She was sitting in an aisle seat on an airplane, calm and composed. I was walking up the aisle toward her. When I reached her, she looked at me and said two words.
Be strong.
That was the entire dream.
At the time I had not one spiritual bone in my body. I wasn’t looking for meaning. I was just a woman who had lost her mother, moving through the days the way you do. I noted the dream, tucked it away, and kept going. She had said those words to others too. It was something she said.
I didn’t know then that it was also something she was saying to me across time.
Today is the anniversary of her leaving this world, and I have been sitting with that dream again. All these years later, after the long and solitary work of healing, after learning who I really am, after coming to understand that I am a light being in human form with something to offer, I think I finally understand what she saw.
She saw this. Not who I was in 2002. Who I would become.
She knew I would one day sit down and write my way through the pain. That I would find my voice. That I would have something real to offer people who are still in the dark.
The dream wasn’t meant to land then. It was planted. And it has been waiting all this time, in Divine order, for the moment I would finally be ready to receive it.
Be strong, she said.
She wasn’t talking to the woman I was. She was talking to the woman I am now. The one writing these words. The one who made it through everything that stood between that dream and this moment.
And all these years later, I finally know it too.
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