I dreamed about Michael
April 11, 2016 | My Jottings
Ever since Michael died fourteen months ago, I’m been anxious to dream about him. I have had three or four dreams with him in them, and they’ve always been sort of fleeting and odd, rather than something I can try to remember forever.
In my dream I was walking down 58th Avenue East in the Lester Park neighborhood of Duluth, MN. I was walking on the sidewalk on the left side of the street, heading toward Lake Superior, which was less than a block away.
This area isn’t far from the neighborhood Michael and I lived in with three of our daughters for almost 25 years, so I recognized it right away in my dream.
It was summer I think, because there was green grass on people’s yards and on the boulevard by the sidewalk. I was walking at a moseying pace, looking down at my shoes, which were a light brown suede, like nothing I own at all. They looked a little like this, except they were shiny from being worn a lot.
As I got closer to London Road, which is right on the edge of Lake Superior, I heard two male voices behind me, going the same direction I was, and I could tell they were walking at a livelier pace than I.
I stepped to the right to allow them to pass, and looked over my left shoulder as they drew near. One man was a person who used to attend the same church many years ago, named Peter Niss. The other man was my husband Michael.
I dug out this photo of him, because this is about how Michael looked in my dream; in his late thirties, curly brown hair with hardly any gray yet, a bit of a beard. And strong and vigorous and always in motion.
I gasped and cried out desperately as he and I made eye contact, “Michael!!!” And he looked at me as he passed with his two-sets-of-teeth grin that I loved so much, and then I asked breathlessly, “Are you okay?” He nodded and said emphatically, still smiling, “Oh yeah!” Like, If only you could know how okay I am…
In my dream I knew this was some kind of visitation, that his presence was unusual and I was not to touch him. Neither one of us moved toward each other as he passed and he didn’t slow his steps.
I asked him three or four questions as he and Peter (who doesn’t figure into this dream aside from walking with Michael) strode along, and I can’t remember all of them. I can only recall the last thing I asked him before my dream ended. Michael was about 15-20 feet ahead of me now and I was crying, from joy and sorrow both, and I called out as I sobbed, “Michael!!! Can you see us?”
And he again nodded his head and responded cheerily, “Yes!”
And then I woke up.
I have told a couple of people about my dream and each time, I’ve wept. I’m wiping tears as I type this now.
I’ve often wondered if the people who’ve gone on to heaven before us can see our goings on, and if so, how much God permits them to witness here on earth. Hebrews 12:1-2 says:
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
I’m grateful for this dream, even if the source of it was my longing heart rather than from God Himself. It felt like a gift.
It was so wonderful to see Michael again!