RE: My latest dream or - Paul

[Guest guest]

Thank you, Paul.

You are wonderful for taking the time send me your peaceful words.

Love and blessings to *you* and to all of *your* family.

x,

Tara

 

Paul F <paulffff wrote: Thanks for taking the time to write that

Tara... That was very nice to

read.

 

Blessings to you and all your family...

Paul

 

 

>tara jacoby

>

>

> Re: My latest dream or

>out-of-body-experience- Claudia

>Wed, 9 May 2007 02:11:00 -0700 (PDT)

>

>

>

>tara jacoby 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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> Check out new cars at Autos.

>

>

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