Some people remember dreams and some don’t. I am in the first category, for not only do I remember dreams, but I can go back into them if I want to do so — even days later. Bad ones? I never want to go back into them, but good ones or strange ones stay with me for a long time.
Months ago, while still feeling upset over a lot of things (we all have times like that), I screamed out my late grandparents’ names, my mom’s name and my dad’s and said in a loud voice: “Help me!” I knew that all four were deceased and yet they loved me as I loved them.
There was no one in my house but me. Eventually I went to sleep and dreamed I was sitting in a booth in a restaurant — well, actually, it was the second booth back from the front window. A man with gray hair was sitting in front of me crying puddles of tears that fell down his face and onto the table. Anguish filled his eyes and face. As my eyes met his, I knew him but he did not know me.
“My wife died two days ago and I’m so miserable,” he said.
“Why are you in here?” I asked.
“I can’t go back to my house. I just can’t!”
I went to his booth and sat down so I was across from him.
“I’m so sorry,” I told him. “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”
“I could use a cup of coffee with a lot of cream, and thanks.”
I motioned to the waitress and ordered his coffee and one for me.
“She’s now in heaven. It’s what people say around here,” I went on to say.
“Yes, I know what that means and I will never be happy ever again,” he replied. “Ever.”
Our coffee was served and as he sipped at his, I stared at his eyes but they did not meet mine — yet.
“But you will be happy again and you will love me — not like a wife, but like a granddaughter.”
“Lady, I don’t know you from Adam and that’s the most absurd thing I ever heard anyone ever say,” he said curtly. “First of all, my wife and I had no children, and second of all, I won’t get married ever again. Right now I should be at my house, but I just can’t handle it.”
I sat there and gazed into eyes that I knew, eyes that I had looked into many times, not as a grown woman, but as a child.
“You will know me in the future, you will love me more than life itself and I want you to know that I will never quit loving you.”
He stared at me as if I were a mad woman, a crazed person and abruptly turned his face away from me.
As I stood up tall and straight, I added, “You will get married again and you will have a blessed happy life, for the woman you will marry will be my grandmother. You know her as your paths have crossed, but the future holds happiness for you. Trust me. Oh, and I will be there with you.”
Pausing, I added, “I am so very sorry for your loss; you must have loved your wife with every fiber in your being.”
And with that I went outside the restaurant door looking straight ahead and walked into the approaching fog.
I did not look back, although I wanted to see his eyes again but chose not to do so. His eyes were memorized by me.
I woke up with a jolt wanting to go back into my dream and tell my future step-grandfather much more, but then I realized that he would come to know very much — much from his second marriage and much about me from my birth to age 11, and that he would be happy. That was a given. In reality, his first wife did die. Had I ever been in a restaurant with him? No, for the entire time I knew him from a young child until age 11 he refused to go to restaurants. He preferred to eat at home. Always.
Of late, I had my step-grandfather on my mind. I still have his billfold that my grandmother gave me. I still have his beautiful fountain pen. And most of all, I still feel the love that he gave me when he held me close to him. Maybe it wasn’t my telling him that things in the future would be better but his telling me just that.
Analyzing dreams can be easy and difficult at the same time, and maybe that was his message to me — not about marriage, for I’ve been through that, and not about grandchildren, for I have three and all are young adults, but maybe a message of hope, for things had been in a quagmire. Three days after my dream, I heard a slight crash in my kitchen. I rushed in and couldn’t imagine what had happened, but as I glanced around, I noticed that a shelf had semi-fallen that was inside a built-in glass-fronted cabinet.
It was the glass front that kept that shelf from falling, and what was on that shelf? The shelf held special things that had belonged to my step-grandfather. All of them. And none of them had been broken. I feel that love knows no boundaries even when a loved one has passed away, and that love can break a lot of barriers.
“God works in mysterious ways” and He most certainly did in this case of my pleading and my dream. Within days, it was as if one miracle after another came to me to help me get out of the bad situation I was in, and I know good and well that my step-grandfather heard me.