Dream of:02 August 1995 "She Was A Singer"
I had had a dream and was trying to keep it in my mind so I could write it down later. I knew at the end of the dream someone had spoken about some French girls singing, and I tried to focus in on the exact words which the person had spoken.
As I mulled the dream over in my mind, I found myself with my mother, who looked as if she were in her 50s. We were standing in front of a small building, or in front of a small room in a larger building. I now remembered that I had been in the room the day before and that I had discovered a spirit staying in the room. Although my contact with the spirit had been brief, it had been convincing. I had learned the spirit was a woman probably in her late 30s, and I knew she wanted me to come back today so she could reveal more of herself to me.
My mother also knew about the spirit and had come to visit it. Although I perceived there might be some danger, I thought it would be safe enough for my mother to also go inside. But when I opened the door to the room, I almost changed my mind. What yesterday had been an orderly room with furniture neatly arranged was now complete chaos. Everything in the room had been strewn around, knocked over or turned upside down. It was obvious to me the spirit had done this and I said, "You've been very bad."
Nevertheless, my mother and I walked on in. Of all the disorder in the room, one thing caught my attention the most. In a couple places the floorboards had actually been ripped up so forcefully they were little more than splinters. Obviously anything with the strength to do that was more powerful than I had anticipated. And just as obviously this thing could interact forcefully with the real world, something else which I hadn't fully appreciated before. I turned to my mother and said, "She's more powerful than I thought."
But my mother was already headed down a small, rickety, wooden stairs to the basement. I followed, for I knew it was in the basement where we were supposed to encounter the spirit. Logically I knew I should be frightened, but what fear I had was muffled by my determination to continue on. However, I knew that once we reached the basement, we would be at the mercy of the spirit, and I could only hope it didn't intend to harm us.
The basement was small, perhaps five meters by five meters. It had a dank, cement floor and appeared to be completely empty. It was lit by one light bulb which was in a socket on one of the walls. As my mother took a seat on the floor in one corner, the light blinked on and off. I quickly surmised the spirit was controlling the light, and I told my mother she was trying to communicate with us. I also realized the blinking of the light was a sign the light was going to be turned off, so I sat down next to my mother.
Just as I sat down, the light went off. Only then did I realize I had a small stick, something like a long match, in my right hand. The stick was lit on the end something like a sparkler. I waved it in the air a few times and it then went out. We were left in total darkness. I thought I had some matches in my pocket if it became necessary to use them, but I doubted I would have the chance.
I pulled up close to my mother and put my arms around her. I felt much closer to her than I normally did, and it was a good feeling to have my arms around her. I felt as if I loved her in such a wholesome way that it made me feel good to be with her.
At the same time I distinctly felt the spirit was in the room. And I thought my mother felt it too. I was very apprehensive at what the spirit might do to us, but I was braced to confront it. Slowly I began to hear a sound. It was a strange sound because it seemed not to be coming thorough my ears, but through my mind. However it was so clear it didn't appear to be a memory, but an actual sound. I thought my mother must be hearing the same thing.
As the sound grew, I slowly realized what it was: it was the voice of a woman singing. She wasn't singing words, but merely sounds. However the voice was so clear and beautiful, I quickly became absorbed with it.
For just an instant, I had a vision. It was of a man and a woman sitting in a car in Paris. They were having a conversation about something which seemed rather trivial to me when compared with the experience which I was having. Yet what they were saying seemed somehow connected to what I was experiencing.
As my vision disappeared, I again concentrated on the singing voice. The voice was powerful, although the power was used in such a way that it didn't hurt, but only pleased. Suddenly it was clear to me: this was the voice of the spirit. And realizing something else I called to my mother, "She was a singer."
I knew the spirit had made contact with me. I also realized just how powerful she was. But I didn't think she wanted to hurt us, but just to be heard.
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