I Finally Dreamed Of My Mom
A request to a dying mother and a wish fulfilled.
Cancer took my mom almost 4 short years ago.
I was and am still very close to her.
We spent many hours talking and laughing. I listened to and received her wisdom in long sessions and although I didn’t see them as psychological therapy, I now understand they were.
She was a psychologist with a Ph.D. and many years of experience who used her practice to help souls in pain.
She helped many.
We were together when the doctor re-diagnosed her with cancer despite painful and supposedly successful chemotherapy.
At that moment, it felt like we fell into a long and infinite void. One that not only draws you into a dark and cold container but also one that sucks everything inside you and leaves you breathless.
I felt her sadness at that moment and I understood that her time by my side was ending.
She told us (dad and me) moments after the doctor’s appointment that she would not undergo another chemotherapy.
In her own words, “This is what life has in store for me.”
She accepted her fate with dignity.
We just had to prepare ourselves as a family for the inevitable outcome.
Beatriz did not have a good time in her last days. She was in a hospital bed with palliative treatments and my sister was with her during her last breath.
When kissing her for the last time in our life, I told her almost in secret, to reach me in dreams. She was already unconscious at that moment. I never knew if she heard me, but it was the last thing I said to her.
The point of this writing is that four years after her death, the whole family has dreamed of her at some point. My dad, my sister, my aunts, and even patients.
Everyone except me.
I must confess that it has been a great frustration and sadness not being able to see her again. Only having her in my memories and on my hard drive feels like a way to oblivion.
I hoped that in dreams we could continue all those wise conversations.
All these pep talks I’ve been getting and all that energy that she transmitted to me wasn’t supposed to stop only because of death.
By now, you, the dear reader, should have realized that it hasn’t been like that.
Until yesterday.
4 years ago, when my mom died, and after her Catholic burial, we left the city for a few days. Dad, little sis, and I needed to clear our minds. We went to visit our roots outside the capital and stayed at the family’s country house in Boyacá.
A beautiful place in a small and well-kept town called Tibasosa.
Here, while visiting long-lost landscapes, we prepared ourselves to continue with life.
And so we did.
Today, 4 years after we left town to make peace with our lives, my wife needs a break from hers. Hectic work and life in the capital are taking their toll on her.
So I proposed to go to the house in which I have such good memories.
She Accepted and here we are.
She is on vacation, but not me. A writer´s mind never rests.
I am here writing to you about how, when I returned to this house, I could finally dream of my mother for the first time.
I was lying asleep in my childhood room at my parent’s apartment. I heard footsteps coming to me from their room.
They were barefoot steps, no stockings, no sandals. I knew I was dreaming because those steps were implausible.
They were mums.
Initially, I felt some fear, until I finally got scared.
Someone was hugging me from behind.
In my dream, I was asleep. In my dream, that hug woke me up from that inner sleep.
I felt delicate, thin hands, but I didn’t feel cold, only a mild panic. I knew who those hands were from.
I turned over, and she was there. Lying next to me as if she had never left. Her smile, her fair skin, and those beautiful, big, green eyes were there with me.
I could not believe it. I asked her who she was and what she wanted from me.
She smiled.
I was in a frenzy and started screaming for my dad.
Nobody answered.
At that moment and in space, we were alone.
I got up from the bed and looked at her.
Had to be mum.
How else could I explain the sensation of tranquility that invaded me?
I couldn’t believe it. She was visiting me.
I had so many questions for her.
First one, why.
Why did it take you so long to visit me?
Her answer surprised me.
She said “ I was traveling” I had been all over. Been to New York and some other places. Also, I have been sick she said.
But every day I have written to you, have you checked your email?
I smiled and answered, no mum. I don’t check emails from you. You are dead.
We smiled and sit silently for a while.
A calm and healing silence invaded my dream.
Although this was a pleasant dream, I had to list my grievances.
I told her we had left so many conversations without a conclusion. I complained about needing her advice many times and I could not get it. Most of all, I lamented about missing her voice and her affection.
When I finished moaning, I looked up, and she was gone.
At that moment, I opened my eyes.
I was back in this world
Woke up in the middle of the morning with a tear rolling down my face but also with a delightful sense of calm.
I smiled, looked at my wife sleeping, and my dogs snoring, and then thanked life for a wonderful memory.
Is the morning after. I am on the patio of my family’s country house writing this story and reviewing the emails I have from her in Gmail.
Her wisdom continues to reach me even after her death.
I found a book that she sent me and from which she recommended a chapter. “Life project and personal strategic planning” by Ricardo Vargas Trepaud.
In her email, she tells me, “look at this chapter” Ten reasons to plan our lives.
Even as a dream, she is still the best mother in the world.
I will read the book and the specific chapter; then I will write you my dear friends an article about it.
If my mother thought it was good for me, she sure would think it was good for you too.
Thank you for joining me in this story.
Hi, I’m Nestor Laverde, King of Pragmatism. Thanks for reading me.
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