A woman
fears that her mother has risen from the dead.
Marcy Evens and her girlfriend Joyce were returning home from the local shopping center when Marcy slowed the car to a stop.
“What’s wrong Marcy?” Joyce asked. “You’ve got a green light.”
Just then a cement truck hurled through the intersection. “Whoa! What the hell was that?” cried Joyce.
Marcy calmly stated, “A cement truck just ran the red light.”
Their light was still green and the car behind them started blowing its horn. “Hold your horses,” Marcy said, “I’m going.”
She pressed the gas pedal and they rode the rest of the way home in silence.
Marcy and Joyce had grownup together in this small town. They went to the same school, graduated together and they both married their high school sweethearts. They were the best of friend even to the point of being next-door neighbors. Their kids played and went to school together just as they used too.
When Marcy pulled the car into their adjoining driveways, Joyce said, “Ok. What happened back there?”
“I told you. A cement truck ran the red light.”
“I know that! What I don’t know is – how you knew it before it happened.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“How long have we known each other?
“About thirty years.”
“And during those thirty years, has there ever been a time we couldn’t tell each other everything?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Then tell me how you knew.”
“My mother told me.”
“Marcy, your mother’s dead. I went to the funeral with you – remember.”
“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You’re right. Now what’s going on?”
“Come into the house and I’ll try to explain.”
They got out of the car and went through the back door and into Marcy’s kitchen. “Want some coffee?” she asked.
“Yah, and put a shot of rum in it. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need it.”
With a coffee royal set before her, Joyce sat at the sunlit kitchen table and said, “Ok Marcy, you’ve puttered around long enough. Now come park your butt; start at the beginning and tell me how you knew that truck was coming.”
Marcy came and sat opposite Joyce and began, “Do you remember, about six weeks ago when I had a bad toothache?”
“Yah, you said the dentist pulled it.”
“Right, it was my second impacted wisdom tooth and I wouldn’t let them pull it without first knocking me out.”
“I remember. So?”
“So, while I was under anesthesia, I saw my mother. She stood, or rather floated above the floor.”
“Didn’t it scare you? I would have died on the table.”
“I was at first, because I feared my mother had risen from the dead. That is until she spoke to me.”
Joyce, believing her friend was now putting her on, asked sarcastically, “And what did she have to say?”
“She told me that she had been trying to contact me through dream state since shortly after the accident. She wanted me to know that death had not separated us and that she would continue to be there for me.”
“How is this possible?”
“Mom said it was because of the anesthesia. My mind was more receptive.”
“I didn’t mean, what made it possible to talk to her. If your mother was really there, and not a hallucination, how is that possible; I always thought that after you died – your dead and gone forever.”
“You’re only dead and gone – from our perspective, not from theirs. Mom assured me that all life is continuous, merely separated by dimension.”
A dubious Joyce sat up and slid back in her chair, took a large swallow of coffee and stated, “This is too far fetched for me to believe. What proof do you have?”
“Do you remember when I called you two weeks ago and told you to get to the playground and check on the kids?”
“Yes – what about it?”
“What happened after you got there?”
“The police showed up and carried some guy away.”
“Didn’t you ever wonder why I called you instead of going to the park myself, or at least go with you?”
“You know – I did wonder about that – and I intended to ask you. Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I was here, on the phone with the police.”
“What! Why?”
“Mom told me that a known pedophile would be lurking there and if I didn’t report him, there would be an incident of molestation.”
“I still don’t understand how, but I beginning to believe you. When did she tell you about the truck?
“As we were approaching the intersection.”
“Now you’ve gone too far again. I didn’t hear anything.”
“That’s because you’re not tuned into the proper inter-dimensional vibrations.”
“I have no idea what you just said, but does that mean you converse at will.”
“Yes, any time I like.”
“Does she talk to your father too, or haven’t you told him?”
“I was going too, but Mom said he wasn’t ready.”
“Now I can sympathize with that, I don’t believe I’m ready either.”
“Since we’ve always been as sisters, I was hoping to find the right time to share this with you. I just didn’t know how to begin to tell you.”
“That too I can sympathize with. And now that you have, where is she?”
“Right here. I told you she said she would look after me just as if she were still alive. Only now she can do an even better job because she can see into the future.”
“Really, what am I going to do tomorrow?”
“It doesn’t work that way, but she will warn us of any impending danger.”
“Us? You said us.”
“Yes, you and your family are just as important to her as mine.”
“Then thank her for me and tell her that I feel twice blessed.”
“You just did, and she says to tell her second daughter, ‘You’re welcome.’”