Vernie Lynn DeMille

I originally shared this dream  on Tuesday morning, January 28, 2020. I was asked to share it here on my blog as well. May it be a comfort to those who need it.

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January 28, 2020

I had the most amazing dream last night.

In the dream I was in the final stages of dying. I knew that my body was breaking down, that life wouldn’t be an option for much longer, and the discomfort of my systems powering down was gradually easing, leaving me with a pain-free clarity of thought and emotion.

I could feel myself being pulled towards a golden horizon that opened up in my mind and I thought “I can do this one last thing. I can offer this one last gift to my friends and family. I can tell them what it looks like on the other side so they won’t be afraid when they finally step into the sunset, off the edge of the Earth.”

I picked up my phone, turned on the voice recorder and began to describe the physical feelings and emotions of dying in great detail. I described the transition of clay into light and the crystalline clarity of thought that came with it. I had words at my disposal that I’d never understood before, perfect words that told of how much love there was in that space, how fear wasn’t anywhere but in the swiftly receding corners of my mortal mind. I described the memories that came rushing back to me, of life and experience before time, I told of the visions opening before my eyes of the life and experiences that moved out past time. I could see mortality as the bottleneck between two phases of my being, how the entire process of my life was a period of gestation and I was finally ready for birth.

As I spoke into my recorder I could see the strands of light that kept me tethered to the Earth being untied, one by one until only one was left. As I prepared to untie it myself a spirit guide appeared before me. He smiled at me and I embraced him, I don’t remember his name but I knew that he was beloved. He said “Are you ready?” And I was so excited to begin, to leave the record of where I was going behind so that others could follow in their time.

He smiled kindly at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I know you want to leave them with a taste of where they’re going, but you can’t. There’s too much power in your words and they won’t understand that they need to stay for the entire time. They’ll want to follow you too soon. So your recording won’t say what you thought you said, it will be garbled, they’ll think it’s just the fancies of a fevered mind.”

I was so disappointed by this, and I told him “but I want to leave something that gives people hope. I want to leave something that lets them know that there is a point and a purpose to it all, that joy truly is our goal.”

He smiled even more broadly at me and said “But you have shared that! Not with your story of dying, but with your living story. You told that story with your life. And that’s the only story you’re allowed to leave behind, the one you worked on every day you drew breath.”

The truth of it filled me, I turned around to look at the ribbons of light I’d untied, I saw where they bound themselves to other lives and helped to hold others fast to faith, hope, and charity. I realized that the final ribbon was mine to cut and that when I did it would signal the end of my “story” and it would be a testimony of what I had truly believed, what I had truly lived.

I turned to my guide, full-hearted and fearless and said “I’m ready.” I put my hand on the golden ribbon, pulled it loose, and such a glorious, joyful expansion filled my heart and mind that my body could simply no longer hold all of me.

I woke to that feeling of limitlessness, of fearlessness, of becoming. It made me want to work on my “story”, the one I hope to leave behind.

I don’t know when my sunset will be, but until it arrives…I will be writing.