Most people see what they expect to see, never looking for what may be hiding under the obvious. This is why, I believe, Sherlock Holmes was and is such a beloved character – his ability was to see what was no longer visible to others. His powers of perception went well beyond most. For the greater percentage of people, the obvious is really all there is, it is an enviable life for someone like me whose world can’t be explained in such simple terms. What I wouldn’t give to have Sherlock explain so many of the unexplainable situations in my life. I suppose this is why we seek out shamans and tarrot card readers, so we can be told what is no longer visible to the naked eye.
Because of my conversation just over a week ago with a shaman, I was inspired to once more search for information on my grandmother. A memory resurfaced of something which happened to me as a child and a dream in the year 2000 where my grandmother (or at least I believe it was her) wanted me to join her in the after life. This was my interpretation at the time. Today after considering it again, I see a different reason for her presence.
In the dream of 2000, I was frightened of her, something I can’t explain, although she had cuts on her neck and was bleeding, so perhaps it was as simple as that. As a young child of 6 this would not have been a comforting sight, as an adult it bothered me, yet until this day I was unsure why she would present herself to me in this way. Her death in reality was from cancer, so at the time the cuts and blood did not make sense. However if the dream (mentioned below) is connected to my experience on August 11, 1999 when my neck was cut by shards of glass, perhaps mi abuela was only showing me the danger my life has always been in due to my heritage. Perhaps on that day it was her hands which I felt cover my neck in order to protect me from the worst possible outcome. With just one small cut close to my jugular vein being allowed to show me just how close I had come to possibly dying that day, had the hands of her spirit not protected me. So it is not necessarily that she came to me on the day as a child I split my head open to have me cross over, as the dream suggested, only that she was tying the two events together in order for me to understand the dangers I face. Rather than trying to pull me over to be with her, she was asking me to fight to live. Despite how it looks to others who only can see what they expect to see, she wants me to know there is so much more to my story.
Memory dream
January 25, 2000: the dream about my grandmother
This dream seemed like it took place in two different dimensions.* It brings with it a familiarity, a memory from something that happened to me when I was a child, related somehow to this dream.
What I first remember is a woman who seems intent on killing herself, but perhaps this is just how it appears. She was obviously in anguish about something, crying and very emotional. She had a broken piece of pottery in her left hand and there were large scratch like marks on her neck close to the jugular veins that were bleeding. I don’t know if they were self inflicted or not, but it feels like she was the one that made them. It also seemed as though she was unaware of what she had done, I felt if she was serious about killing herself the cuts would have been deeper. Was it just for attention, or was she trying to feel something, anything?
It starts to get a bit muddled at this point, where memory mixes in with the dream. I start to see that I am lying down on a table or perhaps it is the kitchen counter. I was unconscious and there is blood on my neck too. This woman seems to be in my thoughts and it feels like she is calling to me to stay with her. For some reason she is making me feel guilty and I didn’t feel safe with her, didn’t like her. I started to feel maybe I was dying, and this frightened me. I felt so sleepy, but I knew I had to wake up. I seemed to understand I had to focus on something, an image that would help me get through it, but I couldn’t remember what that image was supposed to be.
In the end I saw a mountain peak. There was a lot of blue around it, the sky I guess and the peak was white. The sun just rising above the mountain. I stared hard at the image trying to figure out what it meant and this is what brought me back. The woman disappeared and I was aware I was now awake in the dream. I realized I was a small child through all of this and was crying for my ‘mommy and daddy.’ At the same time I saw myself as an adult and was calling for Patrick to help me.
This is when I woke up, still feeling the emotion of the situation. Because I could not fall back to sleep I lay thinking about what I had dreamt. Broken pottery, broken glass, cuts to the neck on or close to the jugular veins…is there a connection to this imagery, both of my actual experience and the image from this dream?* Was it simply to show me the danger I have always been in due to my heritage? I have many times over the years experienced situations such as these, almost like déjà vu, so I cannot help but wonder at the timing of the dream so soon after my experience on August 11, 1999 when the glass window was shattered in close proximity to my face and shards flew past me. The hands of Spirit covered my neck, protecting me from the worst of it, however there was a small opening where skin was cut. There were small cuts on my arm as well. Saved again – a truly amazing experience!
*After thinking about it for a few days I realized it was a both a memory and a new experience, because the feelings associated were familiar. I think I was remembering the experience as a child, but I was going through this as an adult. That I was calling Patrick makes me think I was aware of this being in the present. What happened to me that night as a child was never something we talked about, so I never knew for certain if my life was threatened as it was in the dream, but I suppose it was possible. While lying on the counter, I am vaguely aware we were waiting for an ambulance to take me to the hospital, but I’m really not sure of many of the details.
These are questions I now ask: Who was the woman calling me to join her? Was she someone who knew me? Did I know her? Was she calling me to the other side of the veil to join her in death? I believe there must be some connection for me to dream of this incident so many years later, but I still do not have full understanding of it.
Che Guevara’s mother died May 18, 1965. This could be the woman who was calling me to her. It makes sense she would want me with her, or was she there only to protect me, give me comfort? Like peeling an orange, the understanding comes in stages as new information surfaces. She would most likely have known me but I would have been too young to remember, not having seen her from the time I was a baby. I would likely have been scared of her, because of the blood and injuries I was seeing, feeling as an empath her emotional state at the time. Because I am left to speculate when this happened, these are the pieces of this particular puzzle which I was able to create a picture with: I would have turned 6 in the year 1966, the playoff final game played on May 5th that year. The Montreal Canadians won the Stanley cup that year. So, this would make it almost one year after my grandmother died and a year before my father died. I was feeling very “alone”, in my new home, surrounded by people who never liked me, let alone love me. I believe it was spring at the time this happened, still cold outside, but not winter cold, so I am sure they were watching the playoffs, which made the games potentially longer with overtime play
Also, if I can make this connection to the woman from my dream who would have been my grandmother, I would have to add she was very close to her son, missing him terribly while he was away. Could the cuts represent her anguish, knowing what he was going through, unable to help him, sometimes not even knowing where he was yet all the while transparently clear of his impact on the world. If she died not seeing her son for so long a time, her sorrow would have been great, I believe. Che was in Africa when she died.
Experience from my early childhood mentioned above, which may be connected to the dream about grandmother:
When I was five or six years old I had been bothering my brothers who were sitting on the couch watching a hockey game. I really hated the games, wanting them to turn off the TV. The games and the length of time they were on was a reminder of my isolation, having nothing in common with this family. I felt very lonely on evenings like these as their focus was completely on the game, so I had no one to talk to or play with. It was unfortunate I could not find inside myself the reasons to enjoy the game so I could join them. I had a scarf, I think, and was dangling it in front of them wanting their attention, hoping they would play with me as I stood behind the couch. My brother pulled the end of the scarf but I held on tight, not willing to give it up. He let go suddenly and I fell backward.
Right behind me was the hallway with a folding door that was closed to keep the heat in the lower floor of the house. The folds had metal pleats and it was on one of these I hit my head, splitting my scalp. I don’t really remember much else after that except I was lying on the kitchen counter with my head over the sink. Helen had my head supported in her hand, the water was running from the tap in the sink. I think she was washing the blood out of my hair. The only other thing I remember was being at the hospital for stitches to be removed, not dissolving stitches back then. I will never forget the feeling of the thread being pulled through my scalp – hard to describe actually.
July 11, 2019
Follow-up vision experienced while in Ecuador connected to the childhood experience:
I really had the most amazing experience this morning around 3:30 am. I’m not sure I can describe it properly because it was a very spiritual one, leaving me quite amazed. I also had a difficult time coming back to myself, the depth I had to go to receive the information must have been great.
It was one of those experiences where I seemed to be in present day as well as being a child. In this case, I was being given the opportunity to remember the gift I received as a child – the gift of choice for life or death. I imagine this type of gift does not present itself very often, and this is why I was shaken, knowing first of all what a great gift it was, and secondly to be reminded of it now.
To begin with, what I remember was laying very still on my left side as my body slowly became paralyzed, maybe similar to a heart attack, but there was no pain. At this point I was in real time, experiencing the reality of possible death in those moments. I was completely aware of Mali’s body laying against my legs as this happened. I became enshrouded in deep blackness, something I cannot compare with anything else. I seemed to gently roll more on my back as I began to feel the numbness in my left arm. The blackness grew heavy, making me drift into unconsciousness, realizing as I did that I was indeed dying. I was not afraid, nor did I resist the feeling of sinking at first, but suddenly I thought of Lucas and called his name.
It was at this moment as I said his name, time seemed to change and I was a child, I believe I was 6 years old. I was now on my right side facing the wall. It was in this moment as a child facing the same situation, encased in this blackness, I was given the choice, to either accept the death I so badly wanted, or to continue with my life. I told the energy giving me this choice, that I would continue with my life, I would see this to the end as promised. The blackness supporting me dissipated and I became aware of my childhood bedroom. There was a light on in the bathroom, but I am unsure why. Did I just come out of there and forget to turn the light off? I am unsure of the significance of this detail, but I wonder if it pertains only to the awareness of time and place. Perhaps though, because I was always afraid to get up in the middle of the night, unsure of what I might find outside my door, the light represented some degree of comfort with the situation. But as I thought about this, I also began to hear a radio or tv in the background with a hockey game playing, very muffled, but identifiable. I also heard mentioned the name Trudeau, as in Pierre Trudeau, but this confuses me. It must have importance however, or the information would not have been given. This is when I came out of the vision, my mind heavy as I tried to digest what just happened. It’s importance is not lost on me as I realized the truth of this memory and the significance to me now.
It was a little difficult to wrap my head around the idea my life may have ended in the wee hours of this morning. For if I had decided to let death take me back when I was 6 or 7 years old, I would not be alive today to share my story. My son Lucas whose name I called, would not have been born. I cannot help but be reminded of the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life”. A story giving us the opportunity to see we do not always understand the importance of our contribution to those we come in contact with and how their lives would change were we not there. While I did not see how the absence of my existence would affect others, I was able to understand perhaps my life does have value, something I have always had trouble accepting. I believe I was closer to this understanding at the age of 6 than I have been for most of my life since.
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