in dreams

Remember I posted a little while ago about signs from beyond?  There are many people who believe that our loved ones return to periodically inhabit wild life such as birds or the like or to leave things like feathers or dimes in random places for us to find.  I've seen a number of dimes around the house, but as dear Christopher is always leaving a little "trail" as he moves about the house, I can't be altogether sure that the dimes I'm finding are not just spare change that he's missed putting in his piggy bank. However, another 'sign' known to happen is for the loved one to speak in one's dreams, or even be the voice that you hear in your head when you're thinking of something or struggling with a decision. Prior to losing Dad, I was always more skeptical of any of these things, and I could easily find a more scientific explanation for 'unknown' happenings.  I have to admit, however, that I am now a lot more open to other possibilities, and have caught myself asking him to leave me a sign.

A few weeks ago I woke up crying. Crying from the dream that I had just had. It was one of those lazy Saturday mornings when you wake up, look at the time on the alarm clock, consider getting up but then roll over and go back to sleep again. A few times. And in between each perusal of the clock, dreaming in broken intervals. In my last broken dream, there were remote control aircraft everywhere. They were buzzing around my head, zooming in and out, back and forth. I was getting more and more irritated by the second. I walked down the hallway, glancing into a bedroom where I found Dad, sitting on the edge of the bed,  manning every one of the aircraft controls. He had a controller in each hand, one balancing in the crook of his elbow, shoulder and one in his lap. He looked up at me, glasses down on his nose, with a great big smile on his face, and said, "Hey babe! I'm just stopping in to let you know that I'm doing okay!"

Thank you, Dad. I needed that. More than you know.  Happy belated Father's Day in Heaven...xo.

I want a change...

I graduated from university with a degree in English. I've always enjoyed writing, and I pride myself on having a keen eye for finding grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. I started this blog to help keep my writing skills up. To this day, I will sometimes read old posts and if I find an error I missed it makes me crazy and I fix it immediately - not that anyone else will likely see it. I was thrilled when Facebook came out with the 'edit' option for posts so errors there could be fixed, too. And yes, maaaaybe I'm slightly anal and on the verge of OCD, and ok, yeah, maybe a slight perfectionist.  Surely to God I could put those qualities to work for me though, right?

As of late, I've been really thinking hard about the path my life has taken. How I've stayed in a job that I feel doesn't allow me any type of personal growth whatsoever because it merely keeps a roof over our head and food on the table (but, at what cost?).  As I age, I'm routinely being reminded of the fragility of life and how quickly it can be pulled out from underneath us and I have to wonder if I need some change - some big change - in my life.  Change scares the shit out of me though. Sometimes the normal, mundane, boring routine is a comfort. Branching out into the unknown can lead to failure. But, it, too, could lead to the best life has to offer, right?  So, what am I waiting for?

Good question.

The thing is, I'm not sure how to make a change. Where do I start? I would love to put my English degree to work for me. Hell, if I could get paid to blog, I'd be thrilled. Last night, I attended a writing workshop. It was hosted by a local writing/editing duo who have celebrated many successes together doing what they love - writing and editing. They're an inspiration. I went away from that workshop with a smile on my face and a new hope that maybe, just maybe, some day I'll be comfortable leaving the constraints of the office world to freelance at what I love to do.  If there are any head hunters crawling through the interwebs searching for a sometimes witty (?), grammar-friendly individual who wants to write, or even edit or proofread, please, please, please get in touch :).

A big, huge shout-out to Jaime and Christine at Manley Mann Media for pointing out to me that there IS more to life than a call center world. You have no idea how much you've helped me!

You've gotta give me a sign...

Up until we lost Dad I hadn't really given much thought to messages 'from beyond'. In fact, I'd likely have been one of the ones trying to find a scientific explanation for the 'signs'.  Now, I want to believe - have to believe - that there's more to 'life' than our time here on Earth. I have to believe that someday, on some other plane or level, I will be reunited with Dad, and those others who have left this Earth too soon.  I wish for 'signs'; I look for signs. Sometimes, I think I wish too hard and I push them away.  I've had a few though...

• Back in 2002 I worked at Watts Communications (just another call center). During a back-shift rotation I had gone to bed to take a nap ahead of having to start a week of midnight to 8am shifts. I lived with Tanya at the time. I felt someone poking my leg to wake me up. Upon waking I heard Tanya in the other room, blow drying her hair.  No one else was there. And I can say with one hundred percent certainty that it was not a part of a dream. I have always taken that as a sign from Dad that he was okay.
• Just after Dad passed,  I was over at Mom's, and we were going through some old home movies that he had converted to VHS.  I was sitting on the floor by the TV.  On the wall in the living room (above my head where I was sitting) is an old clock that Mom & Dad got when they lived in Europe. It has weighted brass balls (exactly like the one pictured here: http://www.ebay.com/itm/Vintage-Howard-Miller-funky-wall-clock-time-strike-1970s-brass-ball-weights-/311012621737?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item4869cbfda9). One of those balls shifted and I must have jumped two feet off the floor.  Despite Mom insisting that the ball hadn't been on it's anchor properly from the last time the clock was wound, I'm certain it was Dad telling us that he's always "there" - and, always the jokester, he'd definitely have gotten a kick over giving me a scare.
• A few years ago, just around Christmas I was sitting on the couch. Zoe was in my lap, and Bosco was on the loveseat. Chris was in his office. The heat wasn't on (ie, no forced air blowing up from the vent behind the couch), and it being December, there was no window open, of course. I sat watching tv, and felt the gentlest tug on my hair - as though someone was running their fingers through it. Some might have gotten chills or shivers. I felt the calmest, warmest feeling wash over me.  He loved Christmas so much. I know it was my Christmas hug from him. No one can tell me different...

Have you gotten any "signs" from 'beyond'?  Tell me about them! We are not alone - I came across this article today, and I absolutely love it:  http://thechronicleherald.ca/novascotia/1273460-dimes-from-heaven-women-find-coins-after-loved-ones%E2%80%99-deaths.

I'm sure there have been a few random dimes that have crossed my path that I didn't think much of...from now on, I'm going to be paying careful attention.  If he realized how grim the bank funds were he'd be tossing those suckers at me like a boss.  C'mon already Dad, toss a few down. Love you, and miss you...xoxo.