What Dreams May Come…..They really DO make us pause….

THIS WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN BY ME ON FEBRUARY 10, 2010 ON MY BLOG VIA MYSPACE… I DEDICATE THIS TO ALL WHO HAVE INSPIRED ME TO UNEARTH IT ONCE AGAIN SO THAT ~ THOUGH PAINFULLY PERSONAL IN PLACES ~ I MAY SHARE THIS WITH ALL THE PERSONS I MOST ADORE AND RESPECT.  (August 28, 2010 at 7:11pm)

Dreams.  The most compelling mystery in the universe has to be about what makes all living creatures dream, the absurd and relative nonsense that is often quickly forgotten once we wake up.  But there is always that ONE dream that strikes you as strangely significant… relevant in some inexplicable way, but in trying to describe it aloud… there are no words to put the dream into perspective. I had a dream like this a few days ago, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out what on earth my brain was processing! Certain bizarre details really stood out to me, though, and usually I don’t remember what I dream about… it is rare, in fact.

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Some of it I understood, like when I climbed this ladder and had to squeeze myself through an opening which brought me in to my childhood bedroom–every object was in its place, my old bed, the dolls, books and toys that I loved most; I was immediately hurled into this intense state of nostalgic familiarity… as though I had actually traveled back to when I was five! Obviously, I was revisiting an important place in time that meant something to me. But the rest of this dream was like some …… mystifying carnival of madness! (It was so vivid that I kind of want to write a book about it, actually….)

Here is something that I have discovered only within the last ten years. Shakespeare once penned the ultimate question: “For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil? … Must give us pause.”   Death and dreaming are two very different things. But when you think about it, are they really all that different? Case in point:

A few years ago, we lost a close relative in our family, my husband’s uncle, Bill, who died suddenly at the age of 42. He was the kind of person who made an impact everywhere he went, he was out-going and boisterous. He was a fixture in all our lives, but most of all, he was like a brother to Brad.  So when he died, it was completely mind-blowing!  The night of Bill’s death, though, I dreamed about him ~ and it was more than vivid ~ where he was leading me from one department store to another, all the while explaining to me that he was worried about Brad (my husband) not taking care of himself and dying young. Bill distinctly told me that there was going to be a funeral. At this, I remember crying and bargaining to Bill, “but what if he loses all his weight??! Then he won’t have to die, right??” And I truly thought that he was telling me that BRAD was going to die, that the funeral Bill spoke of was for HIM.

A knock on my bedroom door woke me up from this dream, and it was my daughter, Elayna, who walked in and told me, bluntly, “Bill is dead.” I shot up out of bed. I remember telling her, “But… I was just dreaming about Bill!” (as though that should negate what she just told me!)  But I had never had a dream about Bill before–in fact, he and I rather disliked each other most of the time.  So why would he come to ME in a dream??

My theory from that day forward was that I was the only “portal” that Bill could access by way of a DREAM to tell me of his concern for his beloved nephew. Brad never dreamed about Bill that night… so, that being the case, who better to relay this last wish than his nephew’s wife? After he died, I was so devastated, I felt such regret for always feeling so angry with him. But I was honored to have provided some peace for Bill, knowing that Brad understood his concern for him; Bill made it his last priority to ensure that his nephew not wind up in an early grave as he did.

The only other time I experienced a “visitation” dream was when my step-grandmother died. I had been at her bedside just a day before she passed, and I told her how much she meant to me (I had known her from when I was as young as five years old; she was the only adult in my life who ever believed in me, the only one who told me I was a special, unique, loving person.)

A year later, I dreamt that I was driving by the retirement home that she had managed for half of her life, but it looked different, it was made of red bricks. I saw her on the crest of a hill, with well-cared for flower gardens as far as the eye could see, and she was smiling brightly at me. She looked exactly as I had remembered her when I was a child: strong, energetic…. glowing! … ever tending to her beloved garden. I ran to hug her, which is something I NEVER did in real life (she was not a big “hugger”), and she vanished as I threw my arms around her. But I was left feeling peaceful during a particularly tumultuous point in my life.

My step-dad is an atheist, but one day I asked him about his mother, specifically, did she have a penchant for red brick buildings/architecture and he stared at me, surprised. “Actually, yes… she did!” (Like, WHY would I know this??) and I described to him the dream I had about his mother, about what appeared to be her utopia (heaven?) This was the first and only time I saw him rendered speechless.

So….  dreams.  It really does give us pause…. don’t you think? Perhaps that is where we go when we die… just drift off to a never-ending dream.

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