My soul is calling out to me in my dreams…

Ideas to ease the transition of a loved one…

Bob and I would talk from time to time till he was transferred to the Palliative Care center in Saint-Jerome. I thought it weird that he ended up so close to where I lived. But it wasn’t, his daughter Sophie-Ann lived 10 minutes away too. Not all things are weird, coincidences or unexplainable mystical magic. And in some strange way having a bit of normalcy in my dream chasing life brought some kind of rational to this whole experience. At the end of my visit at the intensive care unit, his daughter Sophie-Ann and ex-wife, Nicole, came by. His daughter was head trauma nurse at the hospital he was staying at. She knew Bob and I were talking but had no clue on how I got back into the picture.

I scratched my head wondering how I should go about saying all that had happened? I’ve never been a dream chaser, anyhow not that kind! I mean who does that? No one in my entourage. But I couldn’t let it go, you know? I explained to her and her mother Nicole.
“Yah but you were always weird like that!” Bob chuckled.

I turned to him, “I’ve had premonitions, I always wake up in the middle of night and more often than not have to write things down,” I justified.
Bob laughed. “I had forgotten that. Yeah, I would turn around and see her sit straight as if she was on a chair, sleepy and writing.”

Sophie-Ann smiled, “You always were a little weird that way. But in a good way.” We laughed. She had no problems believing in what I told her. She told me she had a little weird side too. She heard things. Things that were not there, things no one else heard. I was curious and eagerly pushed her for an example.

“I was doing a double shift at the hospital and had to work early the next morning and so decided to sleep at my unit. They have places to sleep. I slept in one of the rooms away from all the commotion. In the middle of the night I was awakened by screams and cries of children, but was too exhausted to get up. The next morning I asked the nurses what had happened? Where were the children? The nurse said it was the most quiet night they had in a long time. No screams, no cries and no children. Then she asked me where I slept.
“Oh, that use to be the room where the terminally ill patients were.”
Sophie-Ann looked at me, “needless to say, I didn’t sleep in that room again.”
We were on the same page. We knew there was something more after we die. We knew also that there were things we couldn’t explain… we just took them as part of the norm, part of our respective lives.

The next few weeks were filled with discussions about death, the time we have before dying, how death can come so suddenly for some and a slow and long decline for others. This whole Bob dream infiltrated many of my nights and hence my days. I am certain my spirit, my soul had something it wanted me to do, but I didn’t know what. I talk about my soul as if it is a distinct entity that is not part of me. It is part of me, but at the same time, I rarely feel it. I mean who feels their soul, it’s not like an emotion. But it is like our conscience, that little voice that tells you right from wrong. What I believe to be your higher self. I believe my soul, my higher self wants to have certain things done. I just had to be open and listen. I listened. I heard more, no not voices like Sophie-Ann, but I understood or got the messages more since I went back to meditating. What surprised me is that I didn’t meditate much. Maybe half an hour a day. That’s it! Little did I know that this habit was going to bring me in to a whole new place!

I believe we have the ability to tap into different “wavelengths or different realms” one of which is the dream realm. I’ve always believed that when it is night and most people are sleeping and in the same state of slumber as you, everyone’s brains slows down, shuts down. Thus leaving the “air” time to rest from negativity, worry, anxieties. There, in our sleep we fall into Delta, where our brainwaves can tap into something, or a somewhere that is better, higher, more beneficial, infinitely good.

How we receive and interpret what we tap into is all very unique to the individual. I don’t hear things like Sophie-Ann, I see things in a problem solving way and I do automatic writing. Which to this day, still fascinates me. It is still wild how I can write without knowing what I am writing and also think at that exact time, “Holy crap I can’t believe I am doing this!” as I am writing and being astonished at what I am writing. It still is to me, mind blowing.

Last night was another one of those nights. Desmond had given up on me a long time ago, to persuade me to stay in bed and go back to sleep. He knows that just doesn’t work. Lord knows I’ve tried and believe me, I’ve forced myself to stay in my bed, but it is always impossible to sleep if something needs to be written. It’s not like I am possessed. It’s not like that. Let me give you a peak at how it all goes on inside my head.

I am in a deep sleep and as Desmond can tell you, in a straight second I am completely awake and have no clue why. As I try to fall back asleep my brain starts.
“I have to write this down. Oh my God, this is a fantastic sentence, phrase, idea. No, go back to sleep, don’t worry, if it’s important you will remember it when you wake up. No I won’t! Yes, I will. Then I would repeat the word as a clue endlessly. Or, if I really want to go back to sleep will tape it on my iphone, or send myself a message. But sometimes, okay most times, my brain goes into this spin and won’t let me think of anything else. Even if I try meditating myself back to sleep, it doesn’t work. So, I silently say “FINE!” and get up, take the notebook and pen on my night table and walk towards the living or kitchen and sit down and then… two hours later, eyes still half closed and in a semi-sleepy state… I crawl back in bed. Only to be awakened an hour later by the chaotic sounds of morning.

I wish it was night and I was still sleeping instead of awake. I gather my blankets close to my body, wishing the warmth will lull me to sleep. The coffee grinder starts, then the vitamart blender whizzes. Desmond is making my smoothie and coffee. What a wonderful man… but now I have to get up.

Desmond knows I’ve been up writing. He can tell, I look like shit and I am not dressed. My bed is certainly not made. I shuffle to the kitchen and walk around the island, grab my smoothie, kiss Desmond good morning, hug my mom and sit down.

“Babe before you start, just let me have my coffee!” Desmond demanded. I nod and acquiesce to his demand. “Poor him, he has no clue what’s coming next.”