My husband (Chuck) and I walked into some sort of office. An older lady that reminded me of Sylvia Brown, raspy voice and all, grabs our hands and tells us that we need healing and to sit down. It wasn’t why we were wherever we were, so Chuck and I were skeptical, but we sat down on a large dark brown leather couch. The lady took our hands again in hers and asked us to close our eyes.
We immediately went into a simultaneous vision quest. At first it was like looking at a kaleidoscope with more blackness than colors. As we continued our journey the colors became more brilliant and we could hear the woman’s voice saying that we were almost there. As we continued, together, we got to the end and we felt wrapped in divine light. We woke with the lady telling us healing was done and we were good, and we all burst into tears. We didn’t want to come back from the journey, but we came back more whole than we began.
Without words, we got into our car and started to go home, without any words. Snow began to fall fast, and the road became icy. Cars spinning out of control and cars abandoned. A roadblock was set up and we were instructed to also leave our vehicle and to get out. We didn’t want to, and Chuck kept trying to figure out how to safely get us around, but we were blocked in. My door opened and there was my mom. Her hair platinum blonde and cut in a pixie. She grabbed my hand and told us we had to follow. She led us to a bus shelter and closed the door. The small space was cozy warm. I was anxious to get home, and although my mom was usually a ball of nerves in life, she was calm and explained to us that it wouldn’t be long. It wouldn’t last forever, we simply had to wait it out. I kept hearing her say, “You both have to be patient. It doesn’t make sense yet, but it’s for safety.”
And I woke up in tears.
Dreams are amazing gifts, whether they are good or bad. This dream had a lot of symbolism, that likely has everything to do with Chuck’s cancer diagnosis and my anxiety of the COVID-19. It was a reminder that we don’t always know everything, nor should we. But healing can happen. Hope is always there. And sometimes we just have to wait it out, be patient, and ride out the storm.
I believe in you.