A real treat on Halloween

It never occurred to me until last night that there really might be something to the notion that Halloween is one of the times of the year when spirits can make contact with the physical world, and when magic is most potent.

But last night I dreamt that my friend Mikey (who passed about 3 years ago) was alive and well and sitting in a living room having a conversation with my brother (who was his best friend when he was alive). I asked him about it - as I always do - with the ever-so-subtle "aren't you dead?" question. He answered calmly that he had the day off - and was visiting.

I kissed him - for a really embarrassing amount of time. Not in a romantic way - but in a way that was the purest way of expressing my love for him. I felt somehow that by kissing him as hard as I could he would understand how much I loved and missed him.

After the kiss I had other places to be.. So I said goodbye to him and ventured off to begin another (much less important) dream.

My subconscious is such a tease.

Anyway - I do like that it happened on such an auspicious night - the night some believe the departed can touch us. At least we know that no matter how gone they are, they live on in our hearts, minds and dreams.

Heaven's Kitchen

I'd never heard the term ADC (After-Death Communication) until this morning when I googled "talking to dead people". But although I may be unfamiliar with the term, I'm definitely familiar with the experience.

So much so that I decided to stop by a particular site and tell my stories to some people studying it. Because I like giving back to the scientific community ;)

As I was writing it, telling my story for what feels like the millionth time (it's hard NOT to tell these kinds of stories, to pretty much anyone willing to listen), I realized that I should probably copy it and paste it here, for you guys.

Because I don't know much - but I know that this life? it doesn't end here.

So here it is, my account of my ADC from a year and a half ago:

It was a particularly difficult night in terms of grief. I missed my friend more than I could express. I also lamented the fact that since his death I no longer believed in anything - all of my spiritual/religious beliefs had blown away like the wind, leaving me a void of faith. I no longer believed in anything. Nothing made sense anymore. I had previously been a spiritually curious person, but at that moment, I was empty.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

And then I found myself in a kitchen.

It was more like a kitchen on a stage, because only the table I was sitting at was illuminated, and the background was dark and hidden in shadow. The table was white and shiny and sitting at it to my left was my friend who had committed suicide months before. He wasn't wearing a shirt and looked incredibly muscular (far more than he had been in life) and his hair was cut quite short, revealing scars where the bullets had passed through his skull. But the fact was, they were scars, he was healed, and whole. And he looked not just healthy, but strong. Very strong.

I can't recall the exact dialogue here, but I knew that he was dead. He looked down at a scar that ran clear across his heart (again, it was healed). He asked if he had done that. I said yes, and he apologized, said he never meant to hurt anyone. I told him I missed him and he put his hand on the table. I held his hand and felt it. Really felt it. It comforted me.

He took my hand and stood up - aimed us toward a pair of swinging doors leading to another room. He told me he wanted to show me something.

I entered the second room. It was another kitchen (I later found out that his favourite room in life had always been the kitchen). This time it had checkered black and white tile flooring and all white cabinets. There was a sink, and below it all of the plumbing was exposed. By the way, Mikey (my friend) was no longer with me. I examined the spot underneath the sink. There was a wicker basket there with a pile of folded dishtowels in it. On top of the pile there was a limp sponge in the shape of a cat.

Suddenly the cat sponge righted itself and began walking like a cat. But then it shook and all of this water splashed off of it (because it was a sponge). On the breeze, Mike said "See what I can do now?".

I woke gradually from this dream, and not only felt calm but had a renewed sense of spirit - everything that I had believed prior to his death about the nature of life, the universe and everything in it had been restored - and not just restored, but my beliefs had become knowledge. Like I suddenly KNEW the things I had only theorized about before.

I also knew, without a doubt that Mikey was okay, and that he was strong again.

Love Is In the Air

You'll have to forgive what promises to be an equally sappy and scattered entry as my mind is split a million different ways, what with my getting married in less than a week and all.

I wanted to talk about the other side and it's connection to love.

No doubt we all have questions, concerns even, over the fate of loved ones who've passed on. Where do they go? Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? Or do they recycle? Will they come back and see me? Do they watch over me? Do they still love us?

I've written before about the huge transformation that happened to me as a result of my close friend's death two years ago. But the greatest gift it gave me was a little bit of comfort about the nature of life after death.

Because I do believe we live on - in one form or another... And we retain the best of ourselves, the part of you that does not fear or doubt or worry. The part that does not know anger. The part that does not hold grudges or resent, or envy. It just is. And it is just love. That's all we take with us. Love.

I've been very fortunate to have met a very talented medium, a suburban mom of three, who drives a minivan and packs her kids lunches is also extremely tuned in to the other side. Her experiences would convince the most hardened skeptic, but she's not out to convert anyone or convince anyone. She just kind of does readings to pay some bills.

Through my many conversations with her, I've glimpsed just a slice of what goes on there. And it's not exactly what you might think.

For one, my friend - who committed suicide - was not in hell or anything remotely like it. And I know you've all wondered, who hasn't. Because at the heart of religion is just a lot of people showing up every week 'just in case' the church is right about sin and repentance and stuff. And a lot of us (myself included at the time of my friend's death) silently wonder how much the church and the bible got right... Including that little part about where suicides go when they die.

But I'm here to vouch for the fact that my friend is fine. He's hanging out on the other side, taking in some lessons, learning from all of his lives, taking stock of things and preparing for his next shift. And he still loves us - he still cares about the little things, like who his sister is dating and how his mother is coping. And he even cares that I'm tying the knot.

In fact, I know he'll be at my wedding on Saturday. I intend to say hello.

If I had to guess I'd say we're all divine. We're all little pieces of God. Because in my perfect universe, God is love. Nothing more. Nothing less.

To be in love, to love someone unconditionally makes you just a little more divine, doesn't it...