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I woke up crying last Monday morning, May 28, 2007.  I dreamt a tidal wave was approaching and the water areas of the Delaware and Chesapeake bays were going to flood some of the populated areas; I had to get my family member out of her Maryland town, because martial law was to be declared or was declared.  Only law enforcement, fire, emergency medical and military families could get out first.    I was running through a field, near small hills and a wooded area around me.  Behind me I could see the cresting of the waves -- angry dark brackish water churning and becoming ready to fall.  The mud of the hills began to churn and move -- forming almost sculptured murals that would take on the forms of bodies, almost like some stations of the cross that you find in church.

There were people in this field.  Each person was making movement as if going through everyday motions, a woman ironing, a man reading a book or a newspaper, another woman cradling something in her arms.  It was if they were miming or mimicking the actions.  There was no iron in the woman's hands, there was no book in the man's hands, nor was there a child in the cradling woman's arms.  I realized they were fetches -- apparitions of living souls that would soon die.  I figured I could say something to them, change their final outcome. I didn't know if they could see me or hear me.  I went to each, and they reacted as if I was the ghost.  "Who are you?  Why are you here?  Get out of my home."  I tried to tell each to get somewhere safe; none would listen. I left them after seeing this was futile.

Soon I approached a pink marble stone that stood in the middle of this field. On it was etched a mother and child. The etching reminded me of the logo for Oil of Olay. My family member told me that I have to put my hand out to it, which I did. The stone began to recede in on itself -- like a collapsible cup, but the etching on view remained intact and didn't change dimensions.  I felt myself pulled through it. It was like a portal. I was next in a town that was flooding quickly.  People were stealing whatever they could to get ahead of the water -- boats, bicycles, cars, life-vests, inflatable rafts.  There was a communications building that I knew I had to get to call home and to receive a phone call.  I ran to this building to call my mother. 

I was told she made several attempts to get a hold of me.  By the time I got to the building, it was totally submerged.  The hallways were flooded from floor to ceiling.  I had to evacuate the water, and in order to do this I had to enter a code.  I couldn't read it under the water.  I saw above me something floating that looked like a baseball cap; it was some type of diving helmet with goggles in place of a face plate.  I put the cap on, pulled down the goggles, and went back to put in the evacuation code.  I couldn't make out all of the code, and had to trace out the letters and numbers with my fingers.  I entered 201-ARIA-717, and the water began to recede The phone began to ring and I answered it.  It was my mother;"I requested they put in a compassion call to you.  I called to say good-bye." I gripped the phone harder.  "Mom, don't.  I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment.  I was never the perfect son." 

The line went dead, just the flat noise of the dial tone and then the shriek of phone-off-hook tones. I was screaming "No!"  I began yelling to people that were coming into the building "My mother's dead."  I was crying.  The people just looked at me for a second and continued to go about their business.  I woke up crying, saying over and over "My mother's dead."

My mother died Saturday, July 14, 2007.

Thanks I will.  I freaked my wife out when I woke up that morning over a year ago.  I was sobbing for about two hours.  She told me to call my mother and talk to her, but I didn't want to upset her about the dream.  Sometimes I wish I had, other times I'm glad I didn't.  This past March, I had another dream of my mom, as she sat up in a white linened bed and  I had my kids with me.  She called them all around her and laughed as they asked questions which I didn't hear.  My mom called me over and told me not to be angry any more and that she was happy where she was.  I'm not the religious type, but I have to admit that I was angry at God for a number of months.

Harp3726 says ...

I woke up crying last Monday morning, May 28, 2007.  I dreamt a tidal wave was approaching and the water areas of the Delaware and Chesapeake bays were going to flood some of the populated areas; I had to get my family member out of her Maryland town, because martial law was to be declared or was declared.  Only law enforcement, fire, emergency medical and military families could get out first.    I was running through a field, near small hills and a wooded area around me.  Behind me I could see the cresting of the waves -- angry dark brackish water churning and becoming ready to fall.  The mud of the hills began to churn and move -- forming almost sculptured murals that would take on the forms of bodies, almost like some stations of the cross that you find in church.

There were people in this field.  Each person was making movement as if going through everyday motions, a woman ironing, a man reading a book or a newspaper, another woman cradling something in her arms.  It was if they were miming or mimicking the actions.  There was no iron in the woman's hands, there was no book in the man's hands, nor was there a child in the cradling woman's arms.  I realized they were fetches -- apparitions of living souls that would soon die.  I figured I could say something to them, change their final outcome. I didn't know if they could see me or hear me.  I went to each, and they reacted as if I was the ghost.  "Who are you?  Why are you here?  Get out of my home."  I tried to tell each to get somewhere safe; none would listen. I left them after seeing this was futile.

Soon I approached a pink marble stone that stood in the middle of this field. On it was etched a mother and child. The etching reminded me of the logo for Oil of Olay. My family member told me that I have to put my hand out to it, which I did. The stone began to recede in on itself -- like a collapsible cup, but the etching on view remained intact and didn't change dimensions.  I felt myself pulled through it. It was like a portal. I was next in a town that was flooding quickly.  People were stealing whatever they could to get ahead of the water -- boats, bicycles, cars, life-vests, inflatable rafts.  There was a communications building that I knew I had to get to call home and to receive a phone call.  I ran to this building to call my mother. 

I was told she made several attempts to get a hold of me.  By the time I got to the building, it was totally submerged.  The hallways were flooded from floor to ceiling.  I had to evacuate the water, and in order to do this I had to enter a code.  I couldn't read it under the water.  I saw above me something floating that looked like a baseball cap; it was some type of diving helmet with goggles in place of a face plate.  I put the cap on, pulled down the goggles, and went back to put in the evacuation code.  I couldn't make out all of the code, and had to trace out the letters and numbers with my fingers.  I entered 201-ARIA-717, and the water began to recede The phone began to ring and I answered it.  It was my mother;"I requested they put in a compassion call to you.  I called to say good-bye." I gripped the phone harder.  "Mom, don't.  I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment.  I was never the perfect son." 

The line went dead, just the flat noise of the dial tone and then the shriek of phone-off-hook tones. I was screaming "No!"  I began yelling to people that were coming into the building "My mother's dead."  I was crying.  The people just looked at me for a second and continued to go about their business.  I woke up crying, saying over and over "My mother's dead."

 

My mother died Saturday, July 14, 2007.

Reading your story was fascinating, as I got closer and closer to the end the more emotional I got, by the time I finished I was crying.  We never know what is on the horizon, we just have to accept the signs.

The more open we are to them, the more insight we receive.

Blessings to you and yours.  It was great to know Mother returned to let you know she was happy.  Bless her soul 

When I had told my sister of this dream, she told me I was never a disappointment -- however, no argument for not being a perfect son...LOL.  However a friend of mine that is into the psychology of dreams said that water is a sign of change and birth.  I won't pretend to undertstand all that...parapsychology or psychology of the dream...all I know is that it scared the shite ouf of me.  It took my wife 2 hours to calm me down.  I kept telling my wife that I was doing my job and I wasn't there for my mother.  The one thing that I was told that did make sense was that my wife said I was doing what was expected of me...no more no less.  As for the "fetches"  Irish superstition says that they are the souls of those that will pass into Heaven within a years time.  None of the fetches were people I knew, but when I was "yelled" at to get out of their homes, I wonder now if they saw me in their dreams -- that is if they are or were actual people.

I had the same dream probably about 7 times, over a 3 year time span. The dream was that my brother was in an airplane and it was going to crash. I would be on land under the plan looking in the air yelling for someone to save my brother, save my brother. I would always tell him that i had the same nightmare again and he would tell me, "sis, you worry to much about me" I in fact did worry alot about him. On 11-11-04, my worst nightmare came true... I lost my brother in a horrible accident. He just got off duty, an 18 wheeler lost control and hit him head on, killing him instantly. The part of my dream?.....The trucking company was..........LANDAIR!!

July, 2007, I had a dream on a Friday nite that something bad was going to happen to one of the officers at the department where I used to work.  I couldn't see who he was, but by his stature I believed I knew.  The next nite, Saturday, I had almost the same dream as the nite before, but this time he told me he died and gave me some info to pass along, but I still could not see his face.  As soon as I woke up I ran upstairs to turn on the tv to see who it was and what exactly had happened as I didn't have specific details about the crime other than he'd been shot.  My daughter was standing in the kitchen and told me right away about an officer getting shot during the nite.  I just looked at her and said "I know, he died."  She knew I'd had one of "those dreams" again... I called the Shift Commander and as he told me who it was, I remembered yet another dream I'd had on Thursday nite.  Everything I had needed was right there and it all made complete sense. 

I know there was nothing I could've done to change the events, but I was grateful that he chose me to pass his msgs along.

This is an excellent story, I have a theory that there are people we are connected to and become connected to in a phsycic subconsiousness. This is why many things happen when we are sleepy or asleep, our minds eye does not allow us to interpret directly because our concious mind will look for reasoning and explination of everything. We may be more directly linked to relatives phsycicly especially when we subconsciously feel we have had no closure in relationships, also when someone is dying they may be getting reconnected with the external realm of body and mind allowing them to communicate with you through dreams. The man who started this forum, his mom was telling him she loved him and cared about him no matter what he thinks of himself and theit relationship. We are all made up of energy and energy according to scientists does not die, it just changes form.