Our Precognitive Trip
Who Would Have Known?
In the summer of 2004, before I went away with my children and grandson on a road trip across America, I called my sister, Comfort, to let her know. Upon returning to England I called to inform her of my return. I could not get to her so I left messages on both the house and the mobile phones. As I was jetlagged, I promptly went to sleep.
That night I dreamt that I had met Sister (as we called her – in Africa you do not call older siblings by their names without a prefix. It is deemed as disrespectful) at a train station, Willesden Junction, which was not far from my home. I told her that I would need her help to plan a funeral back in our hometown of Oron. She asked, ‘When? Now?’ to which I replied, ‘Yes now!’ With that we both left for Oron. However, when we arrived at my father's house in Oron, there was no wailing or gnashing of teeth. It was late at night, at about 3am, all lights were out and the atmosphere was serene and subdued. Then I wondered who had died and where the funeral would be taking place. I awoke from the dream convinced that something was not right with our aged father and we might need to visit him together.
That morning, I phoned my sister again to see if she had received my messages, only to be told by a guest in her house that she was in hospital. I felt I would need to visit her immediately as I was her next of kin (she was unmarried and without children). After confirming what ward she was on. I went down to the hospital, without delay, only to find her sitting up in bed and chatting. She was being observed on the Warfrin medication. I told her she could not remain in hospital for any significant period as I felt something was going to happen to our father and we would need to pull together. She was used to my precognitive dreams and took them seriously because she also had some as well and we would sometimes compare notes. I then relayed the dream to her. We had never travelled to our father’s together because she insisted two princesses could not be on the same plane. Her nickname for me was Princess.
One day led to two days, then to one week. Expecting her to be discharged on the Friday, I told her I would not bother visiting over the weekend as her many friends who could not visit her during the week would come over to her home. In short she would not need or miss me.
That weekend because of the jetlag I was suffering, I spent a lot of time sleeping. On Sunday evening I phoned to see how she was doing and was informed that she had not been discharged from the hospital on Friday. I was surprised. I felt that it might have been for the best in case she needed any medical help, she would have the right continuity to address the problem. My sister had been plagued with a few health problems and had spent some time in different hospitals. So it is better to have comprehensive sequential monitoring to ensure that the matter was properly dealt with.
So first thing Monday morning I was down at the hospital to see for myself what the problem was. My sister who had been perky the Monday before seemed a bit subdued. I could not understand what would have gone so wrong but she said she had developed some pains in her right side which was thought to be her gall bladder. By the Wednesday, she was in so much pain. I remember commenting to a colleague at work on how poorly she looked. On Thursday, she seemed quite subdued and calm. So I thought she was on the mend. By Friday, I was called, as her next of kin, and informed that she was being moved to intensive care. I quickly went to the hospital because I felt she might be very anxious and this would do no good.
Ordinarily, this could be intimidating for others. However, as you have read my mother had spent three months, in a coma, in intensive care and came out well. Therefore as far as I was concerned, my sister being in intensive care was the best strategy as she would get the one-to-one help she needed with less chance of error. I told her so and explained that even though this could be intimidating, there were advantages. We chatted at length that Friday. I had arrived at the hospital at eight o'clock that morning and left at eight o'clock that evening. I am like that with my loved ones.
On Saturday, I was contacted at 7am and told that she had to be sedated and put on a ventilator because she was not getting enough oxygen to her extremities. I did not realise that they would do this before I arrived there. On Sunday, sedation was stopped and tube feeding was begun and by Monday lunchtime with around eleven medical personnel around her bedside, she passed away. To say that I was flabbergasted, stunned and overwhelmed is an understatement. To this day, I have not been able to shed a tear.
This was two weeks two days after that dream. I went into auto pilot, to prepare for the funeral. Three and a half weeks after the dream, we were on our way home to Oron for the funeral, with me in a passenger seat and she in the cargo section of the plane. It has been eight years but it still feels like yesterday.
Of course, I never envisaged at the time that the dream I had had was anything but cryptic, as usual,. So imagine my shock when it turned out to be that direct.
(An excerpt from Sighted But Blind by Marie Jean-Marie)