Elisa Donovan - Wake Me When You Leave: Love and Encouragement Via Dreams from the Other Side

Llewellyn Publications

Woodbury, Minnesota

Copyright Information

Wake Me When You Leave: Love and Encouragement via Dreams from the Other Side 2021 by Elisa Donovan.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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First e-book edition 2021

E-book ISBN: 9780738768380

Book design by Samantha Peterson

Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

Photos provided by the author

Llewellyn Publications is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Donovan, Elisa, author.

Title: Wake me when you leave : love and encouragement via dreams from the

other side / Elisa Donovan.

Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota : Llewellyn Publications,

2021. | Includes bibliographical references. | Summary: After prominent

roles in Clueless and Beverly Hills 90210, Elisa Donovans career was on

the fast track. Until her show is unexpectedly cancelled, her

relationship ends, and her father is diagnosed with terminal cancer.

This book chronicles Elisas journey out of despair and heartbreak, with

nudges from a subtle spiritual presence that could only be her father

looking out for her. By sharing the lessons and challenges that the

universe sent to her, Elisa inspires those who are learning to let go

after a loss so they can live again with authenticity, hope, and

humorProvided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2021005094 (print) | LCCN 2021005095 (ebook) | ISBN

9780738768205 (paperback) | ISBN 9780738768380 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Grief. | FathersDeath. | Donovan, Elisa, 1979Family. |

Spirits.

Classification: LCC BF575.G7 D667 2021 (print) | LCC BF575.G7 (ebook) |

DDC 155.9/37dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021005094

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021005095

Llewellyn Publications does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publishers website for links to current author websites.

Llewellyn Publications

Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

2143 Wooddale Drive

Woodbury, MN 55125

www.llewellyn.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

The wound is the place where
the Light enters you.
Rumi

For Dad,

Sweet dreams.

Contents

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Preface

Im scared, Dad, I said, as the storm escalated and bellowed around us.

Theres nothing to be scared of, kiddo, he replied, his words like a magic salve, abating my fears.

I was seven years old and the Yankees had just won. It was a hot summer night, and we exited the stadium surrounded by the camaraderie of thousands of victorious New Yorkers. We piled in the car to go home, me sandwiched in between my brother and sister in the back. I leaned over the front seat between Mom and Dad and looked out the windshield, exhilarated by the throngs of people on the streets at ten oclock at night. Horns beeped, Latin music pulsed out car windows, people yelled to one another. I was convinced I could sit right there and watch it all go on forever. But I was asleep in the backseat before we even got out of the Bronx.

Somewhere on the Long Island Expressway, I was awakened by the sound of rain. By the time we reached our driveway back in Northport, it was pouring. Dad jumped out to open the garage door, holding his coat over his head to block the rain. He jumped back in the drivers seat nearly drenched and pulled the car inside.

Twenty minutes later I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, petrified of the mounting storm. The summer air was balmy and warm, but it felt like the whole world had just gotten cold. The thunder and lightning came in angry bolts, doors slammed shut, and it scared the life out of me. I leapt out of bed and ran down the hall and down the stairs.

Louis Armstrong was crooning When Youre Smiling quietly on the stereo as Dad sat outside on the screened-in porch on one of the white PVC patio chairs with plastic cushions that left crisscrossed marks on your skin when you sat on them. He had a tumbler in his hand, half-filled with what looked like ice water but couldve been a gin and tonic. He was reading a bookmaybe Tom Clancy, but probably Robert Ludlumutterly unperturbed by the storm swirling around him.

Suddenly I felt extra special to be up so late while my older siblings were already in bed asleep. I was dressed in my favorite summer sleeping uniform: blue terrycloth shorts and an oversized white cotton V-neck undershirt of my fathers, in tatters from hundreds of washes and soft as anything Id ever felt. I gripped the shag rug beneath my feet between my toes. From my perch at the edge of the living room, barely peeking my head out past the sliding glass door, I whispered, Daddy?

He looked up from his book. Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up?

The storm. I cant sleep.

Come here, sit down. He motioned for me to come out. Although I was terrified at the prospect of going any closer to the tempest, his calm amidst the raging rain made me venture out onto the porch in my bare feet. I walked over to him tentatively. I wanted to sit on his lap, but I didnt know if I should. So I sat in the chair next to him, the cool ribbed plastic of the cushion sticking to the backs of my legs.

Im scared, Daddy, I said. He looked out at the mounting weather beyond the screens, and then he reached over and patted my knee.

Theres nothing to be scared of, kiddo, he said. Its just rain, and a lot of noise and nature. We sat there together and listened to the thunder launch out of the darkness unprovoked. We watched the lightning ignite the sky; and his steady presence, his indifferent fearlessness, made me feel safe. I began to focus on the sound of the water pelting the roof, and the sound became like a rhythmic song. I felt the warmth of the summer rain and could smell the sweetness of it. I waited for the rumble of thunder to come again, and it came like a kettledrum, and I waited with anticipation for the flash of lightning to return and illuminate us and our whole backyard like a grand stage. With a crackle and an explosion of light, the storm reached its crescendo and then slowly began to subside. And as the rain eventually lessened to a light drizzle, and the thunder and lightning retreated back to their corners somewhere far away in heaven, my fears turned to wonder and love.