I decided to interrupt the long dialog I have going on my experiences with my mother to write about a series of events that happened just this past week. It felt like a major milestone for me – instead of these things being entirely an “inner” experience, for the first time they were occuring specifically for the edification of someone else, and I was the intermediary.
Last year some long time friends of ours from one of our musical pursuits was diagnose with lukemia. This couple had suffered a great deal over the year before that due to an accident suffered by the wife – Toni – when she fell off a ladder. Having her husband Bob dealt this blow while they were still struggling to deal with the fallout from Toni’s injuries. She made a pretty remarkable recovery – we all feared she would be confined to a wheelchair. But as anyone who has gone through something like that knows, there are always long term complications to be dealt with.
I think on some level we all felt that Bob would recover because it would be just too unfair otherwise! We heard through a mutual friend that Bob wasn’t doing well a month or so ago – was still in the hospital undergoing a lot of treatments but things seemed to be taking a turn for the worst.
Then this past weekend I had a dream where I saw Bob’s newspaper obituary. It was brief and I almost forgot about it, but something the next morning jogged my memory. I told Bill about it and suggested that he should call Toni because Bob might not be here much longer if the dream meant what I felt it did.
So a few days later Bill did call and Toni told him that they had stopped treating Bob’s cancer because it had advanced too far, and had sent him home on hospice care. She invited us over to see him, as he had been enjoying all of his friends coming to see him as people heard about what was happening. She asked him who told us and he made some kind of excuse, not wanting to tell her over the phone that his wife had some freaky dream!
On Friday night we went to see Bob, who although weak was still very much himself. I was really nervous about this visit! Nervous because I felt I’d been tasked with giving them a message, but I didn’t know what – or giving them a reading, which I don’t know how to do! Or maybe offending them badly and being run off with torches and pitchforks. But I sucked up and went because you have to learn to trust the process, and I really wanted to see them before Bob crossed over.
We get there and go into Bob’s room, which is absolutely cracking with otherwordly energy. As soon as I walked in I got a mental image of a man we met when visiting Toni in the hospital a year and a half before. He also had lukemia from what I remembered, although this was long before Bob had his diagnosis. I remembered him telling us about how he discovered he had it after he was just dog tired for weeks, and couldn’t figure out why, then when to the doctor and the next thing he knew he was getting chemo!
Bill took his violin along because Bob also plays, and in fact had taken a few lessons from Bill over the years. When Bill took his violin out I realized who was behind it – Grandpa Anderson! I realized that Grandpa Anderson REALLY likes my husband – thinks he is a great violinist and wishes he could’ve played that well when he was alive. But my husband is kind of leary of Grandpa Anderson, party because he’s dead and partly because he was a character when he was alive and well, he had some issues.
So Grandpa Anderson is all excited because Bill showed up and is going to play, and I realize he has some connection to the zillions of friends and relatives Bob has hanging around helping him out through this process.
I know they are there because I feel like I am connected to an electric fence, and if I let my eyes de-focus I can kind of make out the outlines of them, like auras.
In the subsequent conversation I learn that the nice guy we met while Toni was in the hospital has since died and he is the first person Bob wants to see on the other side. He won’t have any trouble finding him because he’s already there – that’s why the image of him popped into my mind the minute I walked into the room.
I tried to do what I’ve heard other mediums do – I asked them if anyone close to them who died was into collecting or keeping up with obituaries. They didn’t take the bait so I thought maybe that was my queue to shut up. After all these people are deeply religous and leaning heavily on their faith during this crisis, and maybe they don’t want to know that we are here because of a psychic dream and that the room is full of dead people (albiet ones that are already in the light and are there to lend support).
But alas, after we left Bob to get some rest and went downstair to talk to Toni and her sons alone, Bill outed me. Toni asked again how we knew and Bill said because I had a dream. And the reaction was pleasant and curious, so I told them the whole story including the high points of what happened to me when my mother died. I explained that someone in Bob’s past family history knew my Grandfather and went through him to get a message to me, for no other reason that to let them know that Bob will be OK and that, well, their loved ones on the other side know what is happening and care enough to hunt someone who can bring them this message.
I could tell that this comforted them a great deal. It is one thing to have faith that you have been taught and trusted because you made a conscious decision to do so, but another to KNOW. And the knowing is on many different levels. As we go through life’s experiences we (hopefully) move farther on the contiunium from mere belief to that kind of knowing. I think having a validating experience that can only be explained by paranormal means is often a jumpstart to that kind of knowing. At least I hope so.
I am encouraged because this ability is starting to become more outward focused instead of being exclusively a solitary experience. Because honestly for it to be an inward experience alone would seem like kind of a waste, when there is a whole world out there dying inside because is it afraid of death.