Dream Cell Phone Contact

I have had many experiences where I communicate with my mother via cell phone in a dream.  I have posted one before, but many of these experiences are brief and I decided to post them together for this reason.

The first time I really talked to my mother following the immediate aftermath of her death it happened via mental telepathy.  This completely freaked me out as I had never experienced it before.  I have since read books about mediumship and learned that this is actually rather common.  I think that during these visits my subconscious mind conjures up the cell phone to pacify my conscious mind, which is usually in mix since I dream lucidly.  The first time this happened is in my post, The Dream Cell Phone – A First Method of Contact.

I also believe this happens more often than I remember when I wake up, unfortunately.  I will be experiencing a completely normal dream when my cell phone rings.  I answer it (in the dream) and it is my mother.  I recognize that this is something special and that I am dreaming.  I stop whatever I am doing, sit down, and talk to her just like I did when she was alive.

On March 8, 2010 this happened and my mother told me not to forget to set my clock ahead for daylight savings time.  This may come across as negative or interfering to some, but when she was alive she always called to remind me, not to be a busybody, but because it was just part of the way she showed she cared.  It was not a long conversation – the cord to the phone kept tangling up and I asked her to hold on while I unplugged it to let it unwind and plugged it back in.  Unfortunately this also ended the call.  I pressed Send to see the number the call came in from.  It was her phone number from the home she lived in almost all of her life.  I tried calling the number back but I got the “this number has been disconnected” message that I would get if I tried the number in waking physical reality.

Recently I had another rather long and involved cell phone contact dream.  I took, before bed that night, about 1/3 of an African Dream Bean.  It started out as a vivid but  normal dream.  I was lying on a sofa in what looked like my parents’ living room.  It was arranged like it was in the 70’s with the sofa under the big picture window.  But it wasn’t an exact replica of the room either – it just resembled it.  I was taking a nap under a blanket and my son Henry was sitting in front of the fire in the fireplace.  The cell phone rang and I’d answered it.  It was my mother, but I was very tired and not very lucid at first.  I was complaining about my job and about how when I got home I was so tired all I could do was lie here under this blanket.

Then I noticed a bright light outside the window.  I pulled the curtains back.  “Wow!” I told her.   “It’s the moon!  There’s a full moon and it is huge and so bright!”

I got up and went out the kitchen door onto the porch.  The deck was not there yet – just the old slab porch that used to be there.  I was describing the moon and the constellations to her.  “I am looking at Cygna the goose and the Northern Cross,” I said.  “I am not sure why I am seeing these now because they are summer constellations!”  I realized I was dreaming.  I began describing the dream stargazing to her as this is always beautiful and amazing.  The moon in the sky was almost as bright as the sun would be and yet I could see all these vivid constellations with fabulous multicolored stars.

I went around to the front of the house to see if the Northern constellations were visible but they were covered with clouds.

“Remember when I got that astronomy book for Christmas?” I asked her.  “I remember studying it that following summer.  I wanted to see Orion the Hunter SO BAD!  But it was summer and those constellations weren’t up in the evening.  I actually got up at 4:00AM just to see Orion the Hunter.” I reminisced.

The clouds were clearing in the North as I checked again.  There was a patch on the ground that was phosphorescent, like the plants in the movie “Avitar”.  It caught my attention for a moment, and then I started telling her about “Avitar”.

The Northern clouds cleared away and I was standing in the front yard talking with her about the North Star and the circumpolar constellations.  The dream totally changed and I found myself walking along a sidewalk still talking with her.  I was now bright and sunny.  At one point I lost the connection but she called me right back.  As we talked I got the distinct feeling that we actually talk more frequently than I remember, and that my problem is more related to mediocre dream recall than lack of contact.

Knowing full well that I was risking ending the dream, I said, “Can I ask kind of a personal question?  I don’t want to offend your or anything.”

“Sure – go ahead,” she replied.

“Did you really die?  I mean, I don’t think I dreamed that.  I played harp at your funeral.”

There was a slight pause.  “Yes,” she said.  “I did.”

“Then I have to tell you how incredibly, completely grateful I am that I can still talk to you!  I mean – with you just totally GONE it was really awful – unbelievably awful.  In addition to being my mother you were pretty much best friend too.  And I know that we have to get over these things and move on to do the things we are here to do, and let the other person move on to do the things they need to do.  But to be able to talk from time to time is just this huge blessing, and I am really thankful for it.”

I don’t remember exactly what she said, but it was an acknowledgment and an indication that she was happy to talk also, but I got the feeling that I was getting so gushy that I was embarrassing her a little bit.  So I changed the subject.

“So is it fun over there?” I asked.

“Yeah, actually it is!” she said.

And then I woke up.  Definitely thumbs up for the African dream bean!   While talking about it at breakfast my husband was stuck by the fact that we didn’t really talk about everything that has gone on with my Dad lately.  He’d had a heart attack and for a while we didn’t think he was going to recover.

It’s not that we never talk about dad – but we didn’t that night.   Looking back on the experience  it’s as if I had temporary Alzheimer’s – I could easily remember getting a constellation book for Christmas in 1984, but I couldn’t remember anything about what had happened in the past week.  Maybe this is a protective device that is put on me so that my mother can’t interfere with the life lessons I have to figure out for myself.  The purpose of the contact is to maintain the relationship or just experience each other – not to “help” me by “cheating” and telling me the outcome of my current challenge.  And if I start to get too lucid – and there is a risk that my line of questioning will veer off towards answers she cannot give me for my own good – the contact ends.