Prophetic Dream?

“Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.”   ~Victor Hugo

When considering stories, dreams and experiences to share, I decided not to select them in chronological sequence, but instead in random order because that’s how they unfold in life. In regard to dreams, even after being an active dream worker for nearly 35 years, I am always astounded how tuned-in those nightly dramas are both personally and globally. I often hear the term, “prophetic dream,” and as much as I am a fan of using it myself, it may just be a phenomenon of our primitive psyche/subconscious that is highly attuned and at work in the background like the “sleep mode” on a computer that is turned on, but we’re not aware of it.

The following dream/incidents illustrate the prophetic ‘knowing’ that I believe we all can access — some have worked to develop it, and for others it is a natural extension of their consciousness which is as familiar as breathing.

I corresponded with my former mother-in-law (who I will call Joan) for years following the divorce from her son; we had an unusual bond and the fact that her son and I went on to create new lives did not interfere with our respect and love for each other. Although I had written several times throughout that year, I had not heard from Joan for about six months and wondered if she was ill or still alive, as I would probably not be on a notification list if that was the case. Then I had this dream December 12, 1999:

“I am in Dallas, TX trying to locate Joan who was there with her husband (who pre-deceased her many years earlier) visiting their adult grandchildren, but I can’t find her/them. I am riding in the backseat of a car filled with people and JFK, Jr. is sitting next to me and I feel sensitive to the publicity surrounding his death. I am so close to his face, I can literally see every pore and how he resembles both of his parents. Then it occurs to me his father, JFK, was killed in Dallas. I get out at a street corner in heavy traffic, but make my way to a bank where I ask about Joan – I feel close to finding her and uncomfortable about the dead people in the dream.”

Then on March 9, 2000 I was driving to my writing group via a rural hillside and as I crested the hill, I saw an enormous emu running full speed up the hill straight for me. I swerved and it passed me on the opposite side of the road. It was a startling event that really grabbed my attention! I wondered if something significant was afoot, which is usually the case when these anomalies occur. It was a few days later that I understood the connection to it…and my dream.

On March 25, 2000 there was a note in my mailbox from my former sister-in-law letting me know about Joan’s death on March 9, 2000. Her daughter said she’d moved her mom home with her in December (about the same time I had the dream), as she was getting confused, but had improved and was her normal self looking forward to her 91st birthday on March 10th. However, she died the day before it and was without pain or disease.

The dream and emu were prophetic harbingers that served to prepare me for the news of her passing and let me know she was thinking of me. Joan understood my love for large birds (I had an Amazon parrot all the years she knew me), and that emu would have been the perfect vehicle to signal attention to that date and time.

I believe if we embrace and expand our awareness by making note of significant feelings, events and dreams that punctuate the rhythm of daily life — it will yield an abundance of “knowing” that will multiply and amaze.




The Monument

To pinpoint when I first became aware that my experience of the sentient world included different dimensions of consciousness is not clear, but I gradually pieced together that it was not the same as others’.  A vague collection of feelings, memories and intuitive knowing evolved where I realized that not everyone shared the same level of insight. The mix of childhood imaginary friends, a prolific dream life and a preternatural family history rendered me conscious and I eventually surrendered to the gifts from my psyche.

I came by my love of the esoteric, psychic and unexplained phenomena naturally. My grandparents on both sides and my mother regularly experienced mystical events which I learned about story by story when growing up.

I was barely seven when my grandfather told me the story of what happened to him prior to the U.S. entering World War II. Granted, the world was already in deep conflict and massive unrest and change, but what he experienced in a small town away from the angst of the daily headlines of war was nothing short of miraculous.

It was late Fall and early one morning he decided to go fishing at his favorite spot on the Des Moines River. He said it was foggy and the mist was dense, but with heavy waders and a love of fishing, he headed out despite it.

When he arrived, he prepared his gear and entered the water’s edge. He said clouds of mist hovered over the water as he stood in the silence of the early morning waiting for that strike on his line. He walked a little farther downstream and the fog swirled around him, but noticed it started to lift as the day warmed. He stood and waited, then looked up and saw something emerging from the water downstream. It was a huge pillar rising from the icy depths of the river into a brilliant glowing monument towering over him.

Fearful, he stepped backward to the bank unable to take his eyes off the apparition; he scrambled to scoop up his tackle kit and rushed headlong back to his car with pole and creel in hand. When he arrived at home still shaken, he told his wife, my grandmother, about the incident and she said in her intuitive wisdom that she felt it meant something terrible was going to happen, but that it would eventually be okay as the monument was a comforting image.

Not long after the news of the bombing of Pearl Harbor filled the airwaves; my grandparents’ idyllic lives in a small mid-west town were changed forever. Their sons would enlist in the war and life as they knew it would never be the same. And the monuments of war would be erected inside all nations. My grandfather knew for certain that his vision had been a prelude or warning to the days of turmoil that followed.