It’s difficult to explain, but I can’t bluntly say that I believe in the paranormal. But how is it so that I still feel fear from my own imagination? Maybe I won’t admit that perhaps it’s because it’s not.
I’ve never seen ghosts. I have tried several times, doing that Bloody Mary thing, sitting in the middle of a dark room alone at night, probably acting silly trying to contact my uncle who had passed on.
But what may be paranormal (or not at all) is that every time a relative passes on, I would always dream about them.
In this story I will share, it was about my grandmother:
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I was still young, maybe around 7 or 8 years old? I recall being the funeral home, dimmed with yellow bulbs. It was a clean place, not at all creepy but not that high class either.
Anyway, I don’t remember how I learned of her death. We didn’t grow up with her, we weren’t really close. We just visit her every now and then, we don’t live with each other.
On one of the last nights of her wake, I was feeling very sleepy. I decided to lie down on one of the hard, plastic benches. There were rows of them and that night, there didn’t really seem to be a lot of people so I was free to occupy one bench.
I was drowsing off when my younger cousins’ shuffles while running around the room disturbed my peace. I hissed at them, sitting up slightly, and scolded them that this was a funeral and that they shouldn’t be running and playing about. They immediately stopped and I resumed to my rest, until finally being able to sleep.
That was when my dream occurred.
I was still in the funeral home, but it was bright as it was day time. There were no other visitors or people around except for me and one of my older cousins. Maybe he was about 20 years old that time, both in my waking life and in the dream.
We were both standing before my grandmother’s coffin. I don’t know how it could happen as I was a short girl and probably could not be taller than the lying coffin but I could see her inside. She was about 80 years old, with short, curly hair and thin lips.
"She looks like she’s only sleeping," my cousin told me. "Even her hands, see her hands." He fists were closed but not too tightly. "She’s like than when she’s sleeping."
I didn’t say anything, just continued to look at her…
Then her head turned. It was quick.
I quickly glanced up at my cousin. “Her head moved!”
He looked at me, no worries or anything in his expression. “No, that’s just your imagination.”
I glanced back at her and she was lying down as before, the back of her head back against the soft cushion. I saw it turn right.
And I saw it turn right again! I gasped, she just looked like she’s turning her head but everything else of her did not move. Her eyes did not open either.
I was confused.
Then I woke up.
I felt sick. I sat up and my head felt heavy and it was aching. I looked around and it seemed that other people had arrived. It was a lot noisier now.
I was about to look around some more when I realized…
I couldn’t turn my head.
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I had a stiff neck, attempting to look at my right pained me and actually were unsuccessful; hence, just attempts. But turning my head to the left had no problem.
I had a fever that night. After being able to stand up, I remember that my mom had learned I was not feeling well. Next thing that happened was that I was throwing up outside the funeral home. I was sent home and I was unable to attend my grandmother’s burial because I was too sick.
People would often say that dreams like this, dreaming of the dead when they have yet to be buried meant that they want to take you with them. I guess it’s not true, but the experience and dream was so coincidental…It didn’t feel normal anymore.
Have you guys had any dreams about the dead that felt continued when you woke up?
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Credits to: http://orione-celephyr.tumblr.com/
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