A Scheduled Meeting With The Dead

VISITING WITH THE DEAD:



Now, here follows a strange experience up for consideration. This is, or rather was, a dream I've kept private up until now, because it reveals the dynamics of an uncomfortable relationship with my adopted mother.



First, let me give you a little background information regarding my mother and myself. I was adopted at age 2 1/2. I was an 'only' child, as my parent's natural children (3) were all deceased by the time of my adoption. My new parents were wonderful, I was very well taken care of and undoubtedly loved & wanted.



However, there was also a thread of strangeness, one I've never been able to unwind, to answer to my satisfaction. (Which is a topic unto itself, and not necessarily pertinent to the subject at hand).

Nonetheless, my adoptive mother died when I was age 11, due to a major heart attack. She was 45. Three days after her death, she appeared to me in a dream, coming in through our front door. Even though I dreamed, I knew she was dead. Her silence, her altered appearance, her very presence terrified me so I hid. I refused to come forward and greet her.



Oddly, for the next 35 years I did not dream of her. I did not see her. In fact, while considering the numerous dreams of 'the dead' I was experiencing on a fairly regular basis (and still do) - those other loved ones and close friends who did visit in my dreams - my mother's absence was almost conspicuous.



Now, my adopted mother did not abuse me in any manner, shape or form. We spent a great deal of time together, as it was. She taught me the basics of art, she taught me to appreciate classical literature by the time I was nine, to the point I was reading grades beyond my level, with a high comprehension such that I was placed in a program (VIS) for very intelligent students. All this I attribute to my mother's influence.

There is so much more to tell, as my mother's life, above and beyond her relationship with me, was mysterious in ways I've yet to unravel. I wish I'd asked more questions when I was a child, but now it is too late. And in case you may wonder, my adoptive father is also deceased, and so the family door has swung closed.


There is no one left to question.


So. Years and years, as they are apt to do, have passed since I lost my mother. Then, in a remarkable dream, and via a type of arbitrator, I am given an opportunity to 'schedule' a meeting with my mother. I was fully aware she was deceased, but no longer fearful. Yet, as much as I wanted to meet with her, I could sense ... not a misunderstanding ... but a certain tension that stood between us. An unknown wall.



But I agreed to the meeting, and it actually took 'time' (real time, btw) for this meeting to be arranged. I was to meet my mother at such and such a time, at the park, and at least one invisible 'other' would be present to monitor the situation, to escort my mother to this place where the two of us could be visible to each other, to communicate. A way station comes to mind. Or a breach between two worlds. This detail in itself was strange, and is hard to precisely communicate to the reader. But details such as this were, are important. Looking back now, it seemed that there were perhaps four of us present at this meeting. My mother and her invisible escort, myself and my guide/or invisible escort.



And so I arrived at the park, via a bizarre dream state. I was a little tense, a little uncertain. There sat my mother and this invisible presence I was barely aware of (I saw her escort as a faint, fuzzy lighted blur - a smudged ghost would be a good description). Not coincidentally, the two of them sat at a card table, and now I realize it was a replica of the old lightweight wooden card table my mother
used when she was alive and would conduct a seance, to make the 'table' rise, and answer questions with knocks "once for yes, twice for no".



Anyway, my 'guide' stood back, watching, and I approached the card table and took my seat. I will never forget those few, hesitant steps to the table. Or the strangeness of my mother's appearance. I'd like to say that she looked beatific, that she looked youthful and glowed with health and vitality, and exuded love through her very pores. But the 'reality' was different than that, and defied words to describe:



1) She was overlayed, different and much, much more than my mother ever was. She had a depth of being far beyond the ego/personality I once knew. As if I had only known the surface, the human shell, and here sat a soul dense with the mass of greater experience. She was changed. This is so hard to get across, but even though her appearance was human, she was unfathomably more. And not in any way we are often given to suppose. It was high strangeness to say the least.



2) Basically, she resembled (and only such) her mortal appearance, yet she was slimmer, her hair reddish (gone was the gray) and she was serious in a way I cannot understand. And so we looked at one another. We stared.



3) And in this staring, we communicated (of a sort) without thought, without language. There was no sense of ESP or telepathy in the commonly used manner. The communication took place by the very closeness of our proximity to one another, and through the eyes. I 'felt' that whatever it was that had been communicated, that did transpire between the two of us, it somehow bypassed my ego awareness. Sadly, the wall - whatever it was - was not breached/healed by this meeting.



4) I had the notion that somehow, aside from being a gift of sorts, this meeting was also an experiment. I want to say a 'failure', but I am given to state that it was a 'disappointment'. More had been expected.

And honestly, even though I had been given a wonderful childhood, had never been mistreated or neglected, I was relieved to put this meeting with my mother behind me.

Here, as an aside, is the only other dream I've had of my mother besides the one immediately following her death AND the meeting I've described above (for a mere total of three dreams in 40 years). This dream took place roughly five years prior to the 'meeting' dream.

My adoptive father had just passed away. I had to travel out of state to attend his funeral. Driving all night, I reached my destination in the wee hours of morning, with only a few hours remaining to grab a little sleep before it was time to get busy with the visitation.

And so it was that at 3:00 a.m. on the morning of my father's visitation/funeral I had a completely unexpected dream. I saw my father standing before me in the living room where my body lay sleeping, and he said to me, "Tell everyone I will be there at the funeral. But they won't recognize me because I will be dressed funny" (was dad speaking metaphorically referring to his soul/new form as strange/funny?). Anyway, after dad told me this, I noticed there on the far side of the couch, silent and unobtrusive but obviously in attendance on my father, sat the figure of my mother. Waiting and watching while dad conducted his 'business' with me.

Both parents appeared younger, thinner, recognizable yet vastly different. And as far as my father went, I had no sense, no awareness of his ego being 'overlayed' as I described my mother's as having been. Then again, there lay an interim of 33 years between their deaths.

So in conclusion, and at the time of this post, while I have had numerous dreams in which I have seen, spoke and received instruction from my father, I've yet to dream again of my mother.

Will we meet, scheduled or not, again in this lifetime?

I've really no idea.