More than a dream…

This morning, I woke up to the peaceful sounds of my home and my town.  My husband and I live on a busy street in a small town… so the wonderful sounds of the town were drifting into my open bedroom window.  You know, the early morning bakery deliveries.  The swish of the morning paper as it landed on my front step.  The milk man.

My husband, Barry, was already up, and I could hear him downstairs as he made the morning coffee.  Nobody makes coffee like Barry.  That’s a fact.  I hopped out of bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom.   On the way, a little glimmer of silver caught my eye as I passed the door to our linen closet.  It was the circular stainless steel belt holder with the hanger… the one I had found at my mother-in-law’s apartment when Barry and I were sorting through her clothing.  Barry remembered this belt holder from his childhood.  I had removed each of her belts from it, one by one, and had fallen in love with the simplicity of its design.  I had brought it home… and hung it on the linen closet door until I had the time to sort through my own belts and use this special gadget.

This morning, the belt holder filled me with emotion.  I stared at it for a moment, and then I began to sob.  I didn’t sob just for the belt holder that belonged to my mother-in-law… I sobbed for the dream I had of her sometime last night or early this morning.  The belt holder was the catalyst for remembering my dream.

This is my dream…

I was walking through a department store with Barry.  It may have been Target.  The aisles were neat and white.  As we reached to end of one aisle, I looked to the left.  There, right before my eyes, was my mother-in-law.  She was beautiful.  She had on a fancy tan-colored cardigan sweater with a beige silk blouse underneath.  Around her neck was one of her large, gold necklaces.  Her hair was “done,” as she would have said.  She had on perfect make-up and her signature deep rose lipstick.   She looked like she did 15 or 20 years ago.  Behind her to her left was a man who was obviously with her, but he was someone who I did not recognize.  He was very, very tall… and balding.  The hair he did have was dark.  He looked serious, but not stern.  He looked at me for a brief moment and then stepped back a step or two.

I looked right into Mom’s eyes and began to sob.  She hugged me tightly and whispered, “It’s OK.  Everything is OK.”

I hugged her so tightly, but I also wanted to see her eyes.  I looked into her eyes.  I did not see sadness.  I saw her. “I miss you so much.  I love you.” I sobbed.   I kept saying, “I miss you so much.”

She smiled.  She said, “I know you do, darlin’.  I know you do.  Everything is OK.  Everything is going to be OK.”  And she hugged me again.

I looked around for Barry.  He wasn’t there.  It was just Mom, me and the man a little distance away.

I remember thinking… this guy must be her supervisor in heaven.  All the while, he just stood a respectful distance away.

We hugged for what seemed an eternity.  I could hear her.  I could smell her.  I could see her.


It was her belt holder this morning that brought the dream back like it was happening again.  I saw it.  I felt it.  I heard it.  I saw the man.  I felt myself hugging Mom.  And I began sobbing again.

My husband came around the corner at that very moment.  He hugged me so tightly and I told him of my dream.  I told him that his Mom came to me.  I told him of the man who stood off to the side.  I told him that I think the man came with her so she would not be tempted to stay for too long.  I could not stop sobbing.  It was not a sad sob… it was a “I miss her so much” sob that seems like it will never stop.  And he began to sob.  We stood there wrapped in each others’ arms…  until I realized that Mom really was there.  It was not a dream at all.  And she did come to tell me that everything is OK.  Different.  But she is OK.  And we will be too.

I can’t even begin to explain how often I see my mother-in-law.  How often I talk to her.  How often I feel her near me.  I ask her advice.  I ask her for favors… oh, my… I will write about the things she has taken care of from heaven!

I am so very grateful for my dream… or my reality.  I would love it if anyone else can share their most vivid “dreams” or visits from loved ones.  I know that angels walk with us.  I would love to hear about yours.

More than a dream… was last modified: February 9th, 2010 by Sharon Couto
SHOWHIDE Comments (4)
  1. Oh, I’ve definitely had dreams like this- with loved ones that have passed, pets, and even people that have drifted away in my life and I haven’t seen in so long. I always feel like there is a soul-tie in my dream, as if it’s really a way to reach each other and bring comfort, the only way they can really speak to us now that they are gone.


  2. I don’t even have words, Sharon. You know that I’ve had a week where I’ve so missed my Pa Pete and I’ve just looked for him in everything. I see him in so many things but I haven’t dreamt (is that even a word?) of him in so long. I really long to. I feel like it would be the greatest connection if I could. I’m so glad you got to see her again and that you were comforted by her!

  3. Sharon,
    I cried when I read your post today. Not only because it was so meaningful, but because I have had the same experience. My grandmother died when I was 16. Ever since, I have periodically had dreams of her. We are always sitting in her kitchen. She is always wearing the same clothes, and she serves me the exact same lunch. It is more than a dream though, because I can SMELL her, HEAR her voice, and BE with her, just like you were with Dorothy. We talk of things going on in my life, she gives advice, and she asks about my Dad, her son.

    I treasure these moments with her, because I believe it is more than just a dream.

    I hope you will get another “visit” soon!

  4. Shortly after my Dad died unexpectedly at age 62, I had a dream that I was walking up the driveway to the side door of our house. You remember it. To the first floor tenement where we lived. Somehow, the outside walls to the dining room were transparent. Dad was hugging Mom and he whispered in her ear, but I could hear it in my dream, “Tell Connie I’m all right.”

    My Mom died on the Monday after Thanksgiving in 2006. The following March, Tony and I were on vacation in Kissimee, Fl. One night I awoke with a start. Mom was THERE. It was not a dream. She was there.

    Such great comfort.
    I understand.

More than a dream… was last modified: February 9th, 2010 by Sharon Couto