By by Ed Kellogg © 2016
In late December of 2010 a friend of mine, Ginny H., passed away peacefully at her home at the age of ninety. She led an active lifestyle to within a few weeks of the end, when her health failed and she opted to have hospice care at her home. Over the 20 years or so I knew her and her husband David, we’d discussed death and the afterlife on a number of occasions. Shortly after her husband’s death in 2001, she requested that I look him up in a lucid dream, which resulted in one of the funniest and most unusual psychopompic dreams I’ve ever had, which I‘ll relate later on.
Eleven days after Ginny’s passing, I had a spontaneous and rather touching psychopompic lucid dream with her. The day before the dream the caretaker for Ginny’s house had noticed that someone had turned on a light after she’d locked up the night before. She called around asking friends who might have had keys, if they had gone into Ginny‘s house and left on a light.
As far as I know, no one did. I wondered if Ginny had managed to use PK to turn on a light, as she did the normal way on other nights, when still alive. Ginny herself believed that after her husband had died, he would turn on electronic devices for her to show his presence – mostly by making an electronic duck quack, even with the switch turned off, so she had no barrier of disbelief to doing the same herself.
I expect I will remember the wonderful smile Ginny gave me in this dream for a long time, after she realized that she’d died and had nothing more to fear on that account. Taken together, in an odd way these two psychopompic dreams, for Ginny and her husband David, make a matched set.
Ginny H. (1920 - 2010)
EWK 1/07/2011 Lucid
“I find myself at Ginny H.’s house, late night/early morning, not sure how I got there. Ginny bustles around, pleased to have company. Something seems wrong to me – I vaguely recall that Ginny has died. However, when I tell her this, she says that obviously they made a mistake – she hasn’t died. But then I remember more – the phone call from J., the house caretaker, that someone had turned on a light in Ginny’s house after she had locked up the night before – and realize that Ginny must have done that! However, if so, why didn’t J. see Ginny? I tell Ginny, “Wait a minute – I remember seeing your obituary – I looked it up online today, and they’ll hold a memorial service for you this Saturday!” Ginny looks unconvinced, but then I take a better look at her, and realize that she doesn’t look 90, but only 20 or 30.
That convinces me, and I realize I’ve met Ginny in a dream. I speak firmly to her, and say “Ginny, come over here and look at yourself in the mirror. What do you see?” She comes over and looks in the mirror – and breaks out in a wonderful big smile, and does a little twirl as she turns towards me. I remind her that I’d told her I could look her up in a lucid dream after she died, and it looks like I have. I point out that she doesn’t have to look like an old woman anymore now that she’s died. Ginny looks pleased and happy. RWPR”
On 12/27/2010, the day of her death, Ginny gave me a call, and told me in her usual forthright fashion that “You had better talk with me now because I’m dying, and you won’t have a chance later.” I reminded her that I could look her up in a lucid dream after she died, just as I had looked up her husband Dave years before. We talked about whether she would make it through to 2011, and while she told me she thought she would, she passed away that evening.
David H. (1925 - 2001)
In the account given below, only a few weeks had passed since the death of David H. Ginny strongly urged me to visit him, and against my better judgment, the next time I had a lucid dream I did. Normally an active and cheerful man, Dave died after an excruciating year of suffering, that he spent immobilized lying in bed with terminal emphysema. I learned a lot from this dream, which in retrospect I consider almost hilariously funny. Not exactly the usual tender moments of reunion with those we care about that most people report in psychopompic dreams!
Fully Lucid “. . . I remember that I wanted to try visiting Dave, and I call out “Dave H.!”, Dave H.!” I fly into a sort of hospital dorm room – in what looks like an inexpensive convalescent home. I find Dave lying down in bed. He looks healthier – 70 or so, but angry and in a temper. I greet him, and he shouts “Go Away!” in a strident and unfriendly manner. I persevere, but he really doesn’t want me there. I ask if he has a message for his wife Ginny, but he shouts “Go Away!” again.
I leave his room, and look around – a sort of low vibration, convalescent home – big, grayish and dirty in appearance. I see a room full of men who died of terminal diseases, one man has blood on his mouth, and died of TB or cancer. He tells me got it when he worked as an orderly. He really resents this, and resents my health – – he grapples with me — even trying to breathe on my mouth to infect me, as he wants me to suffer as he did. I push him away.
I leave the room and decide to look for Dave once more. I find him by himself, sitting at a small wooden table, eating a bowl of something. On seeing me, he yells angrily, “Didn’t you understand you dimwit! Go Away!” I notice that at least now he seems up and about – I tell him this does seem an improvement doesn’t it? I also remind them that he doesn’t have to look like an old man — he could have any body he wants. He gets up and keeps shouting, “Go Away!” at me. I can tell he means it. I tell him, “OK, I’ll go away, and I will not visit you again, at least not until you visit me in a dream.” He sort of sneers, but looks pleased – also his body has changed — he now looks like a teenager! Angry and glowering – but still quite improved. Also, I notice he no longer yells at me. I ask him once again if he has anything he wants me to relay to his wife, Ginny. He just stands there silent — refusing to say a word.
I go outside to the entrance hall, where I meet the female\male? attendant/angel? and ask. “What gives with Dave? Why does he feel so angry and why the old body image? He acts like a bad tempered adolescent!”
The attendant laughs, and says “That seems about right. Dave actually looks about in his thirties and forties usually (without me looking) – he still adjusts. His physical life now seems more like a dream to him, about equal to 30 hours of this (after) life. Not much. I ask “Can he differentiate between his waking physical reality life, and his after death life?” The attendant answers “Yes, but this just doesn’t feel significant or important to him. RWPR.”
In the dream I told Dave H. I would not visit him again until he had first visited me. He did so about two months later – about when I’d normally expect recovery, and acted quite friendly. I’ve seen him a few times since then in lucid dreams, looking in his twenties.
After the death of a close friend or a loved one, the grieving process often takes years, even decades, to accomplish. Although we may believe that they have “passed on,” most people still doubt, and without a way to confirm that those they care about still exist “somewhere,” deaths often cause emotional wounds very difficult to heal.
(See also: Psychopompic Dreaming: Visits With Those Who Have Passed On? by Ed Kellogg, Ph.D. ©2004. Presented at IASD’s Third PsiberDreaming Conference, September 19 – October 3, 2004. http://www.asdreams.org/telepathy/2004kellogg_psychopomp.htm )