Visitations from the Deceased – Psycho Psychic
In April 1968, I was two months married, and residing with my husband in our first home. A home a good friend, then serving in Vietnam as a medic, had not visited. Through letters (there being no internet or inexpensive international calls in those days) we had been planning a party at my home for his next leave, which was estimated to be perhaps in July.
Then one night in the midst of a rather general processing of day time stuff dream, in that dream my doorbell rang, triggering a dream shift. I answered the door to discover my friend standing there. I was full of questions, such as how and why was he here NOW; why had he not told me of an earlier leave? He brushed all those questions away without actually answering them.
I took him on a tour of the new house. We talked and laughed. It was all very REAL. As real as any waking world experience. Then suddenly, another dream shift. It seemed as if now we were speeding along in a low slung race car of some type. Sitting with feet straight out before us; he in the driver seat, me in the passenger seat. We entered and sped through a grayish tunnel in which there were swirling vibrant multicolored lights.
Then yet another dream shift. We were standing now in a room. It felt like a room, though I could see no walls or furnishings. It was a room. At this place, he began telling me that I could not continue on with him beyond this point. I was outraged. It felt as if we were on a wonderful journey. How DARE he say I could go no farther!?! Wasn’t that up to me to decide? But he persisted calmly and pleasantly stating this was as far as I could go.
He told me my husband would “take good care of” me, and that I would have three children. Then he began walking away toward what at first appeared to be a very distant tiny point of light.
As he walked, it seemed the light traveled toward him, becoming larger. A vibrant shimmering electric silvery blue. Three times, he paused, turned toward me, smiled and waved. As he walked into the light, in the dream, I screamed out his name several times.
And I awoke, setting up in bed hearing myself crying out his name. It woke my husband as well. I was so distraught from the dream, I called off work that day. A few days later, news came of his death in Vietnam.
This occurred in 1968, seven full years before Raymond Moody’s book “Life After Life,” was published. Reading Moody’s book, I recognized so many elements of the near death experience EXCEPT I was not near dead. When I shared the dream experience with family and friends, a friend postulated that IF Bob had allowed me to continue on with him, I might have been found dead in bed of unknown cause that morning. I do not know.
That was my first potential visitation with a deceased friend or loved one. I was 21 years old.
Other experiences followed. On the morning of my maternal grandfather’s funeral, in January 1974, I received a phone call. There was so much static it was difficult to make out the caller (remember landline phones). But the voice seemed to be that of my grandfather, and he said: “Hazel? Hazel?” then the line went dead. Hazel was my maternal grandmother’s name.
Bob, my deceased medic friend, visited me in dreams three more times over the next 20 years. Once waking me with a message. That time his head and torso seemed to be hovering over me in the air above my bed; though as soon as the message was complete, he vanished like the turning off of a light bulb.
There have since been other experiences. For example, in 2013, a friend seemed to alert me in a hypnagogic state (when one is slipping from waking consciousness into sleep), sending image of a message on Facebook; asking if I could see it. The image and message were so persistent that eventually I pulled myself out of bed and checked my Facebook page. Nothing on my news feed, nothing from him on my page. When I checked his page, I found a R.I.P. note from someone very close to him. He had passed in his sleep the day before. Years earlier, he and I had jokingly made a pact that whoever might exit first would attempt to communicate.
Backing up just a bit, November 19, 2011, 12:15 am. My husband and I had just gone to bed. Neither of us was asleep yet, though we were slipping in the direction of sleep. Suddenly, I sensed my mom floating into the room to my side of our bed. There was a gentle pat on my shoulder, and she spoke my name. I told my husband: “I think mom may have just passed.” Immediately (as in as soon as I uttered those words, and before my husband had time to respond) the phone rang. It was my brother calling to let me know that mom had passed at 12:05 am. Ten minutes before I sensed her presence breezing through our bedroom, 80 miles away.
Most recently, two nights in a row I had dream visitations from deceased friends. Were it not for the fact that I had a bout of hives and was taking Benadryl at night to quiet itching, I would wonder if my own time to cross over might be near. I mean four individuals over the course of two nights is a bit alarming.
First night, the friend who might have communicated with me via the hypnagogic Facebook post, popped in to say that he was “glad that I.E. is continuing in some form.” And a boyfriend from my teen years called me on the telephone to say, “I’m just calling to tell you goodbye.” This episode was so real that I actually Googled his name to see if he’d recently died. Nothing online to indicate that. I don’t know where he is, or I would contact him to inquire of his situation, as he is (or was) one who actually researched anomalous experiences as part of a course he took in prep school back in the day.
Second night, the deceased husband of a client popped in with a message for his still living wife. That message has been delivered. His appearance was followed by a friend who in life was a psychiatrist with interest in anomalous experiences. His message was a personal one for me.
Are the Benadryl dreams as reliable as dreams that come when no substance is involved? I don’t know. What I do know is that each of these experiences FELT like very real visitation. The essence quite different from that of a dream.