The phone rang three times before a faint voice came through. “Hello,” quietly answered my mom. I didn’t bother to check to see what time it was in America. I should have though. On several occasions in the past I made this exact same call at this exact same time, yet for some reason I can never remember the time difference. It was 9:30 A.M. here in Seoul, and I had hoped this call wasn’t forcing my mom to walk on her arthritic knees to the middle room where the phone was. By all means what I had to tell her was a matter of life and death, however, the last thing I wanted to do was disrupt my mother and her deep slumber.
“Hey mom, are you there?” I anxiously asked. The distance between Asia and America is comically far. It’s a little over ten thousand kilometers from Seoul to Phoenix. Occasionally, it takes a few seconds for my voice to travel through thousands of miles of sound waves. It’s only natural to expect a little lag before the person on the other end is able to hear and comprehend what I said.
“Mom can you hear me,” I asked again this time a little concerned by the lack of sound on the other end. “Yes, sweetie I can hear you fine,” she replied joyfully, but weary.
“How are you darling?” my mother asked. “Deep sigh, I’m doing fine. I just woke up and really needed to call you,” I said.
My aunt was recently diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctors gave her 6 months to live. When a person is diagnosed with a disease such as cancer, an entire life metamorphosis must happen. One’s diet must change. He or she now needs to incorporate exercise in their daily life if they didn’t in the past. If severe, various difficult, invasive treatments must commence. Ultimately, a strengthening of the mind, body and soul needs to take place in order to become a survivor.
My mother, or Janis as her sister says, was and still is a person who believes in spiritual energy. With a strong spirit even a doctors diagnosis can be overcome. “Speak what you want to achieve and it’s done,” she would always say. So the minute my mother found out that her sister had been given 6 months to live, she boarded a plane and headed back East. Her plane was bound for Greenville, South Carolina. Unknowingly, it was also bound for her own silent destruction.
“Can you talk right now mom?” I asked in an overwhelmed voice. “Yes, I have a few minutes. Is everything okay, Ade?” she asked.
I took another deep breath. A breath so deep that I felt the air pass through my lungs and work it’s way into my blood stream delivering fresh oxygen. I had goosebumps everywhere to the point where I thought I was experiencing an allergic reaction. I didn’t know where to start or how to deliver my message to my mom. Twenty minutes ago I woke up from a dream that still had so much clarity. I thought dream recollection was completely lost after ten minutes? Maybe Freud and the other Oneirologists were wrong. Maybe my brain wanted me to remember this traumatic experience and believed that I was emotionally equipped to handle it.
“Mom, I think you need to come home,” I said. “Huh, why do you say that?” my mom asked. “I don’t know if this is a sign from God or if I am just having a dark dream. But I believe in dreams and the messages that are transmitted through them,” I explained to my mom. “I think you’ve done all you can over there. The dream I had about you last night scared me and strangely, it’s still so fresh in my mind,” I go on to say.
“What was the dream about?” my mother asks. “Can I tell you right now?” I ask. “I’m all ears,” she says.