Introduction

I wonder at times whether dreams are a way the dead can contact the living. As I get deeper into the telling of my dream journeys I find that dreams of the deceased have formed many a dream. Last night, a vivid dream saw me travelling with my Grandma, who has been dead for twenty-one years. This is a journey of a meeting with someone who was special to my formative years. I felt she returned to check how I was and how our family is today.

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Travelling with Dad

This dream, last night, began with my father and I. Together we were in a big car travelling across the outback. We were searching to buy a property. We journeyed a drought ravaged realm. The land was utterly parched and forbidding. We came across a rather charming shack where we were approached by the owner. He was a young man who told us, “I need to move on and start life anew.”

Dad and I inspected the place asking him questions. “Is it insulated?” “Does it get too hot?” and “What about floods?” I noticed, also, that a line had been drawn on the shack’s exterior. It read, “High Water Mark.” Floods had swamped his house, too, in this land of extreme wet and dry. I wasn’t keen on buying. “How much is it?” we asked him.

He replied with an amount in that silent language of the dream. It was overpriced for what it was, an uninsulated shack in the ravaged countryside, far from the nearest town. He added, “It gets bloody hot in summer,” which was a strange way to sell. We declined to purchase.

Grandma Comes Home

Then my Dad left me. “I’ll keep looking,” I said bidding him farewell. Next, I was in the front yard of a large country home, which was well kept, in 19th Century style. Then my grandmother appeared with my sister, out of the blue, in the front garden. The garden was full of lush, verdant growth due to it being on a drip-irrigation system. The thick green against the dry dust was a haven of life. Suddenly, my sister turned on the irrigation system. Water sprayed everywhere cooling everything. Then, for some odd reason, I told her to turn it off.

“Let’s go.” I called them. We all got into the big car and started the journey anew.

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Driving Through Bushfires

My Grandma was just as I remembered her, a stylish strong woman.  In my childhood, she a great role model, for her competence and love. Here she was, exactly as I remember, those twenty-five years past. How relaxed was she as we journeyed this thirsty dreamscape.

Soon we arrived at an airfield. I jumped out of the car. On the airstrip were a young woman and a man. “When is the next flight out?” I asked them. “Not for a few days,” they said. We chatted about some other unknowable things before I got back into the car where Grandma and my sister were waiting. “We will have to drive from here as the next flight out is several days hence.” I told them. Not to worry as Grandma and sis were happy to drive on.

Ahead of us, along the way, bushfires were burning. “The bushfire season has come earlier this year because of climate change,” I added, “But, don’t fret, they have already back-burned (A bushfire prevention method).” The first fire was mild and easy to drive past. To our shock there were many bigger fires raging ahead.

New fires ahead struck fear in me. “We can’t drive through this one!” my sister ejaculated. “Let’s try.” said Grandma. I put the pedal to the floor, speeding up, straight into the raging conflagration.

Conclusion

I knew this vivid dream journey was saying that my long dead Grandma was okay. In fact, I have had many dreams of the dead. Too many, perhaps, to grasp it is, “just my mind working things out.” I know now dreams are, “the portal,” the dead use to bring succour to the living. It’s how the dead talk.

In my experience dreams convey messages from beyond the grave, often resolving issues that they were unable to, when they walked the Earth.

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Dream Journeys

Outworlders Return

Nightmare in Iran

The French Magus

Teaching People to Fly

Meeting Princess Diana