Tuesday, September 7, 2010

A Precognitive Dream


"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul
remains unawakened."    Anatole France

     Ommi was my 14-year-old Flame-point Himalayan cat.  The following dream occurred eleven days before his transition to the other side of life: 

     In this dream, I was at home and my front door was open. The screen door was closed, however.  I heard a knock at the door and went to answer it.  It was a man whose visit I was expecting - a business call of some kind.  He stood on the bottom step, about three steps from the screen door, and reached up and opened the door to come in.  I noticed Ommi sitting at the door, just waiting for an opportunity to run outside.  I quickly called out, "No, don't open the door until I get the cat!"  It was too late, and Ommi bounded out and ran away.  I ran behind him as fast as I could go.  I couldn't catch him, and I knew he was gone for good - I would never be able to find him.  While this was all taking place, I was very much aware that my other Himalayan cat Poppy, then in actuality deceased, was lying under a big shade tree in the yard contentedly grooming himself.  He had been free for a while and knew how to live in the great outdoors - both had been indoor cats.  I also knew that Poppy would look after Ommi and help him adjust to his new surroundings.  Poppy looked so serene and happy and self-confident.

     My interpretation of the dream was that because Ommi was being treated for terminal kidney failure and was in a great deal of pain, he was waiting for an opportunity to go through the "door" that would grant him his freedom from a very sick little body.  I suspected that Poppy was hovering close to him during his time of need and would be on hand to help him make his transition.

     Shortly thereafter, when it was Ommi's time to go, he positioned himself under my bed with his face toward the wall.  He was very weak and couldn't seem to maneuver himself toward me when I called him to come out.  I didn't want to force or pull him out for fear of hurting him.  I knew I needed to get Ommi to the hospital and  have help to release him from his painful little body.  Poppy and Ommi had been inseparable when Poppy was still alive.   But Poppy had died about 18 months earlier, and Ommi had almost unrelentingly grieved for him.  I suddenly heard a whisper from another dimension, "Tell him you'll take him to see Poppy."  I got down on my hands and knees again and looked at Ommi, in the same position under the bed.  Then I quietly said, "Ommi, come to me, and I'll take you to see Poppy."  Ommi's head turned so he could see me.  I repeated what I had just told him.  By then he could barely move, but he managed to drag himself out from under the bed, no longer able to stand up.  I carefully picked him up, held him close to me and told him I loved him, and then I put him on a pillow in the pet carrier.

     Ommi made his transition that evening with the assistance of the doctor at the Emergency Animal Clinic.  I sat with him there expressing my love,  saying prayers, and meditating.  I called on angels, my mother, my best friend Pat, my teacher Ann, and Poppy in other dimensions for help with Ommi's transition.  When I felt that Ommi was at peace, I said my last goodbyes.  The doctor and attendants were very compassionate, and they allowed me to stay as long as I wished.

     At home again, emotionally exhausted, totally alone and without a beloved pet for the first time in over 25 years, I fell in bed.  I was about to fall asleep when I suddenly felt Ommi's familiar jump onto the foot of my bed.  He apparently wanted me to know that his journey to the other side - to the next dimension, was successful and he was pain-free and again "full of life."  I am still occasionally aware of his nocturnal visits - Poppy's, too.