Enisa Haines continues with her last installment of her real life
Now I wonder, how many others are there like me who see or hear or sense things that are different? If anyone does, please respond. I’d love to hear your stories.
Fourteen years back my father was struck by illness. His aorta ruptured. Surviving that is extremely rare, even with the emergency operation, his life at the mercy of fate. I couldn’t believe that, didn’t want to. Before sleep the night after the operation, I prayed that he was saved. And the dream came.
My father stood in the dark distance with his back turned toward to me. He wore a gray suit. I had no idea why that fact stood out but it did. He faced a cave. I wanted to go to him but it was as if he was in a scene on the television and I was outside watching. He walked into the cave and kept walking. A pinprick of light appeared ahead. My heart stalled. I knew then where he was. I knew what that light was. I screamed for him to turn around but he kept walking and the pinprick grew.
I screamed again. As if hearing me, a voice came from the direction of that light. ‘Go back. It’s not your time.’
‘Yes!’ I called out. Listen to the voice, Dad.’
He didn’t. He kept walking closer to the light. I screamed again, and again the voice called out, ‘Go back. It’s not your time. Go back.’
My father stopped. He stared at the light for long seconds while I pleaded for him to listen to the voice. Then he shrugged, turned around and headed back toward the cave’s entrance. Outside once again, he stood still, as if wondering what he was doing there. Then, from behind his back, a figure appeared. He looked at me, smiled, and nudged my father forward. And then he was gone and only my father stood there.
I woke up then and while everyone around me, family and doctors included, was convinced my father would die, I alone knew with 100% positivity that he would survive. I believed in my dream. My father did survive and lived a further 12 years—bonus years the doctors called them—even with all the odds stacked against him. I revealed that dream to him, to everyone who’d listen, and each time I felt the need to state he’d worn a gray suit. I didn’t figure out why until the day he died.
One day in the ensuing years I played a ‘question game’ with him. ‘If I was on a desert island alone,’ I said, ‘or if it was my last day on earth, and I had only one choice of food I could eat, my choice would be cherries.’ I asked him what would be his choice. He answered, ‘Trahana.’ That’s a soup common in the regions of Southern Europe, a soup my mother often served and he loved.
I played that game every now and then. My answer was always ‘cherries’. His answer was always ‘Trahana.’ How does this fit into the paranormal? Five weeks before my father died, he deteriorated and was taken to hospital. He disliked hospital food (who likes it, really?) and so every night we would bring home food. One night I asked him what he’d like us to bring. ‘Trahana,’ was his response. The next night I gave him the soup which he ate which real joy. The next morning he passed away. The ‘Trahana’ was his last meal, just like he’d said it would be. Is that not paranormal?
But the paranormal instances involving my father didn’t end there. The night before he died, when I arrived at the hospital he asked me if I saw the battle going on and pointed to the wall in front of him. I saw no battle and told him so. He got agitated and kept pointing. I told him I didn’t see what he saw but I believed him. ‘What does what you see mean?” I asked him. He looked at me and said, ‘It means I’m coming home.’
I smiled and said, ‘Yes, you are, Dad. You’ll be out of the hospital soon. You’ll be home.’ Next morning he did go home. But it wasn’t his ‘earth’ home.
The night he died, I asked my sleep to show me that Dad was fine. Another dream came. Again I was watching like an observer and again it was as if he was part of a television scene. Light was all around. He was walking forward, his back to me. He had on a white suit. Again, the suit was somehow significant. The suit was strange. My father was very thin yet the suit jacket was very wide, at least six sizes too big and the sleeve of left arm bulged.
I was puzzled but I didn’t say anything and unlike that first dark dream I had no urge to stop him walking. An archway appeared and inside that archway the brightest white light glowed. Before he reached the archway my father stopped and an amazing sight filled my eyes. From that bulging sleeve and that oversize jacket, six male faces appeared. I didn’t know why but the number was significant. The faces turned and each looked at me with a smile. Then those faces clung close to my father as he stepped over the arch and walked into the light.
He turned around and suddenly he was a laughing little boy waving at me. Then he turned and the light changed to a white river. He ran into the water and toward the water’s edge where the river became a waterfall. Down below a woman stood with her back to me. She was young, blond-haired. She looked up at the top of the waterfall and spread her arms wide, catching my father in her arms as he jumped.
My mother was shaken when I told her. ‘Six faces?’ she asked. ‘They’re his six brothers.’ Six brothers? I’d known of only three. I learned then he’d had three others who’d died of childhood diseases. The woman was his mother. I’d never been told she was blond. The white suit, and the grey suit of the earlier dream? The religious leader told me the grey suit of earlier meant he wasn’t ready at the time. The white suit showed he was ready.
So many incidences that can’t be explained with logic. Is it any wonder that I’m a firm believer in the paranormal?
Enisa Haines is a founding member of RWA. She has previously written romantic suspense but has discovered her real love is paranormal romance. Her current ms was a finalist in the 2014 RWA Selling Synopsis contest and has progressed to the 2nd round of the 2014 RWA Emerald Award.