Dreaming of Souls

24 Jan

  heaven

When I was three, my mom caught me speaking to an empty window. She asked me whom was I speaking with, and I said “Lola Toyang,” (Grandma Toyang) in all innocence. Lola Toyang was my mother’s grandmother. She died long before I was born (but, hey, I didn’t know that). My mom was a little scared but she asked me to describe what I saw. She looked at the space where I was peering at, smiled sadly, and said, “I love her.” I still have a very vivid memory of that day, as I have, too, of the kindly old lady by our window.

Someone once told me that my sensitivity is attuned to those who have passed on. I choose not to believe that person because in truth, I am afraid of this “gift.” Over the years, however, I’ve come to realize some truths about this particular aspect of my person. When I was younger, I could see them by accident. I saw an old lady with long, white hair standing by the kitchen sink; I think she was doing dishes. It was early Sunday morning, not yet seven, and I said hello to her while on my way to the bathroom. I really thought she was our help, the one who came in during the day to help out my mom. Turns out that the help was off for the day.

In high school, at a student convention I attended, a beautiful lady standing a few meters away from me and my friends smiled at us. When I walked up to her to say hello, she disappeared.

When I was much older, I saw a little boy with brown curly hair inside my sister’s bedroom. I was babysitting a little cousin that day and two-year-old Ken was asleep in my arms when I thought I saw something moving from the corner of my eyes. I turned to see the boy and when I blinked, he was gone.

These experiences decreased, thankfully, as I grew older. Perhaps I was losing my innocence. Then again, maybe it was because fear overcame my extra senses and forcefully shut them down. Maybe my cousin was right after all when she said that I choose not to see. Whatever the reason may be, I am grateful that this is a gift that will never develop into fulsome. And yet, I still dream.

In freshman year in medical school, I almost flunked anatomy. Gross anatomy required dissection of a cadaver and my group of four was assigned to the body of an old woman. Dissection was carried out in stages, with the cadaver head to be unwrapped from its formalin-soaked covers only toward the end of the year. Thus, the group worked on a “faceless” body.

I told very few friends about this but for almost the entire year, I dreamt of an old woman every night. She would hide behind doors in my dreams, and as soon as I passed through the door, she would jump from behind and hug me. I saw her face many times in my dream and I would awaken with a startle and a scream each time I did. I wasn’t sleeping very well after a few months of this nightly “visits.”

Toward the last few weeks of the second semester, we were instructed to start dissection of the head. I held my breath as my groupmates slowly unwrapped the head for maximum exposure. Still, I already knew in my heart that I would see none other than the woman in my dreams. I was right. (We had Mass said for her, God bless her soul.)

And then for over a year when I was 26, I dreamt of a little boy with black eyes (no whites, just all corneas) asking me, “How is L?” The dreams were different each night, but this boy always managed to come in and ask the question.  And then one day, I suddenly recognized the little boy from one of my husband’s grade school photos. He was a classmate who died in a tragic accident, and L was the girl he married just before he died. The dreams stopped when I saw L, and I finally got an answer to how she was.

I dreamt of my grandmother, my grandfather, my mother-in-law many times after they passed on. In each dream, they always seem to have a message meant for the loved ones they left behind. My grandfather visited me in my dreams a few times, once after he died, a few times later when I was pregnant with Alphonse, and a few more times since then.  In one dream, he was deeply concerned about the rift that had developed between my mother and my grandmother, and asked that they make up soon. He also told me that he risked a lot to come to me. He said he missed Pizza Hut.

My grandmother visits when I am sick. She was most vivid during the time I was gravely sick in the hospital in 2001. She was with me every night then and I came to realize that she watched over me during those times.

When my mother-in-law died in her sleep in 2005, for months, I would dream about her always looking sad, hiding in shadows, or crying from afar.  About a year later, I dreamt of her standing outside what seemed to be the school where my sister-in-law works as a first-grade teacher. I’ve never been to my sister-in-law’s place of work before. A few weeks after my dream, my sister-in-law recounted that during a family day in her school, her four-year-old son said very matter-of-factly to his mom, “Mama, Lola is here in school.” “Grandma is in the province, son” she told him. “No, not her. The one in the church,” he insisted. (Mom rests in an ossuary in our church.) Was my dream even related? It seems to me that Mom was watching over both of them that day.

In 2006, on Alphonse’s birthday, the family stayed in a luxury hotel to celebrate the little one’s birthday. Tired from a full day of celebrating, we went to bed early. I dreamt that night that my mother-in-law was in the room with us. In my dreams, Alphonse hid underneath the duvet in fright. Mom was mouthing words I could not hear as only static filled my ears. I could only understand the words “I love you,” which she mouthed repeatedly. I saw her lean over my sleeping husband and kiss him gently on the forehead. I remember trying to wake him up but he wouldn’t budge.

We’ve never really found out what time she died in the night; the family refused an autopsy in observance of her wishes. In the dream, I asked her what time it happened, and she mouthed “Two o’clock.” Then she seemed to fly through the large glass window of the hotel room. I woke up gasping for breath.

When I opened the light and looked at the time, it was still dark out. The clock said 2:05 in the morning. Alphonse was awake, shaking in fright, eyes round as saucers, hiding underneath the sheets. I dreamt of her, yes, but did Alphonse see her? Maybe he did because he refused to sleep the rest of the night. He simply hid beneath the covers till the sun was up.

And then just this week, I dreamt of a cousin’s grandmother, long dead. I hardly knew her, except for the time when we were very small and she invited us to my cousin’s party in her home. Monday night, I saw her in my dreams visiting my cousin’s children Enzo and Isabelle, kissing them and hugging. She also said that were my cousin to move to a new home, she’d prefer that they move in with her daughter (my cousin’s aunt) instead. I didn’t understand any of this until I mentioned the dream to my cousin the next day. She understood right away and added that they had all forgotten that Monday, January 21, was her grandmother’s birthday. I had goose bumps when I heard that.

I don’t like it the least, dreaming of dead people. When I think of them that way, I get chills all over. And then I realize that these souls were loved ones, once part of someone’s life. They are remembrances of love and laughter, of warm embraces and wet kisses, of “I love you’s” said and unsaid. And I am their continuation in life, just as my children are mine. I remember that once upon a time, before their bodies went cold, their hearts beat with love for me. Then I am thankful that they remind me and watch over me still.
 

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4 Responses to “Dreaming of Souls”

  1. FXSmom January 24, 2008 at 5:05 pm #

    My stepdaughter does this too. We have a guy who hangs out outside of our window at about 9 every night. He wears a blue shirt. She told me one day that he told her that his name is Jonathon and he is just lost and likes to watch our family. I can usually tell when this child is full of bull and she was dead serious. Plus I have walked by that window and saw a “aura” of blue. How can I deny that?!

    I think there are just so many things we can’t explain in this world. *shivers* ~♥Kittymama

  2. leira January 25, 2008 at 4:03 pm #

    that is a gift and something scary at the same time..i would understand kung bakit ayaw mo maski ako Ayoko talaga nang ganyan.. i was offered by Jaime Licauco to open my third eye ayoko talaga.. i would have a heart attack talaga if that were to open magpakita sila. kaya talaga when i feel someone or something i tell them out loud wag papakita sa akin.i know they would say matakot ka na sa buhay wag sa patay.uyyy pero on a positive note puede mo gawing new career parang John Edwards ka pero female version

    Ay, ayaw! Whenever I have these dreams, I feel as if I didn’t sleep at all. I wouldn’t want them on a regular basis.

  3. Cris February 4, 2008 at 2:27 pm #

    Embrace it, dearie. Because there is nothing to fear about them. It is only their consciousness left behind that you see. Not them per se. And they have very little power over you. Medyo Ghost Whisperer ang dating mo ‘no pero buti na lang di mo na sila kailangan kausapin for their crossover issues. 😀 It’s not your job.

    The more you would understand your gift, the more you’d be able to understand Alphonse’ episodes. Am pretty sure Alphonse got it from you.

    The reason why you’re tired after these dreams is because you partly went out-of-body. Consider it a normal part of the process.

    Once you’ve embraced it, you can even go further and see higher beings and other beings of light and understand the energy of manifestation. This gift is more than just about ghosts and spirits.

    Cris, with a million and one things on my plate, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy to take this to a higher level. Besides, unlike you, I’m really a big chicken. But I thank you for your light and guidance always. It’s an honor to be your friend. ~♥Kittymama

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Okasaneko » Blog Archive » Operation Tag: ME - January 24, 2008

    […] I have an unusual sensitivity to paranormal experiences. (See previous post entitled Dreaming of Souls to fully understand.) I don’t want […]

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