Monday, July 19, 2010

Someone's Knockin' at the Door

From Jo Floyd Lucas

Dreams. We think it’s a fun subject to kick around until it gets down to the nitty-gritty of it all. Dubby began this subject thread with an invitation to the rest of the Smiling Heart bloggers to share their dreams, and the blog went an entire week without another post. That’s just not normal for this normally talkative group! I am glad that I’m not the only one a bit shy about those crazy things going on inside the privacy of our own heads.

The truth is it’s very difficult subject matter to grasp, and extremely personal to share. The New York Times recently ran an article wherein the author declared Dream Groups to be the next Book Clubs. Not to be cynical, but I’m in doubt about the existence of large numbers of usually all-business New Yorkers sitting down on a regular basis exposing “their most vulnerable and uncensored selves,” as the author contends.

Dreams are often highly personal and very vivid. This can cause us to feel disturbed, agitated, or even scared. Unless one is oblivious. Like me.

It is my opinion that dreams take place more often and in more places than we realize. I have experienced ‘waking dreams’ (some might call them ‘visions’) during meditation, as well as garden variety night dreams, but I’ve also experienced recurring dreams that are very vivid, which I now know is the equivalent to hitting me over the head with information I’m supposed to have for some reason. But I’m oblivious (or I was), and so the information becomes more and more insistent in a futile attempt for me to ‘get it.’

About thirty years ago, I began having a recurring dream. In this dream, I am a passenger in a car (who’s in control here?), and we are driving along a busy highway. Suddenly, we come upon a hillside, where there has just been a jet airliner crash. No one seems affected but me. Everyone is driving along like nothing has happened, but I feel a HEAVY sadness overtake me. Sadness so heavy I can’t breathe. I watch the wreckage as we drive by, unable to take my eyes off the scene, and wonder at the loss of life. I can’t understand why I’m so deeply affected while others are untouched.

Oblivious. Although this dream was upsetting, I rarely gave it much thought. I was a busy, busy young mother of a growing family at the time, and not excited at the prospect of delving one bit deeper into the dream to find any potential messages hiding within. I just wished it would go away.

A few years later, that recurring dream became an actual living nightmare. One hot August night in 1992, I learned that my older brother, Mike, had died in a plane crash in Phoenix. He had been valedictorian of the senior class of Ruskin High School, 1970, and flying was all important to him. He had moved to Phoenix in order to pursue his love of flying. After selling his vintage WWI biplane (a Bucher Jungmeister) a year earlier, he contented himself with taking out rented airplanes from time to time in order to keep his license current. Mike had rented a Cessna that August afternoon, and the plane, according to the NTSB, had simply come apart in the air, the wreckage strewn across a hillside in the desert. It was only after learningabout that small piece of information that I realized I had been offered advanced warning about Mike’s death, but hadn’t wanted to open the message.

The next day my parents, my twin (Joyce), and I arrived in Phoenix to handle the dizzying arrangements connected with a sudden death, and naturally, we were devastated. Most of all, I found myself wondering what would become of Mike’s soul, which was very bright and beautiful. Mike had been an atheist since his high school years, but was still a very loving, ethical man. One of his favorite phrases was, "Good for the sake of Good, not for the sake of God.” For what it’s worth, I always felt he used the words, ‘God’ and ‘Religion’ interchangeably, which I consider to be a mistake. But through it all, Mike was the best man he could be. I hoped his soul was okay. After a mind-numbing day of wretched decision making, the four of us finally turned in for the night.

I dreamed this dream in neon Technicolor, more wildly vivid than anything my mind could ever imagine. I wasn’t in this dream. In fact, no one was in the dream. Not one person was visible in the setting. As I observed the scene, I realized that it was our old Ruskin neighborhood. East 112th Street, to be exact. I had not seen the Ruskin area for almost 20 years, but there it was, right before me. I recognized the street signs. I recognized the neat rows of little houses. I recognized the white stone in front of our house with the numerals ‘7806’ etched into it. I even recognized the old junk heap of a car that sat in the neighbor’s driveway for so many years. There was just one difference. It was Technicolor Ruskin. The colors were so vibrant they actually VIBRATED. Everything. Every tree, every sidewalk, every vehicle, every house, everything was vibrating with life and color, and radiating happiness. I could feel the vibrations, the colors, and the joy inside me.

As I experienced this wonder, I began to hear the voices of children playing. Happy, delighted laughter sprang up from the earth, from the large neighborhood trees, and even from the sky. Laughter was coming from the clouds, and coming from the cars. It was everywhere. Everywhere. The laughter of the invisible children was palpable. Suddenly, it was alive inside me. Suddenly, I was laughter and love and joy.

Then, I could hear another voice above the excited voices of the children. Only I couldn’t really hear it. At least, I can’t begin to describe the voice in words. But I understood the voice to say this,

“Now children, I want to let you all know that another little boy will be joining us today. He’s had a very difficult time, so I want everyone to be especially nice to him.”

With that, the laughter began again, but this time every child’s laughter was on the same wave length, and the vibrations of love built up so high that they lifted me into the air. I experienced a feeling of elation as I never had before. I could hear the cries of welcome to the newcomer, and the loving reception he had been given.

I woke with a start, smiling, and then gradually felt the grief sink in once again. But, oh! That dream stayed with me. It would not leave my body for a good long while. Restless and still full of the dream, I could NOT lay still, and so I rose and went into the hotel room's bathroom so as not to wake Joyce. But, as twins sometimes do, she felt something unusual, and woke, too. We sat in the bathroom as I told her every detail of the strange dream. We cried. We hugged. We commiserated. We marveled. We knew Mike was back home in Technicolor Ruskin…with friends.

I have learned since that day to keep the doors of my heart, mind, and soul open to the messages I might receive. I regret how closed I was for such a long time. Today I encourage everyone to “do me a favor and open the door.”

Oh, yes, I forgot. Although I still think of my brother nearly every day, and have been preoccupied on many occasions with airplanes, travel, and my brother's untimely death, I never had the dream again about the airplane crash on the hillside.


  1. Incredible dream, incredible post. And you: incredible, but you already knew that.

    One of my great teachers said that we can't open to the mysteries unless our energy fields are broken open. Loss, injury, disease, trauma - these are the events that open us to the bigger picture. She said we are all born with perfect energy fields. Then life happens. It seems unfair, doesn't it?

    I am so sorry you had to experience that terrible event, but grateful that you were opened to the bigger picture.

    Thanks for this. Shalom.

  2. Thank you, Reya.

    "Born with perfect energy fields." Oh, that makes so much sense to me now.

    I cherish the first dream for having unconsciously prepared me for the weight of the sadness I'd feel, and I cherish the second for the comfort it gave me.

    I now see that our brain, our soul, and our Maker sometimes come together to grant extraordinary wisdom if we will only listen.

  3. WOW, the blog is amazing, insprational and wonderful! Just like you.

    I didn't dream Scott died, I just knew in my heart if he got a motorcycle~ he would die.

    My dreams are all over the place, I wish I had a fraction of your writing and abilities~
    Much Love!!

  4. It sounds as if you were much more in tune with your inner voice than I was. Of course, at the time, I was a 'youngster' only 38 years old. I've grown up a TON since then!

    Thanks for the kind words, Vicki. You do a wonderful job expressing yourself.

  5. Jo. Thanks for the story. I'm so appreciative of you sharing Mike with us and the technicolor Ruskin dream and the rest.

    You write beautifully.

  6. I think you might have loved that dream, Dubby. It was SO cool.

  7. Jo, you know I had to take a few days to gather my feelings AGAIN! You have shared this with me before, and I am in tears reading it again - but LOVING the vibrating colors! It reminded me so much of the little girl who paints beautiful portraits and shares her talent from God - that she has seen the gazillion extra colors in her dreams with God of heaven....she pretty much captured the glowing effect....and vibrating so that more of the senses are involved with color PHYSICALLY, that is just an awesome dream and vision you described!

    As for the earlier dream - how could you know or do anything with it? There was just not enough information - even had you paid what? There was no person attached to the dream (probably on purpose), no one/passenger/driver seemed affected besides yourself....and that airplane - did it stop you from flying on an airline, or with Mike? When Pete had his dream on the morning of 9/11 of the airliner crash beyond a hill - while he stood on a grassy knoll - he heard the loud incredible sound of the crash - and it was in color and realistic. He woke while I was getting ready to go to work that morning, and I remember him asking if I had heard a noise - it just seemed impossible to him that such a loud exploding noise in his dream would not have a corresponding sound in reality. He almost told me the dream before I went to work, and later when I called him to let him know that I might not be able to leave the AFB - and what had happened, he did describe the dream. It was as if he were describing the last airliner crash - but he had no access to TV at the hangar he worked at - and had not heard the news. To this day, he wonders what he could have said/done with that dream to warn anyone - really nothing comes to mind because the details were intentionally left out IMHO.

    I remember when Mike bought the Bukker - and stopped in St. Louis to call me that he was on his way! He must have been at your house....and I took off work to meet him at State Line Airport. You know the dreams I had after his death - and you also know my brother's wife Carla's experience about Mike - and she had never met him. I don't know that this is the place to write about all of that...maybe in a post someday.

    Good for the sake of good...yes I understand that so much better since I started reading the bible! He has a good heart, and God see
    's our hearts. One thing that I always remembered about Mike was that he did not like to be called an atheist - even though he did not believe in God. He did not want to be classified with any 'group' because it did not really describe or explain his individual/personal thoughts on the subject. Agreement by association was not anything he wanted, and I certainly agree.

    Awaking with a smile - I know that one! I felt so sad when my dad died, but everytime I prayed for him I could feel that 'smile' down to my toes about my dad. It is as if there is a safety net/trampoline in the depths of the soul that bounces one back to the smile-zone, knowing that all is really well with that soul - and that the grief is in missing their voice. Thank you for sharing that wonderful vision - and you write so that I was there! Ruskin in technicolor....makes me smile!

  8. I can only imagine how jubilant Mike must be right now, having finally, FINALLY, achieved the connection he must have wanted so earnestly to achieve at the time he contacted Carla.

    I am so glad to have you as my friend. Though I didn't know you well when you and Mike were together (Why was that? Was I away in college or just oblivious? Probably oblivious again.), I'm so happy to know you now, when we can share his memory.

    I think I may have just spilled some beans...hope you're okay with that. :-)

    Your insight about the dream is very helpful. As I consider your words, I hope that its true meaning WAS the preparation for what I was to feel one day. In a strange sort of way, it did feel familiar, so not quite as frightening.

    It felt wierd to write that Mike was an atheist, so I'm glad to hear he was uncomfortable with the term, too. He was truly an individual in the best sense of the word! I think he always took to heart the admonition of our father to "Soar with the ealges, don't flock with the pigeons." !!

    With great love and appreciation,

  9. WOW~ you women continually amaze me. I am in AWE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  10. Oooh...I just slaughtered that quote by my father! *eagles* of course.

    Vicki, you are as awesome as anyone can be. I just think this group is interconnected on many different levels. Some of us have figured out what those connections are, and some are yet to be discovered. It's a marvelous adventure, all the same!

  11. Jo/Nancy/Vicki/All:

    Nancy. Yes indeed. Please do consider the post you described as "perhaps a future post." Your comments in the blog have been such a treasure and a compliment and enhancement to the original essay which they follow. But hearing your voice of authority as the narrator of your own essay is an appetite I'm developing with great anticipation.

    Also the story of Pete's dream on 9(10?). Wow. Another great essay. Too bad it won't be written as a another dream story in our planned dream series.

    I'm about to break up the dream "block" and have an idea brewing right now. In fact I think I'll write it now. Jo knows me well enough that she won't be surprised by my method to not give it proper process. In other words I'll write it here in a minute, first effort. No rewrite and it will suffer as a result of my low skill and not letting it have the benefit of revision. But before I leave the dream series, I want to suggest that anyone should still come back with dream stories at anytime. I think we and any audience will always be intrested. I just woke an hour ago from a remarkable dream which I'm quite certain was about our Smiling Heart group.

    Vicki--you are awesome. As awesome as anyone can be. You tell us over and over how we've helped you and what we mean to you. I don't think you even have the slightest clue of how much you've helped us and how much you've reinforced our mission.

    Sending you each and every person who may be reading a big powerful smiling heart. Take it in. Feel the contentment and joy. It comes to you because you've attracted it to yourself. Thank you for letting me reflect it back to you and the rest of the world.

    Love and peace,

  12. Thank you, Dubby. Love and peace back at you. I want to hear about your dream when you get the chance.

  13. Jo - somehow I missed this when you originally posted it. I have been so wrapped in my own little world, I haven't stopped to "listen". I'm listening now... and I'm "soaring with the eagles".

    ...and I'm happy to know that when I shuffle off the mortal coil, my soul will be going home to Ruskin. Perfect.
    Thank You!

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  15. To Dubby: I should have also mentioned when you so beautifully said you were sending each of us "a big powerful smiling heart. Take it in. Feel the contentment and joy," how very much your instruction on the Inner Smile meditation has helped me to feel just that.

    It is a beautiful meditation, and never fails to make me feel content and joyful beyond words for everything within me, especially my heart.

    To Rick: My father was a huge fan of poetry, and once, when I asked him to define for me what poetry was, he said simply, "It's the distillation of language into its purest form."

    You are definitely a poet. You are economical with words, but they are incredibly significant. thank you for your poetic comment.


Your visit makes my heart smile. Thank you.