By Maria Isabel Pita © 2017
I believe this is a fine example of how it can sometimes take years for the significance of a lucid dream to reveal itself.
A few months ago, I came across a book entitled He and I by Gabrielle Bossis. I had never heard of this book or author—or so I thought. When I began reading, how Christ spoke to Gabrielle felt so right and true to me that I was compelled to find out more about the woman who had recorded the Lord’s intimate communications with her. Her name kept ringing a bell inside me. Eventually, I remembered a lucid dream from years ago, the significance of which had remained a mystery. I had entitled that dream “Gabrielle 1873.”
Excerpt from my Lucid Dream, “Gabrielle 1873,” of March 8, 2013:
Almost on the ground now, I resign myself to finding a door to use the key on, hoping it will lead directly to the beach, where my lucid dreaming friend James and I are trying to meet. But I’m not happy with that. I do the usual thing of trying to find a way through the buildings by climbing through a window, and looking for an exit in the direction I want to go, but I have no patience for this anymore. Exasperated, I head back outside, sensing that gravity has become more realistic and that just flying away isn’t an option for some reason. I perch on the thick, braided, dark-green “rope” of a traffic signal and walk across it like a tightrope. holding on to James’ key, which transforms, shedding two smaller keys and becoming the correct shape and color but easily three times bigger than the actual waking reality key. This seems odd but somehow promising.
The traffic signal “tightrope” leads me into the thick white branches of a tree. The city feels different around me, more quaint and residential. The tree is a barrier to my desire to move on to my destination, yet its intricate and complexly curving ascending limbs provide an irresistible obstacle course. I make my way up it, and am intrigued when I perceive a white door looming just above me to the right. The door is partially covered by the roots of a tree so vast, they are all I can see of it.
The roots have grown around this door, clutching it rather like a cut gem is held in a ring’s setting. It looks as if I won’t be able to open this door even if I can manage to unlock it, but I’m compelled to investigate. The keyhole is much too small for James’ large key, so I produce a golden key chain, from which hang a small variety of keys. I study the assortment, honing in on a slender golden key with a delicate smooth round head. I slipthrust it into the lock, working it in, and turn it to the right. It’s gratifying when I feel the movement and hear the deep “click” indicating success.
I push open the door and look inside. Below me, as though I’m viewing it from an open upstairs foyer, I see two small gas lamps, delicate antiques, their glass tops gently beveled and a soft white, very distinct. They are part of a similarly elegant but subdued decor, clearly a woman’s house or apartment. The modest living area opens onto a kitchen, in which I can just make out a woman’s figure to the far left, apparently working over the stove. As she turns and walks into the living area, she says, “Come in, dear.”
She is an older woman with white hair, a little stout, wearing a long white dress simply cut, and she is really there, not a vague Dream Figure. She feels very nice and welcoming, and I sense something important is going on here. Seriously intrigued, I ask, “Who are you?” and she replies, “Gabrielle, 1873.”
I become aware of another woman in the room—also dressed entirely in white—when she comes to stand beside the older woman close to a black fireplace mantle, and they both smile up at me. I ask, “And who are you?” She doesn’t respond, so I address the white-haired woman again, “You did say 1873?” She confirms that she did, while in her hands gently turning a rectangular object that appears to be part of an antique clock. Looking at the younger woman again, I say, “And I assume you are also Gabrielle?” She simply smiles up at me again without replying, and I slowly wake.
I used a golden key to open the white door into Gabrielle’s apartment, located in a massive white tree that seemed to join heaven and earth, comparable to the proverbial Tree of Life but also the Living Vine spoken of by Jesus. At the time of this dream, I had no clue that lucid dreaming was leading me on a path in keeping with Christian mystical tradition.
After I re-read my dream, I went online to learn more about Gabrielle Bossis. I came across some forums where other Christians were asking about her and her book, wondering if her personal revelations had been approved by the Church, and if it was “safe” to read He and I. I learned the Imprimatur for her book was given by his Excellency Jean-Marie Fortier, Archbishop, Sherbrooke, Quebec. From Wikipedia: “An imprimatur (from Latin, “let it be printed”) is an official declaration from the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church that a literary or similar work is free from error in matters of Roman Catholic doctrine, and hence acceptable reading for faithful Roman Catholics.” I was glad to hear it, but not surprised.
At first, nothing I read about Gabrielle seemed to relate to my dream except her name, until I found out she had been born in 1874, which meant she was likely conceived in 1873. This provided another tenuous link to my dream. But it was not until I saw a photograph of the inside of her home, and a photo of her as a very young woman, that I began to think my dream had, indeed, foretold my discovery of He and I, and how deeply it would resonate with me.
In the image of her home, I saw sitting on a table a clock nearly identical to the clock I had seen the Gabrielle of my dream holding in her hands as she stood beside a black fireplace mantle, which was also in the image. The feel, style, and decoration of her home matched the one from my dream. And another photo of Gabrielle as a very young woman dressed entirely in white also seems to have been glimpsed beforehand by my dreaming soul. Then I read the accompanying text:
“On very rare occasions in her early life, Gabrielle had been surprised by a Mysterious Voice, which she heard and felt with awe, and sometimes anxious questionings, which she perceived to be the Voice of Christ. It was only at the age of 62, however, that this touching dialogue with the ‘Inner Voice’ began in earnest, continuing (at least in her notes) until two weeks before her death on June 9, 1950.” —From Mystics of the Catholic Church.
This seemed to explain why I had seen an old woman and a very young woman standing side-byside in my dream, and had mysteriously known they were the same person. A few days later, I learned that Gabrielle had been born on February 26, 1874, which meant that she had, indeed, been conceived in 1873.
I cannot, and have no desire to, prove Gabrielle Bossis truly was the Gabrielle from my lucid dream. But having learned that certain dreams can indeed offer us glimpses of the future—as well as reveal and unfold for us the deepest secrets of our minds and hearts—I feel free to embrace the possibility that I was blessed with a dream that encourages me to trust Gabrielle’s book, which so greatly resonates with me personally. In another lucid dream I had a couple of years after this one, I applied for the position of “Secretary to the Lord” for which I was handed an application. Not long afterward, I began writing Lucid Dreams and the Holy Spirit.