I have had several experiences like this. The most profound for me was a dream that I had about my brother. He died in March 1989, and I had this dream in September 1990. In the dream, I was walking down the street and my brother was walking towards me. He looked well and just as I had remembered him. He was wearing blue jeans, a blue plaid short-sleeved shirt, a navy blue sleeveless vest, his brown hush puppy shoes, and a cigarette in hand. I knew he was dead. We walked passed one another and then I stopped, turned around and called to him, “Brian…” He turned and said, “What?” I replied, “Are you going to tell me what is going to happen?” He said, “No. Janelle, if I told you what was going to happen, you would have to come and sit with God and the angels too. What I can tell you is that you will be just fine.” And he walked away. When I woke up, I knew the dream was ominous. I went to see my mother and told her what happened and I said that in my heart, I knew he was preparing me for my husband’s death.
There was no reason to believe that Gerry would die. He was 5 months post-injury and by all accounts, the doctors felt he was doing okay… they didn’t think he would get any better, but they didn’t anticipate further complications. In my gut though, I knew something wasn’t right. Three weeks after I had the dream, he died of a massive heart attack at home. This was completely unexpected.
Have you had a mystical experience? Were you able to share it with someone?
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In 1996, I sustained the first of two Traumatic Brain Injuries. I clearly "experienced" the presence of my father who had died many years earlier. "I'm sorry," he communicated without words. "Me too," I answered through my eyes only. I was sorry he had died so young of his first and only unexpected heart attack when 49 years old. I was also sorry I had not yet had the courage to come out to him as a lesbian woman. He reached for me. I looked at him strangely and "said" that the "dead aren't supposed to touch the living". "I know," was the silent response and I sensed tears and sadness in him. "My play! They're doing my play tomorrow. I can't..." I sensed him fading away and felt the breath of a stagehand friend on the back of my neck. "Are you okay?" he asked. "No. No, I'm not." I couldn't explain what had just happened. I saw the light and it was NOT the theatrical lights shining from overhead, where I had just been with my Dad. It wasn't the dead touching the living that I had experienced. It was the dead touching the near dead. "Take my cue," I said, as I somehow wound off stage right from where I had previously been. I couldn't explain to anyone what had happened for years. When I finally did, the medical provider said that she there was a lot of anecdotal evidence of such experiences and that whether it were the TBI or a mystical experience didn't matter. The explanation wasn't important. What mattered most was that my Dad was with me when I needed him most. I definitely believe, "yes, he was!"
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