My latest dream or out-of-body-experience- Claudia-Tara

[Guest guest]

Dear Tara,

 

Your very touching experience brought tears to my

eyes. Whether a dream or an OBE, it strikes me as

very real and I would not be at all surprised if you

discover one day, without having to ask your aunt and

cousins, that this private ceremony of love acutally

did take place. What a wonderful thing to do for

someone who will be leaving you! So often we don't

get, or we don't take, the time to say goodbye, and

the gesture of making a personal card expressing all

that a loved one has meant to you is so much

more...something that would surely mean so much to the

dying person as well as provide a treasured keepsake

for the survivors.

 

You were very blessed to be a visitor at this

ceremony, Tara. Thank you so much for sharing it with

us. I will keep your uncle Dennis in my prayers.

 

Love & blessings to you and your family,

Claudia

 

--- tara jacoby <tjmassage7777 wrote:

 

>

>

> tara jacoby <tjmassage7777 wrote: This

> dream I had was about uncle Dennis.

> I'm not sure now, if it was a dream or an

> out-of-body-experience.

> Since I don't have the heart to question them [Aunt

> Helen and cousins] about

> the details- during this difficult time, I will

> simply keep it to myself.

>

> It begins like this:

> I was at Aunt Helen and Uncle Dennis's house. I was

> not in the physical form.

> I looked as I do now, except transparent. I was also

> unseen. I was noticing all of this as I seemingly

> appeared in their house, and as I 'landed' there, I

> slowly became

> aware of my surroundings, and aware of my reality

> as a non physical being.

> I noticed, as I 'felt' the air for energy..and

> turned toward the closest being- that

> I was standing in front of their dining room table.

> My aunt was sitting at the table.

> She is always optimistic and cheerful, but this time

> she was sitting all alone, in

> darkness. She was holding something that looked like

> a really big card. She just held it in her hands,

> and never shifted her eyes from it. She looked as if

> she was in deep thought, as her eyes continued to

> helplessly stare at it. I looked down a bit, to see

> her face. It held a look of overwhelming pain..one

> which cannot be expressed. I felt it, and I thought

> I would fall to the floor with the sadness. I

> realized however, that the non physical body reacts

> differently to such pain and sorrow, than the

> physical body- and although I still had the weak

> sensation, I did not fall. I wondered if he had

> died..if that's what she was experiencing. The way

> she held the card, and the way she stared passed it,

> and the immense pain which emanated from her

> reminded me of my reaction to Mischief's passing.

> I wanted to see what she was looking at. Without

> even thinking, I turned my palms upward and raised

> my arms a bit, and I lifted up from where I 'stood'.

> As I thought of where I wanted to be- I was simply

> there. I had shifted to behind her chair, so that I

> could look on what she was holding. It was a card,

> but it was also like a memorial. It was very sad to

> look at, and I could feel a sensation of pain and

> warmth flow over my face. She made this card with my

> cousins. She was now putting some finishing touches

> around the perimeter- some fancy stitches with

> colored thread. The card was I think, material. It

> seemed to be a fairly stiff kind of fabric. Each

> cousin had made part of it, complete with their own

> memories of favorite times with their dad, and a

> little bit on what he has meant to them. It kind of

> reminded me of a patchwork quilt, what with the

> material and the pieces done by each one, and at

> last sewn together and stitched fancily around the

> edges. She seemed to be

> finding peace in creating this..it was her escape.

>

> I thought, ok..his birthday has passed- it's not a

> birthday card. There is no special occasion right

> now..so what is the purpose of this card.

> I thought, has he died? Then I wondered, why would

> she make a card for him if he has passed, and why

> would she make a memorial for him if he's still

> alive?

> It just didn't make sense to me.What was she doing?

> I wondered how cold she must have grown from this

> hurt..from enduring all of this..to be able to spend

> her time making this memorial while he's still

> alive..to be able to detach herself so much that she

> feels as though he's already gone.

>

> Then I began to wonder if he was still with us.

> Once again, I shifted my position, by raising my

> arms and palms. I was suddenly in the room in which

> he was staying. It was not his own room, but it was

> transformed into a comfy version of his room. It was

> more convenient for him to be in this room. I saw

> him lying in the bed. He was very weak, and still-

> but he was still living. I thought, " How could

> you?..How could you waste away your last days with

> him while you make that project, as if he's already

> gone? How could you be so cold, and how could you

> leave him to waste away- all alone in that room,

> while you spend your time doing this? " I couldn't

> understand, and it made me both angry and sad. I was

> standing near to him, but he couldn't see me.

> Suddenly, the door opened, and a procession of

> cousins, holding the card and lead by my aunt..filed

> through and crowded around one side of his bed.

> I thought, " No, you can't..you can't give him that

> card and make him feel like you want him to be gone!

> How could you? You can't, you just can't! "

> I was sad, so I shifted my position to behind the

> other side of the bed- away from them. They handed

> the card to him and kissed him on the head. He

> smiled as he read it, and as he looked at the

> craftsmanship used to create it. He held the card,

> and they held him. As it turned out- my aunt had

> decided she didn't like the way in which- at a

> funeral, the family tells the crowd what a wonderful

> person their loved one was..only the loved one is

> already gone. She wanted him to hear it while his

> body was still alive. She decided to create

> something that he could hold and look at, and which

> they could always keep..which would depict the kind

> of love they shared, and the greatness of his giving

> nature, which they loved so much..and the memories

> held dear by each one. He shed a few happy, yet

> bitter tears. I felt like an intruder..this was a

> private family time..and I didn't belong. I felt

> sadness for no belonging, but I knew this was a

> special time that they needed to have alone

> with him. This time, I walked out..slowly, with my

> head down..trying to sneak away without being seen,

> or getting in the way and causing a disturbance in

> the midst of their special day. I 'landed' [suddenly

> arrived] in my bed, and my face was wet with tears.

> And that's the end of my 'dream'. I'm still not sure

> if it was a dream or an out-of-body-experience. My

> aunt has always made craft with her children. She is

> a very crafty person, and I think she finds peace

> in that.

> Love and blessings,

> Tara

>

>

>

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