A Dream Message Revealed that the Soul Survives Death

It was five in the morning when my husband telephoned with the news of my mother’s death. I said little to him in reply; there was little to say. But as I made my way back to bed, I addressed my Mother. “Mom, I would have thought that after all you and I have been through, you would have come to tell me yourself. I did not think I would have to receive this information from Bill.” I was instantly asleep and instantly in a dream state witnessing my Mother and Father walking side by side. They were dressed for travel: my Mother wearing a white blouse and blue skirt, an outfit she herself had made years before. She was carrying a small cloth satchel, one she had used frequently when she and my Father had traveled during their younger years. My Father wore a gray hat - one I remembered well. It was the same one I image him wearing whenever I recall our times together. My parents were entering a large ornate, gothic-style building from the East (symbolic of a new beginning). I immediately recognized it as a train station. They were the only ones in the station - the lone travelers on this journey. 1

I was aware of being “placed,” by a guiding presence, behind a large pillar. Even in the dream state, I knew that this dream was not about me but that I was being allowed to witness privileged information. As my parents proceeded through this gigantic room, they passed a ticket wicket. My Mother glanced at my Dad. He shook his head indicating they did not require tickets. They moved toward the far end of the building, stopping directly in front of two weigh scales. My Mother again turned to my Father for direction. This time he shrugged his shoulders indicating it was up to her. Setting her satchel on the tile floor, she steeped onto one of the scales. After glancing at the gage registering her weight, she turned to inquire of my Father. He shook his head indicating “no.” Mother nodded in understanding. Then picking up her satchel, she and my Father turned and entered a tunnel-like opening in the North end of the building. (North is symbolic of entering a higher level cycle). These travelers were heading for a train waiting there – a train to take them on the next phase of the journey.

The instant I could no longer see them, the dream ended and I was fully awake. I knew I had been granted a vision, one containing a priceless gift. Yet, I pondered the meaning of the weigh-scales. For days I searched dream dictionaries determined to uncover the symbolism of the scales. Finally, in my oldest book on symbols and their meanings, I located the piece that fit the puzzle perfectly. This source indicated that scales symbolize “weight and weightlessness.” My Mother had been in and out of her body so frequently during her preparation for transition, getting on the scale and finding herself “weightless” affirmed for her that she would not be returning to her physical-form. My Father’s nod indicated that she was now fully in spirit-form, that she would not be returning to her physical body, and that she and he could now move forward on the next part of the journey.

This vision of my Mother’s spirit being accompanied into the after-life by my Father, has led me to know that death is not as many believe it to be. We are not alone in the crossing over. Our loved ones are there to guide and support us as we transition. Most importantly, I now know - not just believe, but know, and without the slightest doubt - that the human soul continues beyond death.

Shortly after my Mother’s death, I visited St. Mary’s Church, in Rydal, England - a little stone structure William Wordsworth had been instrumental in building. These words are inscribed on one of the stones that make up a small stone circle in the courtyard: “What is it to cease to breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides that it may rise and expand and seek god unencumbered.” A tingle raced up my spine as the words entered my consciousness - the kind of tingle you get when you have just heard a major truth. My Mother’s soul had left behind the restless tides so it could rise and expand and seek God unencumbered. Of this I was sure.

References

1). Simington, J. (2003). Journey to the sacred: Mending a fractured soul. Edmonton, AB. Taking Flight Books.