Lovely Latina
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 9, 2000
- Posts
- 674
That was very interesting, Merlin.
Hearing you speak of your father, I am reminded now of a dream that was by far the most hauntingly eerie, and yet beautifully moving dream experience I have ever had.
My paternal grandmother died when I was a junior in high school. For all of my 17 years of life up til then, she had constantly "badgered" me to learn and develop my spanish-speaking skills. Spanish was never spoken in our house when I was growing up, but I had taken it for six years in school, and understood quite alot, though my verb conjugation skills and accent left alot to be desired. I was quite embarrassed by my "gringo-sounding" spanish, that I avoided speaking it anywhere but in the classroom. Whenever we went to visit her, she, of course, would only speak in spanish to me. Annoyed the hell outta me! I would answer in english, and she'd give me that "stern, authoritative grandmother stare" that made all us grandkids cringe.
About a month after she passed, I was having a dream about being on vacation in Florida with my family. My parents went downstairs to the lobby, leaving me alone in our hotel room. At that moment, it was as if someone had pressed the "pause button" on my dream--the television, the sounds of people talking outside, EVERYTHING had come to a sudden halt. Then she appeared. My grandmother stood smiling before me, dressed in a blue dress and yellow apron. She held out her arms and I went to her. But what was strange was that I didn't feel her arms...not in a physical sense anyway. What I felt was this most incredible "warmth" enveloping me...an overwhelming entity that I had never experienced before, but could only describe as pure, intense love.
She then looked straight into my eyes and asked me to speak in spanish to her, and it was as if a "tongue of fire" had descended upon me (you know...like in the bible), and I began rambling on and on (en espanol)...telling her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how very sorry I was for never truly appreciating her and what she had wanted for me. At the end of our conversation, her gentle eyes smiled into mine and she left with me these words:
Be proud of who you are and be proud of your heritage. Be a good and loving daughter always to your parents. I will always be with you...right here (she pointed to my heart). I love you.
Then *poof*...she was gone. My dream continued exactly from where it had been paused.
The next morning, I woke up believing that the dream I had had was merely a result of my subconscious missing her and longing to remember her. It didn't even occur to me that it could be anything more than that.
At breakfast that morning, I mentioned the dream in passing (the syrup, I think it was), when I noticed my mother's eyes light up. She, too, had had a dream that night similar to mine. I asked her what my grandmother was wearing in her dream, and she described the exact same vision I had seen in mine. The only difference between our dreams was that in hers, my grandmother was crying...asking my mother to help her two children (my father and my aunt) as they struggle with their illnesses (alcoholism). She then hugged my mother and told her she loved her.
It was at that moment that the impact of what I had experienced hit me...hit me so damn hard. I looked over at my usually emotion-less father and noticed a slight welling of tears in his eyes. Emotion overtook me, and I spent the next couple of hours alone in my room...crying...laughing...and crying some more from the odd, but bittersweet mixture of both sadness and intense joy. I felt truly blessed.
Could it have been a simple coincidence that my mother and I both had the same dream on the same night? Sure. But will I ever or do I ever want to believe that?
Never.
http://geocities.com/r337m0nk3y/net/smile.gif
Hearing you speak of your father, I am reminded now of a dream that was by far the most hauntingly eerie, and yet beautifully moving dream experience I have ever had.
My paternal grandmother died when I was a junior in high school. For all of my 17 years of life up til then, she had constantly "badgered" me to learn and develop my spanish-speaking skills. Spanish was never spoken in our house when I was growing up, but I had taken it for six years in school, and understood quite alot, though my verb conjugation skills and accent left alot to be desired. I was quite embarrassed by my "gringo-sounding" spanish, that I avoided speaking it anywhere but in the classroom. Whenever we went to visit her, she, of course, would only speak in spanish to me. Annoyed the hell outta me! I would answer in english, and she'd give me that "stern, authoritative grandmother stare" that made all us grandkids cringe.
About a month after she passed, I was having a dream about being on vacation in Florida with my family. My parents went downstairs to the lobby, leaving me alone in our hotel room. At that moment, it was as if someone had pressed the "pause button" on my dream--the television, the sounds of people talking outside, EVERYTHING had come to a sudden halt. Then she appeared. My grandmother stood smiling before me, dressed in a blue dress and yellow apron. She held out her arms and I went to her. But what was strange was that I didn't feel her arms...not in a physical sense anyway. What I felt was this most incredible "warmth" enveloping me...an overwhelming entity that I had never experienced before, but could only describe as pure, intense love.
She then looked straight into my eyes and asked me to speak in spanish to her, and it was as if a "tongue of fire" had descended upon me (you know...like in the bible), and I began rambling on and on (en espanol)...telling her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how very sorry I was for never truly appreciating her and what she had wanted for me. At the end of our conversation, her gentle eyes smiled into mine and she left with me these words:
Be proud of who you are and be proud of your heritage. Be a good and loving daughter always to your parents. I will always be with you...right here (she pointed to my heart). I love you.
Then *poof*...she was gone. My dream continued exactly from where it had been paused.
The next morning, I woke up believing that the dream I had had was merely a result of my subconscious missing her and longing to remember her. It didn't even occur to me that it could be anything more than that.
At breakfast that morning, I mentioned the dream in passing (the syrup, I think it was), when I noticed my mother's eyes light up. She, too, had had a dream that night similar to mine. I asked her what my grandmother was wearing in her dream, and she described the exact same vision I had seen in mine. The only difference between our dreams was that in hers, my grandmother was crying...asking my mother to help her two children (my father and my aunt) as they struggle with their illnesses (alcoholism). She then hugged my mother and told her she loved her.
It was at that moment that the impact of what I had experienced hit me...hit me so damn hard. I looked over at my usually emotion-less father and noticed a slight welling of tears in his eyes. Emotion overtook me, and I spent the next couple of hours alone in my room...crying...laughing...and crying some more from the odd, but bittersweet mixture of both sadness and intense joy. I felt truly blessed.
Could it have been a simple coincidence that my mother and I both had the same dream on the same night? Sure. But will I ever or do I ever want to believe that?
Never.
http://geocities.com/r337m0nk3y/net/smile.gif
