It’s extremely rare for me to have a dream that’s just a dream. Long gone are those dreams of nonsensical mish-mash with no meaning. Long gone are the dreams of trying to run from something terrifying but your legs won’t move. My dreams are so much more than that. They hold a myriad of clues, layer upon layer of hints of the future (or past) that are guaranteed to happen.
Back in April of this year, my thirty-something neighbour, Clair, suddenly collapsed and was rushed to hospital. Word came that Clair was undergoing several brain operations and the prognosis was not good. Weeks turned into months and still Clair did not come home. It was heart-breaking to watch her husband, Charlie, aimlessly wandering up and down the road, talking to neighbours about the latest update on his wife’s condition. He put his job as a college lecturer on hold so he could spend every day at the hospital but still no good news came.
It was perhaps late July when I had an extremely vivid dream about Clair: The sun was shining brightly; it was a beautiful, warm day and neighbours had gathered outside to welcome Clair home. She was dressed in a pale-blue dress as she elegantly floated towards her front door whilst everyone clapped in celebration of her return. I knew that her speech was affected. She couldn’t say anything; instead she just smiled and waved back at me…and then I woke up.
I knew it meant that eventually Clair would come home though I kept the dream to myself. One warm evening, around six weeks later, Charlie had passed by whilst I was in the front garden. He looked so sad that my heart went out to him. We chatted briefly, Charlie on the verge of tears as he relayed that it was not looking good. It was then that I decided to tell him about my dream; I reassured him that Clair would come home. He was so touched by my words, ‘Thank you so much Jackie, that really does mean a lot and I will tell Clair when I see her tomorrow’, he said tearfully, almost unable to speak for fear of breaking down.
A few more weeks passed and more bad news came. Clair had suffered a stroke and her speech was gone. Neighbours were saying she wasn’t going to make it. I could have kicked myself for even mentioning it to Charlie and wished I’d have kept my mouth shut. Every day I turned the dream over in my mind; Clair in her pale-blue dress, unable to speak, floating down the path. I convinced myself that I’d wrongly interpreted it; perhaps Clair floating meant that she was going to pass after all?
It was last weekend and now early November, when my eldest son had called me to come outside. ‘Clair’s out here mom’, he said with surprise.
‘Clair?’ I replied.
‘Yes, Charlie’s Clair’, he said.
Upon realising who he was talking about I went outside to my son and his friends who’d been stood on the front path…and sure enough Clair was home! Her speech still not returned and sadly in a wheelchair but she waved and gave me the biggest smile that made me want to cry happy tears. Charlie brimming from ear to ear to finally have his wife back gave me so much joy. All I could do was to give him the ‘thumbs up’ sign and say, ‘Good for you, Charlie…good for you!’