My eyes opened widely as the light of day and smiling face of my son greeted me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, then re-opened them, getting my bearings. I wasn’t sure where I was. Was I home or still in my dream? This dream had been so vivid and so terrifying, I couldn’t seem to get a grasp on whether or not it had really happened. I felt foggy and unsettled.
“Ma. Ma. Ma.” It was my son talking, while slapping me on the cheek. “Okay,” I thought, “I’m safe. I’m home,” and the touch of that small hand brought me back to what was real.
As I settled in the reality of where I was, I began to process and re-live the intensity of my sleeping mind. My husband was sitting next to me, so I was able to verbalize what I had seen in my dream.
I dreamt that I was about to die.
My husband and I were in the car, driving along a winding road, during a perfect, picturesque fall day in New England. We were laughing as we cascaded along curve after curve, delighted by the warm hues of red, orange, yellow and gold leaves. The sun was shining, warming the car and the clear blue sky added cheer to the day.
We came around a sharp curve and the steering wheel locked up. I turned toward my husband, who was driving, and noticed his knuckles were white and his arms were as straight as arrows as he forcefully clutched the wheel. We raced off the road, tires tearing up the earth as we barreled straight toward an upcoming cliff, with no ability to turn toward safety.
I realized quickly that we were going to crash and die. I also realized there was nothing I could do about it.
I somehow made peace with the fact that death was coming quickly and I had no choice but to accept it. After this wave of acceptance washed over me, I realized that what mattered most to me in that moment was that my husband knew how much I loved him.
Lovingly, I gazed at his face that was full of terror and fear, grabbed him by the arm and squeezed it tightly. He looked at me and I gently said, “I love you more than anything.” Upon hearing those words, his face and body softened. He softly smiled and said those exact words back to me, reaching for my hand. I turned toward the front windshield and saw the cliff rapidly approaching.
I squeezed my husband’s arm tighter and buried my face in it, bracing for death, holding on tightly to love.
Then I woke up.
As I processed the dream, I reflected on how peaceful I felt, even in this dream state, once I accepted that I was going to die. I also reflected on how I asked myself, in the moments before death, what mattered most. I knew that the last thing I wanted to do before I left my human form was to communicate to my beloved how much he was loved.
Afterward, I found myself asking all day, what was most important. Time and time again, it was love.
Days and weeks since this dream, I find myself still asking what’s most important, especially during difficult times of stress, irritation or overwhelment. I always come back to now and ask, “Cyndi, what’s most important?”
“Love” is always my answer.
I inquire within and ask, how can I be more loving, kind and compassionate in this moment?
Can I let go of the illusion of negative thinking and return to love? What is truly important to me? What matters most?
That short, vivid, frightening dream was such a gift. It gave me a chance to die so I could live my life knowing what matters most.
Its almost as if this dream was the encore to the first time I faced death, the evolution of my learning and continuation of my awakening.
As you finish reading this blog, I invite you to look within and ask “What matters most?”
Contemplate as often as you like.