Last night I had a dream of my father. He was young, strong and carrying me on his shoulders so that I could see what is above. It was a wonderful vision depicting a moment I have no memory of ever having lived through. My father died somewhat unexpectedly three months ago, and I find I am still processing that one of the great loves of my life is no longer here. I have a friend who lost her husband some years ago and she tells a story about how in the aftermath of his death she felt a rush of his presence physically move through her. She knew it was him and she felt a profound sensation of his love throughout her being. For some strange reason I was convinced I would have a similar encounter when my father passed. He was a part of me; we shared intense physical and personal characteristics. He raised me, supported me, disciplined me and longed for my happiness and fulfillment. Surprisingly, when he died there was no sense of his presence, no supernatural events; none of the mystical encounters I assumed would be a component of his departure. And now a sliver of a dream has brought me such comfort.
The Bible is filled with examples of God using dreams and visions in order to communicate specific information or direct the course of human activity. However, in spite of being of a fairly fanciful nature I have never had cosmic messages, or if I did they turned out to be misinterpreted. I often wonder about the validity of such experiences and yet if they bring the recipient comfort and reassurance who cares about the legitimacy of their origin. Perhaps we are designed with the ability to close our eyes, float into sleep state and enter another realm of consciousness in order to envision the unimaginable, to encounter the unrealistic, to conceptualize what the mind rejects in the daylight.
In my spiritual tradition we believe that we are in communion with the Saints and so is it not possible that those we love who have passed over continue to be connected to us in inexplicable ways? What if their communication with the living is limited to dreams, shadows, distant music and currents of air? Is it conceivable that in their lifetime they loved and protected us and in the next life continue to find ways to raise us up on their shoulders so we can see beyond the barriers of this life? I wonder if those we have loved and lost are always waiting . . . waiting to lift us up so we can see a greater view ~Prospero: Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air. And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. The Tempest Act 4 William Shakespeare