I lost my father on March 1st, ironically enough my birthday. It was a world turning upside down experience. We talked like ten times a day all my life. I’ve always had this phobia of dead bodies, so the day he died I didn’t think I could go into the room. But something carried me there, and it was weird, instead of being a grueling, grotesque experience, it was a spiritual experience in a positive way. I kissed him. My sister was speaking to him. He seemed “there” I almost felt I could bring him back to life if I were just a few more steps along in my spiritual journey. I don’t know how to explain it. But it did give me peace, and I’ve held together surprisingly well ever since.
If I were Jung or Freud analyzing your dream I’d surely say your head symbolized the “Ego” and really the enemy was inside, the Ego wanting to put itself back on, wanting to “fight” Sometimes I think its the dead who are alive and the living who are dead. I don’t know where I get that thought. It just comes to me from time to time. Or at least I feel its some sort of continuum going on. Sometimes I think “How can anyone really die? What happens to their memories?” I think I’ll make this into a blog post, I write such long comments. I’m glad I ran across your topic. It’s prescient for me at this time.