There’s a story in family about my great-great-great grandfather, who was a watchman on a bridge. He was swept off the bridge and died. My Grandmother, Mary, his daughter had a dream that his coffin was floating down the street and he told her he needed someone to come with him. In her dream, her brother, Clinton, offered. He was electrocuted the next day…
(My Aunt Parris was gracious enough to share her version of the story: “My mom, Mary told me that in her dream, her father’s coffin was in the street, and Clinton, who was an electrician working on the street’s electrical wires, opened the coffin and stepped.” Thanks for sharing, Parris)
I can tell you that I have never regretted taking a nap in my life. That is, until today. I wake up around 4:30AM every day so I can prepare for my first class, at 5AM. Every once in a while, I’ll even open up a 4:30 slot, which means I get up at 4. It’s early enough to be really difficult and not want to get out of bed every single morning, but it’s not “ungodly early,” which I consider the 3 ‘o clock hour to be.
Either way, it catches up to me every once in a while and today, I needed a nap. After my last class finished, around 9:30, I went into the bedroom and shut the door. I set my alarm for 11:07 and turned on a new meditation for relaxation. It has been a great way to check in with myself and not have to fight to find that peaceful sleep during the day. I typically wake up feeling recharged and refreshed.
At some point, I have a recollection of being in a dream. An old cheerleading coach was present with a new puppy. I started petting the puppy and right at that point, I woke up (or so I thought). Suddenly, I was in my bed, but my bed was not in my room. It was in a room I know quite well at my paternal Grandmother’s house. At first, I felt safe and serene there. I even felt a playful pull on the covers at the end of the bed. I could feel my skin sliding down the sheets smoothly, the friction creating a sense warmth that ran along my body. Then, the gentle pull accelerated. It got aggressively strong and I found myself yanked off the bed. When I looked back up on the bed, I saw my other (maternal) Grandmother, Mary, who passed many years ago. She looked frail and she acknowledged me, but there was fear in her eyes. She, too, was being pulled off the bed, by something neither of us could see. I was terrified that she was going to be hurt and I tried to scream to my Mom (I had a sense she was outside the door) as loud as I could. Nothing came out. The sound was muted from the depth of my throat. There was so much force in my diaphragm, trying to push that sound up and out, that it hurt. I couldn’t even get my mouth to open. I tried to kick my legs and I couldn’t move them an inch. There was no struggle because I stood no chance against whatever force was holding me. Nobody could hear me. Nobody would hear me.
Just as Mary was violently pulled of the bed, I awoke to a new level consciousness. I was in my room now. I was in my bed. I could hear myself futilely sucking in air to scream, I felt my thighs aching from trying to kick. I was fully awakened by the 11AM church bells. As I lay there, terrified about what I had just experienced, the grip that was on me slowly began to loosen. It took, at least five full minutes for me to move. I was prompted by an odd-sounding alert on my phone. It was one of those “Memory” slideshows that I had heard about.
My Dad often talks about his fondness for these unexpected, but pleasant clips compliments of your iphone. I was familiar with them because I had seen his. I had never actually had one of my own pop up…until that moment. That’s what the alert was. I had a “Memory” from Christmas Day 2014. Literally, not 1 before this. I watched the video knowing I would see something pertaining to my dream. I was not wrong.
In all the photos I have on my phone, Christmas is the one time of year that I have photos from my Grandmother’s house and, sure enough, there they were. I went to call my Dad, just to clear my head and get some other thoughts flowing and my phone automatically called my Grandmother. There are not words for how I feel about all this, but it all happened and I wanted to write it down.
To say that I’m in a bit of a funk is an understatement. It has made me think about some other odd things that have happened to me over the years. One morning, in my early 20’s, I woke up with a phone number in my head; 972.241.5230. I couldn’t shake the number. Like, it followed me. It whispered to me and I couldn’t think of who it belonged to. I just knew it was important and I needed to find out. I called the number and never heard a familiar voice. Finally, I asked my Mom, “Why is 972.241.5230 stuck in my head?”. She was silent for a moment and asked me to repeat myself.
“Mom, what is 972.241.5230? I cannot stop thinking about it.”
I was shocked when she said, “’Cote’ (that’s what she calls me sometimes), that was your Grandmother’s phone number. Where did you see that?”
I told her that I hadn’t seen it at all. I just woke up with it. My Grandmother passed when I was 15 years old. I adored her. My Grandfather passed when I was much younger, 3rd or 4th grade and I adored him just as much. They were very special to me, but I didn’t know their phone number. Grandparents called parents and when I wanted to talk to my Grandparents, my Mom or Dad called them for me.
Phones seem to be a common theme for me. There was one point, several years ago, when I would constantly have missed calls from the future. In fact, it was always March 23rd of a future year. It always struck me as odd because my Grandpa’s birthday was March 23rd, but looking back, it’s even more strange because my son’s birthday is March 23rd.
That’s all I got. I’m not even going to try to do this gracefully…THE END.