Not long after my mother’s funeral, I had a dream that has stayed with me ever since. In it, she was on a beach, sitting at the edge of a lounger, with the waves softly kissing the shore. She looked radiant—young in a way I could never remember her being, glowing with health and serenity. But there was no doubt in my mind that it was her.

She motioned for me to come to her. Her hand, graceful and familiar, beckoned me with a gesture that felt so natural, so maternal. Her expression was happy, excited to see me, and full of love. I could hear her voice in my heart as clearly as if she were speaking: It’s okay. Come to me.

But I didn’t go. Something held me back—perhaps hesitation because she didn’t look like herself or at least not the way she looked when she passed. I woke up feeling conflicted, torn between the comfort of seeing her again and the guilt of not moving toward her when she called.

Later, I shared the dream with my father. I remember his reaction vividly—how his eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of concern and knowing passing over his face. “Good thing you didn’t go,” he said.

I was confused. “Why do you say that?”

He hesitated for a moment, as though carefully choosing his words. Then he said something that sent shivers down my spine: “They say if you go with them, you die.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. Until then, I had been wrestling with guilt for not going to her, for not answering her call. But my father’s words shifted something within me. If what he said was true, then my mother—my kind, selfless, loving mother—was sending me a message. She was showing me that she was at peace, that she was okay. She would never have beckoned me to follow her unless she was in a better place. His explanation resonated deeply. It was as if he had handed me a piece of a puzzle I didn’t even realize I was trying to solve.

The Layers of Meaning in a Dream

Dreams like this one are profoundly layered. They aren’t just random firings of the brain—they are woven with the threads of memory, emotion, and perhaps even something more mysterious. Psychologists like Carl Jung might call this dream a visit from the “collective unconscious,” a space where archetypes and symbols connect us to something greater than ourselves. In grief, these dreams can be profoundly healing, offering us a bridge between the physical absence of our loved one and their enduring presence in our hearts.

From a spiritual perspective, many cultures believe that dreams of the deceased hold special meaning. Some say they are messages, others believe they are a way for the soul to say goodbye, and still others think they serve as a reminder of the love that never dies. The interpretation my father offered—that following her would have meant crossing into death—is a common thread in folklore and spiritual traditions. It’s as though the dream world is a liminal space, a threshold between worlds, and our choices within it have weight.

Read More: Dreams as a Bridge to the Spirit Realm: Beliefs and Perspectives Across Cultures

A Mother’s Love Beyond Death

When I reflect on this dream now, I see it as an expression of my mother’s love. She called me to her not because she wanted to take me away, but because she wanted me to know that she was okay. Her youthfulness in the dream felt like a sign—perhaps a symbol of her soul’s freedom, untethered from the struggles of her earthly life.

Wholeness in the Wounds

Healing is not a process of erasure; it’s an act of integration. Our wounds, whether born of grief, trauma, or personal struggle, are not meant to be hidden or forgotten. They are markers of where we’ve been, shaping who we are and how we see the world. True healing comes not from letting go but from learning to live with our wounds, to honor their presence as part of our wholeness.

When we embrace our pain as part of our story, we reclaim our power. The cracks in our hearts are not signs of weakness but spaces where light can enter. It’s in these vulnerable places that transformation takes root. Healing invites us to sit with our scars, to understand their lessons, and to grow stronger not in spite of them, but because of them. The journey isn’t about becoming the person we were before; it’s about becoming someone new—someone who carries their experiences with grace, resilience, and a deepened understanding of life’s interconnected beauty.

Thanks for reading. Stay curious.

April

Cognitive Psycho