Following my dreams
Sitting here alone, feeling sick from Covid and isolating from the world has been incredibly difficult. You’d think 10 days of doing nothing would be welcomed, but it’s becoming a constant challenge of not wallowing in grief and memories about the passing of my mother just a few days ago.
All my life, I have worked hard to ignore this little voice inside of me that seems to be more than intuitive. I can’t even count how many times I have felt and seen things before they happened. They all come to me in my dreams. If I didn’t know any better, I would say it’s because I am in a relaxed state and I can’t block or ignore the signs then.
I didn’t see my mother’s passing. The night she fell ill, I couldn’t sleep. It had nothing to do with her, because I had talked to her a few days before and she sounded good. My mom wasn’t a healthy woman and we knew her condition was only getting worse. Still, we didn’t expect it so soon. That night, I thought about taking some Ativan to calm my thoughts. I decided against it for 2 reasons; one- I know once I use it, I have less control over what passes through my mind and I didn’t feel I had the energy to decipher any signs that night, and two- My pills were downstairs and I was just too lazy to get out of bed.
I received the call the next day and I was angry with myself. Why didn’t I take some Ativan after all? Maybe I would have seen something. My mother’s condition was critical, but she was conscious. I went to bed the following night, taking Ativan just to see if I could receive a message or have a meaningful dream.
I didn’t have to fall asleep to see something. Here was my mother, dressed in a white dress with her blonde hair loose, just floating in a purple light. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. My children and I were lucky to speak with her on Christmas night via Facetime. It was quick, but it was nice. She recognized everyone.
After receiving a call on the 26th that her condition wasn’t getting any better, I drove to be reunited with her the next day. From the moment I arrived at the hospital, she never regained consciousness. She passed away at 15:55 on December 29th, 2021.
I have now tested positive for Covid and am isolating in my mother’s condo. It’s the first time in 27 years that I am here alone. I sit where she used to sit, I watch her television and use her blanket to fall asleep. I have nowhere to hide. I am grateful to have somewhere to isolate, but all I see is her.
I woke up around 4:00 this morning. Couldn’t go back to sleep. I checked my Facebook, had a few words with my love and an hour or so later, I fell asleep once again and this is when it happened.
I finally had a dream! There she was. I know it sounds crazy for many and most people don’t believe in it, but I know when it’s just a dream and when it’s a meaningful dream.
I was walking in a very busy shopping mall. People coming and going, like a sprint before Christmas. I was in a hurry. I had to find a book for Vayda. Where everyone was on the move, here was my mother on the side, standing still. She had a stroller with her. She had her famous blonde hair and was wearing a denim outfit like she used to in the 90’s. She looked a bit like Dolly Parton. She had her famous tan on, but looked younger and so healthy.
She said hi to me. As I walked towards her, I was confused.
“Mom, you know you are dead right?”
“Yes, I know. But I can do whatever I want now.”
She looked good, happy.
I told her I was in a hurry. I was so busy lately. She said:
“I know. That’s good because you don’t have time to miss me. It’s really not the time for a party. All I want is to eat cake.”
She was trying to explain what she wanted and I said, I know. Those little log cakes. She smiled and said YES!
Like I said, sometimes it makes no sense. The cakes she was trying to describe were the Vachon’s Swiss Rolls.
Before we left on our separate ways, I said I will call you and realized I can’t anymore. We looked at each other and I said, well now I can talk to you all the time.
That’s when I woke up, still sick, still stuck here, but feeling ready to write her praises for her celebration; celebration still up in the air because of Covid, but hey, let’s have some cake.