Leslie K.

While asleep, I dreamt of being at a resort in a tropical locale. There were floatable rafts and chairs in the water for visitors, none of which were occupied. Everything around me, from the water to the buildings, appeared clear/muddy and pristine/dilapidated at the same time somehow. The buildings were dark stucco with red roofs. I was not in my body, but floating over this resort. I had the ability to take in the thoughts and emotions of beings who were guests at the resort and those serving the guests. I could not see the guests or servants, I only sensed their presence. The language communicated was not English, though I understood the thoughts being projected. The most notable contrast was in comparing the guests concerns to those of the servants. Guests were wondering how long they should stay by the pool, how many gifts to purchase for those close to them, what they would order in for room service, or how to fix themselves up to look their very best. The servers were worrying about if they would have enough to feed their family and themselves, resentful of the impact on their environment caused by development and overuse of their resources/land by the guests/developers. The servants even had nicknames for the guests, which would roughly translate into ‘selfish ones’, although the implications of this nickname seemed to run much deeper than can be conveyed through words.

All around was music, a unique mix that approached elements of Calypso, Reggae, Brazilian/Latin, and Classical genres. I am not an expert in music, so excuse my novice description. The beat was staccato and had a strange rhythm. Never had I heard this music before. As I began wondering what the time signature was on this music, the answer instantly greeted me: 12/5. I looked around to find the source of music and found nothing except the landscape.

Mom was in the form of a bird, perhaps something akin to a dove. Then the bird disappeared and I saw Mom’s human form sitting in a beach chair. She had died from brain cancer after wasting away to a skeleton prior to death. Yet, here she appeared whole again, wearing a swimsuit she had last worn on a beloved trip to Hawaii. Behind her was a bay, or inlet, and a fence flanking a canal leading to the bay. There was a red sign leading to the bay that was in a foreign language and understood to be a cautionary warning.

We could communicate telepathically, mouths were not necessary. We discussed death, who missed her, who would miss me when my time came to transition. She told me to work hard towards heaven, that my soul still needed to grow towards this end. For whatever reason, I asked if one of my best friends would be okay, and she replied ‘yes, eventually.’ I was puzzled for two years after this dream why I had asked about this friend, until the sudden, untimely death of her brother left her badly shaken for some time.

I had the feeling Mom was at this resort, an unfamiliar place with some familiar elements, to assist with people suffering. It was almost as if she had shared her perceptions with me. I also sensed she was not alone in her quest; that other beings were mentoring her to lend support to the suffering beings. This dream was surreal and altered my outlook on life for the better.