Mom

A Lucid Dream & A Lucid Life

The successful crossing of my Mother, our family’s Heart.

MomThe night before my mother’s passing I had one of the most vivid dreams of my life. Flying over vast desert plains, I dove into trough after trough of mountainous dunes, following their curves, as I dipped my hand lightly into the sand as a surfer would to leave a trail in the water. My fuel for flight was the earth and the magnetism pushing up from it. I was an aerial expert, moving miles in seconds effortlessly, surveying my domain like a hunting eagle. I was the king of the sea of sands.

Something caught my eye; a bubbling spring, inviting me to soak in its soothing hot waters. I descended to explore. Wading through the shallows to explore this inviting pool, it started to expand, bigger and bigger, wider and wider until I could no longer stand in the pool, but began to swim in its current. Gently being pulled downstream, there was only one way to avoid being swept up by the increasing current – swim to the side up an eddy. But it was no use. A pack of elephants were using the same current, and moving rapidly toward me. Surely this could be a precarious situation, as elephants are known to trample humans.

Suddenly there was one elephant by my side, then another, then another. I was surrounded by the herd. A teenage sized elephant came forward and extended its trunk as an offering. Then another trunk, and another. I wasn’t being trampled, but being held up and protected in a swirling current, feeling safe and guarded, no fear. My leathery life raft of friendly trunks gracefully set me down on the ground. I was safe and dry. They made reference to my father, and told me that this was the way he traveled, and that I should do the same. This was the way. I awoke late in the morning feeling refreshed and peaceful, and made my way to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving.

As you may know, my Mom has been ill the past year. I was surprised to find that she had rapidly declined since I saw her last. Her breathing had changed. She wasn’t speaking, although she wasn’t asleep either. “This may be her last day,” I thought, although these things never seem to be certain. Luckily, I felt that I said the things I needed to say, and we said goodbye a couple of times over the past several weeks. We knew this day would come eventually, but nothing can prepare you for the actual moment of crossing.

My brother, Dad and I spent time in and out of the room, together and separately, keeping her comfortable and warm, rotating all day to give her constant care. There have been times over the last month when it seemed she might sleep all day, but then surprise us with a kitchen table sit-down (our family’s talking place), or maybe enjoy an hour of her beloved Lakers in the TV room.

Todd was able to muster up an enjoyable Thanksgiving dinner, and we ate all the while checking on Mom.

Her breathing seemed heavier, and her eyes relaxed. It was bedtime. We remarked several times on how it seemed something had changed. The end may be near.

Not ready to sleep, I took a walk through the neighborhood and down to the beach. I reflected on my beautiful parents and how lucky I am to have witnessed such a beautiful relationship blossom right before my very own eyes. How privileged I am to be a part of it and share in the love they’ve created. Our family is truly blessed.

Checking the time, it was getting late. Had I really been down at the beach for three hours? It felt like I needed to get back. Stepping inside, the lights were all off, except for Mom and Dad’s room. Dad had fallen asleep next to Mom, his hand resting on her. This is the epitome of my selfless father’s character. He has always given everything he has in service for his family. He gives until he passes out, and then gives some more… our hero.

Not wanting to disturb Dad’s precious rest, I sat in the bedside chair, meditating. It was midnight. Exactly one year ago to the day she started to show the symptoms of her illness.

Opening my eyes, I noticed that Mom’s were half open. I whispered, “I love you, Mom. I’m going to miss you so much when you’re gone. But its okay for you to go when you need to,” a message I later found out we had all been giving her.

Her eyes seemed to trace something moving, but there was nothing/no one moving in the room. I brought my head down to look in her eyes. A single tear rest on her cheek, and an ocean of them on mine. I had the overwhelming feeling, as her eyes locked on mine for the last time, that she was conveying her love. I had felt it countless times in this life and didn’t need to hear the words. I knew what was in her heart. Dad woke up and shared in the moment. We made her comfortable with a pillow adjustment, and then she seemed to convey something different without a movement or a sound – just a simple desire from her heart… Go get Todd!

Following the intuition, I invited Todd back into the room with Mom, Dad and I where he had been most of the night, later finding out that he had just finished his own meditation and intense prayer to the Divine to ease his beloved Mother’s transition.

Mom’s energy changed.  Her breathing slowed, and eventually stopped. We knew this was the moment of passing. In an effort to comfort and support her, we held her hands and feet, repeating, “We love you, we’ll miss you, we’ll see you again. Aum, Aum, Aum. Aum, Aum, Aum. We felt her life energy peacefully exit her body moments later.

 

She was successful. Supported by her herd, she moved down the dream-river of life, from one phase to the next.

Pranams, my dearest Mother. You have my deepest love, respect, and admiration. We love you, we’ll miss you, and we will see you again.

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