Message from beyond

Now, I'm not a religious person by any means. Much to my grandmother's dismay, I was never baptized, never raised with the fear of "god" to strike me down at any moment, never "belonged" to any church. As an adult, I don't believe in organized religion AT ALL. To me, the bible is just another story book, regardless of how influential it is in our history. I'm the one that needs concrete evidence that such-and-such happened. But I do believe there is a "higher being" out there, just it's not an old man dipping his hands in the pot of evolution.

So, with that said, I don't believe in "heaven" or "hell" as physical places someone's soul goes to. What does happen to one after death? I don't know, just like no one else knows. Do we even have a soul? Do we get buried and become worm food? Do we have another existence on another plane that we wander? No one knows. Yes, I believe in ghosts. Why? I've witnessed them. I can count 3 instances of ghostly activity in my life, and all 3 of those were also witnessed by someone else. So, it's not just my perception.

The other thing I believe in, which goes along with ghosts, although, to me, ghosts are more of a physical apparition. But, I believe in spirits of the ethereal world. Those that visit us in our dreams, in our minds. I believe there is a reason we are contacted by them, whether it be an urgent matter, or just a simple reassurance.

I don't know what qualifications someone has to have to be blessed with these visits. Or if some people just brush them off as a "dream" and pay no attention to the meaning. Dreams have meanings. It's just how we use them that matters.

So, my dream last night, I got a surprising, unexpected visit. I was dreaming some event was happening, I was in a hotel room with my parents and Bill. There was no ceiling, or the ceiling was glass, the daylight was pouring in. There was a patio of sorts outside a sunroom, lots of plants. Almost like a greenhouse. I didn't think much of it, we were all discussing arrangements of some sort. All of a sudden, the door opened, and my grandfather walked in, carrying a small pot with a seedling in it. He put an arm around me and said, as he always did, "How's my gal?" I could smell him, he always had this earthy smell, because he was a horticulturist, and soil was a huge part of his life.

My grandfather passed away in August of 2003 of cancer. A week after my grandparent's 60th anniversary. There was no funeral, just a memorial service at their church. Bill and I were to leave that same day for a week vacation for our 5th anniversary. Everyone urged us to go, he wouldn't want us to change our plans. So, we did. A month later, we found out I was pregnant. Totally unplanned, totally unexpected, as I had been on birth control.

I had been close to my grandpa. I spent lots of summers with them growing up. I'd follow Grandpa around, helping him in his greenhouse, in his gardens. He grew plants year round. I remember snowy days, sitting in the warm greenhouse, the smell of the wood stove drying chestnuts and soil and plants. Feeling the soil, soft and warm on my hands. Learning how to split a flat of seedlings to transplant them into single pots. Being taught how to take a cutting of a plant and create a new plant.

It's now nearing the end of April. Time to start gardening. And I've been debating if I should start the plants inside now, so that by the end of May, they will be ready for the garden. I think Grandpa gave me my answer. This isn't the first time he's visited me. Last year he did the same. And the year before. Always walked into my dream with some sort of gardening message.