precognitive dreams
Aug. 28th, 2007 09:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxThat dream I had about Daniel dying?
Mom was holding him, and he was limp and still. He looked... pale, if a cat can be pale. He looked as though there was no blood in his body.
Which is why I was so startled when Mom told me he'd died of severe and sudden complications due to anemia, during a blood transfusion.
I've had only a few others:
My "spiritual grandmother" Lola, when I was thirteen. She'd had lung cancer. I had dreamed of her sitting in a comfortable armchair, hugging me, whispering in a raspy voice, "It'll be all right, sweetie. I'm right here. I'll be with you." Next day, Mom told me that Lola was gone.
My heroin-junkie half-sister Theresa, when I was seventeen. She'd had AIDS. I had dreamed of her riding in a broken empty black car, in the back seat, her face pale, her eyes sunken. Two days later, while Mom and I were driving into town, I found out that Theresa had had fatal pneumonia, complicated by AIDS. She'd gone quickly in a Brooklyn hospital that cared for the homeless. It had shattered and sickened my poor father. Honestly, I barely knew her at all. She'd estranged herself and distanced herself from us since I was little, she had badly hurt us and herself, but she had still been family.
My first boyfriend and best teen friend, David (Damar), when I was twenty. I had simply dreamed he had been hugging me goodbye, to go away on a long trip. The sun had been too bright in my eyes and I'd barely been able to see him walk away. But there had been tears in my eyes, because where he'd be going was far far away. Three days later, Mom called me and told me Damar had died of a brain aneurysm in his college dorm room in Tennessee.
When Adam broke his arm six years ago, I dreamed two nights before of his left arm swallowed up by fog, up to the shoulder. When he called, I learned that a bone his upper left arm had snapped.
I don't have these often, and I thank the gods. They're not the kind of premonitions I want.
This is morbid, isn't it? I'm sorry. I don't think about it much, because I can never do anything about it, and I usually don't recall the dreams until after the facts. But, so you have it.
You're welcome to share. Tell me stories.
Mom was holding him, and he was limp and still. He looked... pale, if a cat can be pale. He looked as though there was no blood in his body.
Which is why I was so startled when Mom told me he'd died of severe and sudden complications due to anemia, during a blood transfusion.
I've had only a few others:
My "spiritual grandmother" Lola, when I was thirteen. She'd had lung cancer. I had dreamed of her sitting in a comfortable armchair, hugging me, whispering in a raspy voice, "It'll be all right, sweetie. I'm right here. I'll be with you." Next day, Mom told me that Lola was gone.
My heroin-junkie half-sister Theresa, when I was seventeen. She'd had AIDS. I had dreamed of her riding in a broken empty black car, in the back seat, her face pale, her eyes sunken. Two days later, while Mom and I were driving into town, I found out that Theresa had had fatal pneumonia, complicated by AIDS. She'd gone quickly in a Brooklyn hospital that cared for the homeless. It had shattered and sickened my poor father. Honestly, I barely knew her at all. She'd estranged herself and distanced herself from us since I was little, she had badly hurt us and herself, but she had still been family.
My first boyfriend and best teen friend, David (Damar), when I was twenty. I had simply dreamed he had been hugging me goodbye, to go away on a long trip. The sun had been too bright in my eyes and I'd barely been able to see him walk away. But there had been tears in my eyes, because where he'd be going was far far away. Three days later, Mom called me and told me Damar had died of a brain aneurysm in his college dorm room in Tennessee.
When Adam broke his arm six years ago, I dreamed two nights before of his left arm swallowed up by fog, up to the shoulder. When he called, I learned that a bone his upper left arm had snapped.
I don't have these often, and I thank the gods. They're not the kind of premonitions I want.
This is morbid, isn't it? I'm sorry. I don't think about it much, because I can never do anything about it, and I usually don't recall the dreams until after the facts. But, so you have it.
You're welcome to share. Tell me stories.
