackets and start measuring out my meds (BougieOlderBro!); I do know that I was dreaming. Depending on your belief system; either my father's spirit comes to speak to me in dreams or my subconscious manifested my father in a form I could accept. Either way, I woke up feeling like I had my Dad back for a few hours and I was happy.

This is not the first time (nor I hope the last) but previous visits have not been as joyful. There have been times when my father comes back to lecture the hell out of me. He had this West Indian accent so it was always special to hear his clipped tones shouting, "What de hell is dis?" Sometimes he stops by to check on my Mom or another member of the family. The weirdest ones are when it's like a movie and all of a sudden he's in the scene. Like I'm dreaming about driving somewhere and all of a sudden he is in the car and we are having regular everyday conversation. "You know there's a short-cut, right?" <-- very BougieDad

There are times when I wake up positive he was in the room giving me a very Guyanese side-eye. And then there are those times when I wake up out of a dead sleep positive I hear him calling me. My Dad was one of the very, very, very few who called me "Mich" (pronounced Meesh, often as an expletive). At any rate, when he wanted something right away (or found out I had done something wrong), he would just bark out, "Mich!" That was this daughter's sign to drop everything (immediately) and come running (without question). So when I wake up thinking I heard that, it's always with some anxiety. What needs to be done, what did I do this time?

Yet I always feel there is a point to these real or imagined visits. I don't always know what it is but I'm always positive there is one. BougieSis had a strange dream about him the other night that we are still trying to decipher. This got me to wondering: Does anyone really think that dreams are just dreams? Are you of the belief that your mind is trying to tell you something? Has anyone else experienced a dream-state visit from a lost loved one?

Have a safe Halloween and raise up a toast to all the spirits (restless or not) we keep alive in our memories. By the way, here's the recipe for the Pumpkin Pie Martini pictured above… enjoy!

In a cocktail shaker combine:

2 parts Absolut Vanilla vodka
1 part pumpkin schnapps
Splash of cream
Dash of Nutmeg (I also like a little cinnamon)

Shake with chopped ice until ingredients well mixed. Rim a martini glass with lime and honey, dip in sugar. Strain cocktail into glass and enjoy! (For true decadence, add a scoop of vanilla ice cream for each part instead of ice and whir in blender) Oh, and please drink responsibly.