Yesterday some friends were discussing their dreams of departed relatives. I reflected that I haven’t remembered any of my dreams for a long time.
Then, last night, I dreamed that I was at a gathering of some sort. I was talking to a woman about all the songs that had been written about Helen Hill: a song by PJ, a song by Dave Cash. In the dream there were many more.
The strange thing was that the woman I was talking to was none other than Helen herself. And it wasn’t weird or sad that I was talking with her about songs written after her death. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
The strangeness only struck me when I woke up.
Dude she’s still alive, yet just in the spiritual world … no longer in the material world (as I hummm along to the Police song)…. keep on dreaming and at HIGH volume. We all miss her …
Brett from Indiana/New Orleans
Ah, Brett beat me to it. Nevertheless…
You still believe that life is in the body? I thought you were evolved. Wait, you didn’t get the Scientology spam everyone else got. They must have pegged you out. 😉
I truly believe loved ones visit us….usually while we are sleeping and more receptive. Dreams often are reality….the world is a mysterious place. I have had my own experiences and I’m sure that we, as not wholly evolved humans, are oblivious to all that is possible. I think Helen was reaching out to you.
…. or perhaps it’s just acceptance, the final stage in the grieving process, at least according Elisabeth Kubler-Ross:
Denial (this isn’t happening to me!)
Anger (why is this happening to me?)
Bargaining (I promise I’ll be a better person if…)
Depression (I don’t care anymore)
Acceptance (I’m ready for whatever comes)
I had this very vivid dream about Helen coming back from someplace where she had gone to study very hard. This was the night after I read her obit in our alumni magazine, which brought all the tears back again. Of course, in the dream she was laughing about all the fuss.
I dream a lot about Helen, too. Sometimes when I wake up, I smile, other times I cry. I’m not sure what to make of your dream, but I bet Helen would be embarrassed to have songs about her. Take care.