Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. These two words went through my mind as I parked my jeep at Mercers Pier and began walking north on the beach. Having always been a believer in the power and significance of dreams in our lives, their symbolic interpretations, and their ability to reveal clear and sometimes invaluable information to the dreamer, I decided to find out what meaning my friend Ralph's dream held for me that seventh day after the unexpected death of my brother.
The dream had been relayed to me by Ralph the previous day and I knew as I quietly listened to him tell me about the pages of the calendar that he saw in his dream which all displayed the words seven days and about a communication I was to receive from my brother that I would spend the following afternoon in search of whatever message I was to receive that seventh day. But more importantly, I knew that I was NOW inwardly equipped for anything that would happen. I too had a dream that same night and the dreams were remarkably similar in content -- my brother wanted to contact me, he had something important he needed to share.
I walked on the beach rethinking the previous 21 day period. It had begun 11 days before Thanksgiving when I suddenly had an urge to call my brother who was a student at West Virginia University. When the phone was answered, I was unexpectedly greeted by the sound of my mother's voice. I momentarily thought I had mistakenly called her but she soon dispelled that thought as she explained that she had driven to Morgantown the day before to take my brother to the hospital where he had been admitted with a life threatening case of pneumonia.
At the time, I was totally unprepared for the dramatic and extraordinary events that would unfold over the next 21 days and unbeknownst to me at the time, my life would be forever changed by the series of incredible circumstances that I would witness. My personal spiritual path was changing direction again, without warning, as I was about to take another leap in not only my individual growth but in my spiritual thinking as well. I would see and learn of a few more of the mysteries of the universe that I had believed existed but had never before experienced. But, these lessons would not come free, in fact my brother would have to pay the ultimate price. He would have to sacrifice his life for me to be momentarily blessed with what I thought then would be merely a glimpse of the phenomenal wonders and magic of life, physical death, life after death, and the transition that takes place during this period.
Within a few days of the first conversation with my mother, of which there would be many, Eddie's physical condition began to quickly deteriorate. The test results would soon inform us of what I had already learned a few nights before in yet another dream. Eddie was suffering from an AIDS related pneumonia; he had contracted Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome and was only expected to live a few more days.
I was scheduled to leave the day before Thanksgiving to drive to West Virginia to see my brother for what I knew would inevitably be the last time, and I was quite anxious for this final visit with him to begin. I had stopped in a local store for a few things I would need on the trip when I sensed someone standing behind me, I quickly turned my head but did not see anyone standing there and continued what I was doing when I had an insuppressible urge to look again. I turned again, only this time someone was there.
Standing directly behind me was my father, who had passed on a few years before. Startled I said his name aloud and asked him what he was doing there, but he didn't answer my question -- he only asked me if I was okay. I answered that I was fine but Eddie was not, he was very sick. Dad said he knew this and had returned for him. The emotions flooded through me as I heard his words as they somehow drifted into my mind, but I had already known when I saw him standing there that this was why he had returned. Slowly he faded away as I rushed out of the store and hurried home to call the hospital for an update on my brother's condition, afraid the worst had already happened. But, although he was still alive, he was not improving. His inner flame was growing dim as his final days unfolded.
Within two days I arrived at the hospital to find my brother now on a respirator. He looked so old, so worn, and so tired, as he lay there those last thirty-six hours preparing for the transition that was taking place. Wanting to spend some time alone with him, I offered to relieve my mother for an hour, from her constant vigil with Eddie, which she willingly agreed to. I stayed with him in the hospital room giving him Reiki and Igili (pronounced eee-gee-lee) -- anything I could to comfort him and myself for that matter. I thought of his life and impending physical death and tried to remember a few of the memorable events that had occurred in the thirty-three years we had shared as brother and sister.
After a brief meditation to relax and center myself, I attempted to see his aura. I could not sense any auric field around the lower part of his body, which did not make sense to me until later in the day. Around his head and upper body his aura was a light gray color, somewhat cloudy in appearance, and there was a funnel like light emitting from the top of his head. As I became more relaxed, which was becoming extremely difficult by now as I struggled with my own overwhelming emotions, I could just barely see him as he drifted in and out of his body. I watched in awe of what I knew was possible from first hand knowledge of this phenomenon, but was soon interrupted by the nurse entering his room. I then concluded what was to be my only private visit with Eddie and went to meet my mother, sister, and youngest brother, and together we spent the rest of the day with him.
The next morning would come quickly for us. This was to be the final day of Eddie's physical life. We arrived early at the hospital where my mother still remained, her strength obviously fading from the ordeal she had lived for two weeks. In accordance with Eddie's wishes, the respirator would be removed today, allowing him the opportunity to transition and take him away from the suffering he was enduring. We spent the day with him as we awaited the moment he would take his final breath.
During the final hour, I sat again for a moment in the chair in the corner of the room watching him die. I could sense my father's energy in the room along with my grandmother's, but could not see them and would not until the final moments of his life. I was again looking for changes in Eddie's auric field, when I suddenly realized what I was seeing around his head. A bright tunnel shaped light extending through the ceiling was now illuminating his head, neck, and shoulder area. It was as if the dimensions of time, that are woven together like a basket full of brightly colored embroidery threads, had momentarily unraveled allowing the doorway to whatever comes next to open and he was now physically ready to pass through this temporarily opened door.
Golden Light
What I was seeing appeared to be approximately a two feet wide area of a somewhat misty looking light that moved downward around him, surrounding his almost lifeless body. The light appeared almost sleet-like at times, and within this lighted area drifting gradually down upon him were gold flecks of light. I wanted to reach above his head and feel whatever it was I was seeing. Would it be warm or cold? Would it pleasantly vibrate, or tingle and cause numbness in my hands or feel like a vacuum or emit an electrical charge? Could you feel the sleet-like light as it shone down upon him or feel those wonderful golden flecks of light as they drifted gently upon his weakened body?
Because of the location of the many machines around the head of his bed, I would not be able to touch and feel what I could so vividly see those few moments. I was able to find the hidden strength necessary to temporarily detach myself from my sometimes overpowering emotions and observe the beautiful things that were taking place around him. Those glistening golden flecks continued to fall upon him for almost an hour, moving ever so slowly, slow enough that you could count them, like snowflakes during a very light snow, until he had fully and peacefully transitioned and disappeared into the doorway that had opened an hour before to receive him.
During this period I hastily turned to look again at the readings on the monitors and respirator when I was surprised to see the unmistakable outline of my step father, who had also passed the same year as my father. He stood behind my brother Stephen with his hand upon his shoulder, as if to comfort him in some way, the only way he now could. The following day, I would get the opportunity to share this with Stephen, when he expressed concern over his own sanity at the funeral home when he clearly heard Eddie call out my mother's name within moments of the time (without our knowing) that Eddie's physical body had arrived from its trip over 150 miles from the University to my mother's home town. I found out later that day, that my sister had also experienced hearing the sound of his voice and saw him sitting up in bed as he spoke to her the morning of his final day.
So here I was, seven days later walking along the Atlantic Ocean in search of whatever message I was to receive from my brother. What was it that he needed to tell me that was now apparent to not only me but also my friends? I could only guess at the significance of the dream that was told to me, and hoped that my walk down Wrightsville Beach, NC would answer my questions.
I decided to continue to walk until I found a private setting to enjoy a few minutes of quiet meditation. When the time neared the hour of Eddie's passing, I had located the perfect space to achieve my objective. I drew a circle in the sand and sat within it. I visualized filling the circle and myself with white light and love and began to clear my mind of all thoughts. After a few minutes of breathing in the clean, clear salty air, I began to detect the scent of flowers... StarGazer lilies. The same flowers that were draped over my brother's casket at the funeral. I opened my eyes and looked directly ahead, when I saw the outline of my brother as he walked toward me.
I Did Not Die
He quietly approached me and sat beside me within the circle I had made in the sand. After a few moments of silence he began to speak to me. We spent the next half-hour talking about the reality of life and death, and life after death, as he now knew it. He said there was no reason for people to fear death. He said the End as he knew it was not the end, but rather the beginning of so much more, a continuation of life but on a level that he had never before comprehended. He was happy now, excited with the changes that were occurring, and he wanted us to be happy also. He wanted to ease the hurt and pain felt by my family and he said he could do this through me. He wanted me to tell them he was fine now, that he was no longer experiencing any pain or suffering. He wanted me to tell my mother that she had done the right thing by allowing him to pass with dignity. He said he had seen her cry and heard her question her decision moments after his death, and he needed her to know that everything was all right now.
He arose from his seated position and told me that he would be back. He had much more to tell me but he was tired and must rest now. As he walked away, I remembered something I had read a few years ago in Dan Millman's book "The Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior".
It read....
"Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."
I knew as I watched Eddie disappear in the distance that he had definitely not died, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I was certain that I would see him again as I opened even more to life and its mysteries and love and its many wonderful displays.
As I am writing his story I am still comforted by the memory of that visit with Eddie that I was fortunate to have received, and I am certain that I am not alone as I sit here working when once again I begin to detect and enjoy the fragrant scent of the StarGazer lilies...
Copyright ©1999 Coastal Connection
Recommended book:
The Power of Miracles: Stories of God in the Everyday
by Joan Wester Anderson.
About The Author
Kim Hartman resides in Coastal North Carolina where she spends her time writing about her personal experiences and publishing Coastal Connection a Holistic/Metaphysical monthly magazine. She is a Reiki Master, Igili & Feng Shui Practitioner, a Certified Hypnotherapist, and a fulltime volunteer with Special Olympics. She can be reached by email: S
