Glancing around the room, the porcelain statue is next to her bed. It has been there ever since I can remember, but I feel something is...off. What is it? Something is not right here. This is her room, but it looks different somehow. I'm not afraid, but it's if I'm looking at her room through a reflection in a mirror. Now that's odd. Oh, I'm dreaming. Is it odd that I actually know I'm dreaming? Well, I might as well enjoy it.
I glance at my grandmother's nightstand. Strange. The picture of my grandfather who passed away in 1980 is not there. It's always there. I wonder why it's not there. Turning, I take another look at the dresser behind me. The picture should be on the nightstand, but it's behind me on the dresser. This is really strange.
Looking at the picture of my grandfather, I notice my grandmother's rosary is not draped over it. Again, this is weird. The rosary has been there ever since he passed away. Well, it is a dream. Who knows? I'll just go with it.
I look at the picture again and sigh. "Oh, Pap. I really miss you." Touching the picture, I immediately draw my hand back. The picture is becoming...distorted somehow.
My grandfather, who passed away in 1980 from cancer and who weighed 90 pounds at the time of his death, was standing in front of me just as I remember him--standing to his full height of over six feet and clearly weighing over 200 pounds.
Suddenly, his cologne is overwhelming my senses. How in the world can I smell in a dream? It doesn't matter. He is here.
I throw myself into his arms. "Oh, Pap. I miss you so much."
Warm arms embrace me tenderly. "Vicki, I do not have much time." He pulls back and holds me at arm's length. "I need you to do something for me."
"I need you to tell your dad not to let him get the glass necklace. I don't want him to have it?"
"Tell your dad," he instructs.
I laugh. Having so many ridiculous dreams in the past, I realize my dad is going to think I am absolutely nuts and this dream is making no sense. "Pap, you need to tell me more. There is no way he is going to understand what you are saying. What glass necklace and who do you not want to have it?"
He squeezes my arms gently. "Vicki, I do not have much time. I cannot tell you. You just have to tell your dad what I told you. When the time comes, he will know. I'm out of time. I have to go."
"Wait!" I call out. I pull him close for one last bear hug. "Oh, God! I love you, Pap!"
"I love you," he whispers.
A black dog appears at his side. Sort of looks like a Rottweiler, but not. It does not have any features such as mystical red eyes or anything. It looks like a normal dog--one I've never seen before, but a normal dog. It barks once. I knew it would not hurt me, but knew we were out of time. I did not move, but the black dog somehow places his body in between me and my grandfather. Again, I did not move, but I am pushed back through my grandmother's bedroom door and the door slams shut in my face.
Did you ever see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets? When Harry opens Tom Riddle's journal and gets hurled back in time, he approaches Hagrid who's having a conversation with the spider. When that is all Harry is allowed to see, he's pummeled out of the room and the door slams shut. It was exactly like that!
I awaken from the dream and the scent of his cologne is still in the air...
I know you're all asking the question. Did I tell my dad? Of course I did! My dad had no clue what I was talking about. After thinking upon this for several years, I concluded the glass necklace was my grandmother's rosary that she was buried with. I still have my grandfather's rosary though. It must have been only a dream...
You actually think I'm done? Not by a long shot...This story continues.
18 years ago...
As you know from my prior posts, my DH watches a lot of Discovery, etc. He's watching one of those channels and it's a documentary on American Indian Mythology. I'm yawning as I normally do, but something catches my ear. Black dog, dream. It goes to commercial. How typical is that?
One of the Native American Indian tribes (I continually kick myself to this day because I did not write it down) believes a mystical black dog is the gatekeeper to the dream realm. It is responsible for keeping "balance." They show the dog. I scream. It's THE dog! After several OMG'ds and my future DH thinking I've lost it, I tell him the dream as clear as I am telling it to you. Remember, he's my FUTURE DH. He just gives the polite nod and doesn't commit to anything.
It gets spookier...
10 years ago...
Deep in my heart, I knew, my grandfather would never talk to me in another dream. Don't ask me how, but I knew if I ever had another dream about him, he would never talk to me.
Oh, no. I recognize this feeling again and know I'm dreaming. I see my grandmother in a crowd and I don't recognize anyone around her. Oh, God. There is my grandfather. What is he doing? He's just standing there...watching. Watching what? I do not want to wait to find out.
My chest is heaving. I'm running towards my grandmother. I have to reach her. Just as I reach her, she falls backwards. She's on the ground now and my grandfather is standing beside her with his hands folded in front of him. Oh, God. I don't see any blood, but she is so...lifeless.
I look up and scream at my grandfather. "Why are you just standing there? Do something!"
He does not speak. I didn't expect him to. He offers me a comforting smile. What is that around his neck? Is he wearing a gold necklace? What is that? There is some kind of time piece attached to it resting on his chest. I have to see it. He's going to turn away. This is important. Move! I struggle to see the time piece. There! I got it! 3:20. I'm awake.
What the hell was that?
Several weeks later...
My grandmother is over at my house for a visit. Time for a chat. Without going into too much detail i.e. she's lifeless on the ground, I tell her about my dreams. She sits back and listens, quietly taking it all in. Oh, God. I think I know that look. My grandmother wants to have me committed. After I unburden myself, I sit back and take a deep breath.
She sits forward and smiles. "Your grandfather used to dream all of the time, but he always would dream numbers. I don't know why."
"That's interesting, but knowing I had to look at this time piece around his neck was really bizarre. It was if I had to see it before the dream would end. 3:20 means nothing to me anyway."
"But it means something to me," my grandmother speaks.
I'm sure I paled. "What?" I ask.
"3:20 is the time your grandfather died. There is no way you could have known that."
Have you ever had a dream that was so intense you would swear it was real?