Tag: dream land

In good company

My husband, Mike, passed away a little over three months ago.

Unable to remember his age, a few weeks before his death, he asked me, “How old am I?”

I answered, “83, my love.”

“So I’ll be 84 in November?”

“Yes,” I answered. But we both might have been wondering if he would make it to November 23. Still, he appeared to be mulling this over and perhaps making plans for that day.

November 23rd came and I faced his birthday without him. The phone rang. Aunt Lynette, who shared a confidence and special friendship with my husband, had just passed away.

Was that his plan? Did he come and help her cross over to the other side on his birthday? I like to believe so.

I’ve been pretty sick with the flu lately, or I would have posted this sooner. Three nights ago, Aunt Lynette was with me in my dream time.

She was old and frail just like in life, and still wore her oxygen. She lie on a couch and I was there taking care of her.

There were other family members there, but they were going out to shop. I was supposed to go with them. However, I declined as I worried that Aunt Lynette might get up and fall, or even worse.

My aunt attempted to persuade me to go with the others. Leveling with her, I told her she was in no condition to be alone — and I wanted to be the one to stay with her.

We finished our little talk and I crossed the room from her. Don’t remember where I went, but when I came back into the room, my aunt had fallen and was stretched out on the floor.

“Oh, Aunt Lynette!” I felt so guilty for having left her bedside.

She had been a heavy lady in life, but I managed to get her back up on the couch with ease.

A few minutes later, she sat up with more strength than she had shown in the past couple of years. I noticed she no longer wore her oxygen. “Aunt Lynette!” I exclaimed in confusion and concern.

“It’s okay,” she told me. “I’m better. I’m healed. I am well.” She smiled. “You can go now.”

“No. You’re not strong enough,” I answered hesitantly, even though I knew instinctively that it was indeed time to leave her.

“I won’t try to walk alone, don’t worry.” She smiled. “Go.”

I remember putting on my coat as I walked away from her beaming face.

It is reassuring to realize she and my husband are in good company.

I do believe that we must die here in order to be ‘born again.’ My husband and my aunt now live their best life.

Plant the pansies

So who should show up in my dreamland last night, but my Mom! She came from the other-side to go with me to the cemetery.

We sat at the edge of Daddy’s headstone, on a sidehill. I was busy planting blue pansies in front of the stone. Mom looked down over the hill and stood. She pointed and said excitedly, “There’s David!” She waved exuberantly.

Then dropped her hand saying, “I guess he can’t see me. But he had someone with him.”

I told her, “They must be going to decorate Uncle Dave’s and Aunty Cal’s graves. That must be Rene with him. She decorates their parents’ graves every year for Memorial Day.

Even though Mom’s grave was right there beside me, I did not find it odd that Mom had come to sit with me while I decorated Daddy’s (and her) grave.

It was a nice visit. It did not seem to be filled with sadness, just love. I miss them both and now I must go plant the pansies.

Crossing the veil

How many times have I said, “If I could go back for a day…”?

I did go back last night, in my dream state.

You see when I was a little girl, I had a crush on a little boy, I’ll call Tony, who was a grade ahead of me. He was a handsome specimen who loved the girls. Well, many girls—just not me.

I admired Tony from afar and feigned no interest.

My attraction waned as we aged and became adults. He was actually forgotten for decades. Then we were reacquainted on facebook. I was no longer in love with Tony but it was nice to reconnect with a childhood friend. It seems they are always like family to us in our senior years.

Then he died. I was absolutely shocked. Never expected that. I found myself wishing I had known he was ill. Perhaps I could have found ways to add to his life. Perhaps relived memories that we shared, memories that would have brought a smile to his face, that would have gladdened his heart.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for the little bit of time we two old friends were given before his demise.

Last night, we somehow met beyond the veil. We were young children again and getting to know each other better than we did the first time around. We became good friends. I was a runner. Living a couple of miles from the village, I ran to and from the village often. He lived there.

He began to run with me. I slowed for him and explained it was okay that he could not keep up with me, “You’ll get there. You’ve just not had all the practice I have. I’ve been running for years.”

When we ran uphill, it was a ladder and when you reached the top, you had to lift a little trap-door to proceed on the level ground.

Tony never went through the trap-door with me. I believe that was where the crossing of the veil was…

But as we ran, we communicated. Getting to know each other more intimately than we ever had in our past life (which we were aware of.) We became closer. We sometimes sat and held hands. At one point, before the dream visit ended, we kissed. Not a passionate kiss, but the closed-mouth kiss of childhood. The innocent and pure kiss of a kindred love.

One little peck on the lips, looking into each other’s eyes. Then I ran for home. Tony climbed the ladder with me, but I stepped up through the trap-door alone.

All Is Well

Had another visit from Mom and Dad last night. Mom passed in 2016 and Dad passed in 2013. They looked great!

Time is very fluid in dreamland. Many circumstances from several different time periods were all squashed together in my dream.

I faced my divorce in my dream and the reasons for it. Relief flooded over me as my mother and father both supported me. They offered financial advice and offered their home to me and my children.

At the end of the dream, my mother and I faced each other with a knowing smile. We both realized that this dream had fixed our problem. The disloyalty she once showed me, no longer mattered. All is well.

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