Dreams Do Come True I awoke from the dream and lay there thinking about it for just a few

moments before my pressing schedule required that I get up and go downstairs to began another workday morning. I was having lots of dreams during that time, so even this one, with my mother standing next to an inner spiritual guide we both had studied under asking if she can come and stay with me for the last four to six months of her life, didn’t stay with me long. In the light of a busy morning, I figured it might be symbolic of something. I didn’t really give it much more thought than that. Months passed and I forgot totally about the dream. The day before my forty-ninth birthday and five days before my mother’s seventy-ninth, I gave her a call. I was feeling this deep sense of gratitude to her for giving me birth and I wanted to thank her by taking her out for dinner on my birthday. When she answered the phone she was shy and timid, which was not like her. She had always been an extremely opinionated person and her relish for a good mental battle had grown over the years into an obsession. She and I never spent a normal time together anymore. It was always a test to see how long we could be pleasant before she would try and pick a fight. In the last decade I had struggled not to get drawn in and fortunately was becoming more successful with each passing year. But my reluctance only seemed to redouble her efforts. My forgoing of our ongoing war happened because of an incident ten years earlier. We were sitting in a restaurant waiting for our meal. She and I had already drifted into one of our common battles. Our skirmishes always began with a few snide comments followed by a hit parade of hurt feelings and past sins. We had been very close when I was a child, but as I entered adulthood each of our disappointment in the other had grown, blocking out the love that still flowed strongly enough to keep us coming back for more. As this particular dinner battle grew in intensity, it struck me how bad this fighting made me feel. Had all my trying to best her or illuminate her on the errors of her ways, really changed anything over the years? At that moment, the strangest phenomenon occurred. My right eye continued to observe the restaurant but within my left eye a movie reel began to play. Scene after scene appeared and then vanished. In them there were only two players: this person who was now my mother and I, not as we are today, but as we were throughout history. I saw us as brothers in Ancient Greece and then rivals in Ancient Rome, then as a king and an oppressed servant, a pirate and a captive, an abusive father and terrorized daughter. We were constantly changing places. In one life I was the oppressor in the next, the victim. This Soul and I had locked on to each other and spent an eon trying to love and best the other while working through all the foibles and horrors we humans visit upon others and ourselves. Scene after scene played, it seemed there was no end. Then an inner voice asked if I wanted to keep this theater of experience up? The answer that burst out of me was a resounding no. Then it said, just stop doing it. So simple… just stop. I made every effort from that moment on to stop the battles. But for her, the desire for them just seemed to grow stronger. It was as if my very being was an angry drug to

which she had become addicted. I sometimes failed and got swept up in fighting again but through it all, I kept the vision of the two of us ending this life in spiritual love. So when I called and this tiger of a lady came across as shy and a little scared I gently prodded her to tell me what was going on. Finally, she confessed she had been in bed, not sick, but not right either and since there was no food in her house, she hadn’t eaten for two days. I told her to hang on I would be up there in an hour. When I got there she was smiling and grateful for my help. I bought her groceries and cooked her dinner. The next day I drove up to her house again and took her out to dinner like I had planned for my forty-ninth birthday. We ate at a very tacky Red Lobster since it was the only restaurant near her house. I remember thinking this was not how I had envisioned this meal. I took her home with me that night. The follow-up with the doctors was onerous but through it all, she was so kind and cheerful, bearing it all with a childlike sense of acceptance. So different from the attitude of suspicion and barely hidden contempt she had leveled against these same men just six months earlier. Now I was the one doing battle with the American health care system. I knew something was very wrong with her, but I didn’t know what. The true nature of her illness wasn’t revealed until she had a falling accident at my sister’s and broke her hip. A scan of her body before surgery revealed cancer in several places. The most worrisome was in her brain. The doctor, who was explaining her condition, got a smile on his face. He asked if she was easy to be around. My sister and I laughed telling him that since she had gotten sick she was. He told us that the area of her brain most affected was the area that controlled negative emotions; the cancer had eaten it away. He said she was terminal, but that she would have a very pleasant few months. It was then I remembered my dream and her request. After her hospital visit, she moved back in with my partner and I. She had never liked or accepted my partner during the twenty-seven years we had been together, but now, she adored him. She called him, “The Genius”, and would not do anything unless he approved. I became Mr. Blue Eyes. Some mornings she would awaken with news from her travels on the other side. Her first comment being a mild complaint about all the things she had to do before they would let her out of this place. Then she spoke about a school she was attending. Sometimes she would utter comments such as: “If people only knew how much love is in this world.” or: “You know all those things I used to believe. Well, they aren’t true.” We got so we looked forward to hearing her little spiritual messages. Through the following five months, she suffered very little pain and by late summer had drifted into active dying. We all spent time with her, filling her room with uplifting music, stroking her hand and putting very small doses of morphine under her tongue to help ease her struggle. One Friday night, I sensed she was close, so I laid out some blankets on the floor in her room and started to settle in to be with her. Suddenly, a cascade of whitish light filled the area at the foot of her bed. It was my father who had died over thirty years earlier. I was very surprised to see him. It had never entered my

mind he would come. He responded to my thoughts. “She was my wife, of course I am here, I loved her.” Then he told me that I needn’t stay, she would not pass for three more days. I left and went back to my own room. On the eve of the third day, I lay my pallet on the floor so as to be with her. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her leaving her body to begin her journey. She came to me from a heavenly realm. The beauty and shimmering vastness of Soul, like worlds upon worlds, was beyond what I had imagined. Humbled before her, I was struck by what an evolved Soul she was. She smiled and a window upon eternity opened. She told me that she had come into this life to burn through a bunch of accumulated negativity. That rather than do it over a series of lifetimes she had wanted to burn through it as quickly as possible. I realized that through the cancer she had done it literally as well. And, although she never mentioned it, I understood she had also wished for us to end as we began, with love as brothers in spirit. There is a strangeness about how a freed Soul relates to an earth-bound one. She didn’t really thank me for putting up with or helping her, although that might be how we in this world might interpret the impressions she sent. It was more an acknowledgement of the omniscient quality of love and gratitude shared by all of life. I felt badly that I hadn’t been kinder to her and that I had been blinded by my own judgments about her. But in the way of love, this inner meeting altered my view of people. It made me realize that each Soul is here on a mission and that the miniscule fragment that we see, with all its problems, is but a shadow of the greatness that lies within.

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