A few minutes ago, I was changing into my pajamas. I thought I heard my mom talking upstairs, so I stopped and listened. I didn’t hear anything and continued with what I was doing – changing my clothes, hanging up the laundry I’d just taken out of the dryer. Typical things.
A quick trip upstairs was all that was left for me to do in order to figuratively check off everything on my list for the evening. I always make one last “walk through” before calling it a night. I make sure the doors are locked. I check to ensure that the alarms are set on both my car and my mother’s car. I make sure that Mom is doing okay and I say good night – assuming she’s awake, which she usually isn’t.
Tonight, as soon as I came upstairs, I heard my mother call my name. So, of course, I went to see what was up.
After the second time saying, “What’s up, Mom?” she finally asked me if I’d been walking around. I told her that I’d been downstairs and just walked up a second before she called my name. She said, “I’ve been hearing someone walking through the house. I called your name and called your name, thinking it was you, but you didn’t answer.”
I told her that I’d been downstairs the whole time, but that I thought I’d heard her talking. But when I listened, I didn’t hear anything.
All she said was, “I know I heard someone walking through the house. Your grandmother must be here.”
What could I say to that? Well, I said the only thing I could say. “Yeah, most likely. Well, good night. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”
Please understand…I was not dismissing what my mother said. On the contrary, I was acknowledging it as a truth. We’ve said for years and years that our deceased family members will sometimes be in the house. If a light that we know was turned off in the basement is suddenly back on, well, that’s Grandpa playing tricks on us. He was a trickster, for sure.
My grandmother talks to my mother in her dreams. If mom is mulling over a decision to be made, Gram will often let Mom know her thoughts in a dream. Gram has talked to me too – not as often – but she has.
The most vivid thing I remember was the first Christmas Eve after Gram passed away. I was dead asleep. I mean I slept through every alarm I had. Then I woke rather suddenly. I got up, put on my shoes, and walked upstairs. My aunt was there, too, so I mumbled a happy birthday to her as I walked to the kitchen counter where my mother was cleaning the bell peppers. (It’s tradition on Christmas Eve to make Stuffed Peppers.)
I looked at the peppers, picked one up, held it up to my mom and said, “Gram says the opening needs to be larger.” I put the pepper down and went back downstairs.
Why is this significant? For a few reasons:
- I don’t like peppers. Because I don’t like peppers, I don’t eat stuffed peppers, so I have no idea one way or the other how they should be made.
- I don’t really cook. Well, I do now – I’ve had to step in and help with the holidays now that Gram is gone. But up until that point, I was never involved with making the meal for Christmas Eve.
- I don’t dream. Really. Okay…I dream. But I never, ever remember my dreams. Ever. If it’s a particularly strong dream, I might remember the tone – creepy, happy, scary, f’d up. But I don’t remember the people in the dreams or what they say or what they do.
So, yeah, my grandmother is still here. I find that comforting.
My mother has always been much more in tune with deceased family members – particularly her parents. Grandpa has talked to Mom in dreams and she’s actually seen him. So, yeah, my grandfather is still here, too. Something else I find comforting.
Have you had experiences like this?
I fully understand where you are coming from. I had a brother that was killed at 17, It was a hit and run. Anyways the evening after his funeral I stayedat a friends as I just couldn;t stay at the house that night. I slept on her couch in the living room I awoke at approx the same hr at which he was killed according the the coroner and had to go to the bathroom. When I say I had to go like I horse I lie not, But something just wouldn;t let me go to the kitche to access the bathroom; They say most people cannot hanlde seeing the dead. I know in my jeart it was him but could not go. In some ways I regret it, I would have done anything to see him one last time. Then the other time was when I was having surgery and I said to Elizabeth everything is going to be ok. At the moment the nurse walked in I could smell my grandma Henehans smell. I knew she was there to watch over me. Mind you she had passed when I was 13. So it was that long since I had ssen her but I knew her smell. They do watch over us.
Thanks for sharing, Jocelyn!! That’s a great story.
Absolutely, my parents and grand parents show up in my dreams as well as in life. I remember a few months after my mother died I was at a craft show, admiring some woman’s work at a booth and all of a sudden she stopped crocheting and looked up at me and said “you look beautiful” then went right back to her project. I was stunned because I did not know this woman and the way she looked at me (I would swear her eyes changed color) had an aura of my mother, and those were the last words my mother ever spoke to me. I said “pardon me” to the woman and she looked at me and shook her head and said “I didn’t say anything”.
I don’t usually get a message from my folks or grandparents in my dreams but when I am troubling over something I usually see them in a dream which reassures me they are around.
Thanks for stopping in and sharing, Laura.
Oh yes. The most recent example (and oddest) was when my birth-father passed away in 2009. He and I weren’t particularly close, but I’d worked hard at a relationship. At about 3am (PST, he lived in Florida, I’m in CA), I woke out of a sound sleep (I, too, am a SOLID sleeper). Got up, walked through the house to the kitchen (the opposite end of the house), picked up my cell phone and brought it back to the bedroom. I made sure it was on and got back into bed. Sher woke up and asked what was wrong and I replied, “I have to have the phone here for when Patti (stepmother) calls, Pop just died.”
Not a minute went by and the phone rang. My pop had passed at about the time I woke up. Kind of freaked Sheryl out a bit.
I have to say, I sure wish my Gramma would pop in, I miss her and Grampa every single day. Thanks for sharing this.
Thank YOU for sharing, Pol.