As always, I awakened this morning between 3.00 a.m. and 4.00 a.m. but contrary to my usual habit, fell asleep again and had an extraordinary dream. Did not awaken then unti almost 8.00 a.m.
I dreamt of Fleming. As is almost always the case with respect to some one who has died, I was aware in the dream of the fact of his death but a woman who was a very close friend of his in the dream (but no one in the real world as far as I know), contacted me to tell me he was in a place in Florida and that she was going to visit him. She asked if I wished to accompany her. I couldn't believe he still was alive but that I hadn't known and I was consumed with guilt for not visiting him sooner. I agreed, of course, to go with her.
She had a motorbike and I hate motorbikes but I climbed onto the machine behind her and off we went. The place in Florida was a sort of nursing home that resembled to some extent those awful colonoscopy places, with rows of little long cubicles where patients lay dormant. The nurse at the entrance was frisking every one and asking for driver licences and passports for some inexplicable reason. I think this is a reference to the fact that one cannot buy pseudoephedrine (Sudafed) any longer without a valid licence which is absurd and which we discussed again yesterday when we needed some.
In any case, I hung back, not knowing if I should let the woman go through alone but she turned round and encouraged me to enter. She went first though and saw him and came out and said he had some sort of special photograph on the wall. I must try to remember what that was...
She then said she was going to try to get him into another room. I went rhrough and saw two old men at the end of the corridor, one on either side. I did not recognise Fleming at first. I then looked at the walls and saw photographs of him on one of the walls so I looked down and instantly knew him then.
I went to him and found that the upper half of his body was in a glass case, kind of like Snow White in the coffin of glass. He suddenly had tentacles and many hands and he grabbed at me and at first I wanted to flee or at least move away, but instead I allowed it... and he became normal and the glass case disappeared.
I told him I loved him and missed him. We spoke of the Puttikins and some of our shared interests. I was conscious of overwhelming joy that he had not died and a sense of profound kinship. It was as though I had found my family after losing them. I promised to visit frequently.
When I came out, the woman asked if I had paid for another room for him. I was surprised and said the topic had not come up at all. She then said she had asked her father for money and had paid for another room for Fleming. Not certain what this all means???
In essence though, the place was a kind of holding place for people who were on the edge of death. Evidently, the rooms were steps either towards or away from the final death moment and she was moving him gradually away from death by changing rooms.
The photograpshs on his wall showed him in his youth as wall as childhood. I think there were photographs of me as well.
When I awakened, I was conscious of great joy as though Fleming actually had contacted me from beyond the grave. I felt he was helping me to heal physically and indeed, my pain levels were far less than they have been for months. I was actually able to walk a little without that terrible limp where I cannot even place my left foot on the ground.
I know that Fleming firmly believed in life after death. He and Julia visited mediums and spiritualists... never knew precisely WHY in terms of whom they wished to contact unless, for Fleming's part, it was his mother, whom he had loved dearly. The main reason for going, as far as I could make out, was to try to prove life after death existed.
Fleming died two Christmases ago. Since then, there has been no hint of contact or his continuing existence until now. I think of him daily. I miss him quite badly. The dream this morning really, for all its bizarre nature, FELT like contact. I do have very vivid dreams, however, and who knows? I'd love to be able to 'visit' Fleming again though and see if there is a way of moving him to a room that is closer to this life. So very interesting... he would have LOVED this dream and would have discussed it with me with great enthusiasm. God, I miss him! He was as close to an intellectual and spiritual soulmate as one could have.
About Me
- Valkyrie Hawk
- My name is Eugenia-Maria Martino de Conde. Freyashawk is the name under which I write game guides and play many games. I specialise in Northern mythology but my original academic background is in History and British Law. Mine is the view of an exile, a Swan-Maiden rather than a god. Not an exile from heaven (that would be arrogant), but an exile nonetheless. I have lived in La Jolla, Nepal, London, Southampton, Manhattan, Roma, Pennsylvania et alia but spiritually belong to no land. Thus the affiliation with the air, hawk and swan. A Valkyrie chooses heroes from the slain. Walking among the dead is disconcerting. My greatest loves are my daughter and my Puttikins, my Himalayan cat clan. As Freyashawk, I write strategy guides for games. Time to write another novel for a writer can be a Valkyrie, creating warriors from her imagination that inspire people in the eternal battle between good and evil. Therein is the power I desire.
