Like many normal adults I have always found the various fields of psychic phenomenon very interesting. Even back when our children were young, I would read predictions of modern self-proclaimed prophets and then wait to see if they came true. They didn’t.
All those years ago I wondered about people who said they could communicate with spirits. I thought about that for awhile, but came to the conclusion that if a spirit wanted to communicate with me he or she would have to do so in some conventional earthly manner at my front door in broad daylight.
One day I saw a television show that featured a so-called seer who heard a voice that allowed her to predict the future. “Hmmm,” I thought, “maybe I haven’t been talking to myself all these years.”
I talked it over with a friend who had seen the same show. “Well, what would you do if you heard a voice?” she asked.
Considering I could barely hear her over the noise emanating from all eight children playing in the house, I had to admit that if I heard one more voice I would probably yell, “Quiet! It’s enough already!” There was no doubt in my mind that nothing from another world would be able to penetrate the human barrier which was all around me every day.
Today all of our children are grown and gone, living their lives with their own children. We are grateful they are all close enough to visit frequently, but the noise that used to pour from our house daily is less frequent now. And in all honesty, if I heard a strange voice in our house I would probably scream for help.
But coming from a strong Irish background on my mother’s side, I am very aware of dreams. I do not believe that dreams have universal meanings and one size fits all as far as meanings go. But I do believe you can interpret your own dreams by matching your dreams, if you can remember them long enough, to things happening in your own life.
When one of my daughters was in the third month of a difficult pregnancy, I was very concerned about her and the baby. Then one night I had a dream. A person I had called my guardian angel when I spent a long scary night in the hospital as an emergency room patient suddenly appeared at my bedside dressed as an angel. He was holding a tiny baby, and he told me, “It’s a beautiful blue-eyed baby boy.” I slept on and worried a lot less about her until six months later when she delivered a healthy and beautiful blue-eyed baby boy.
Several years ago when we buried our son John, I was devastated. The Irish in me kept waiting and hoping that some how, some way, I would hear from him. It was a long time coming, but finally one night I did have a dream.
In my dream I was in a familiar place when I looked up and saw John across the room smiling at me. He looked so good. I got up and walked over to him. I told him how much we love him and miss him. Then he spoke, “Mom, whatever you do, don’t ever eat a cheeseburger!” He flashed me his impish grin, and then he disappeared.
I pondered over that for a long time, and I didn’t eat cheeseburgers. Some of the family I told about the dream would smile knowingly when I refused cheese on my burger. Finally one night, a waiter brought me a cheeseburger instead of the hamburger I had ordered. I sent it back and he returned it to me with the cheese scraped off. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I ate it.
I awakened that night with terrible stomach cramps and was violently ill for 12 hours. None of the others who ate with us that night got sick, but none of them had cheeseburgers. The diagnosis was probable food poisoning.
Now, as a fairly intelligent, educated person, do I believe in dreams? Well, probably not, but I’ll never eat another cheeseburger.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This column was first published in the Daily Advocate May 18, 2005.
Kathleen Floyd is a volunteer citizen columnist, who serves The Daily Advocate readers weekly with her column Back Around the House II. She can be reached at email@example.com. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.