On the 15th of the Seventh month, my sister had a dream. In her dream, she saw my mum sitting in her room surrounded by people whom my sister could not recognize. She was chatting happily with them. Oddly, she approached her and asked whether she has received all the items we "burned" to her, she nodded but there were no reaction when she asks about the subsequent offerings. That was when she woke up. Naturally, I am upset after she told me what happened and was pretty much pre-occupied by it the rest of the week. I have also heard that offering do not reached the loved ones after the first time. Although I see myself as the practical type. I can't help but think what we could have done wrong. It is rather disheartening to know that I could not give her a better life when she was around and in death, I could NOT do a single thing for her.
Some of you may be thinking that at this age, why am I so “old-fashioned” and superstitious. I cannot really say but one thing I know for sure is that I feel closer to my roots this way. That is what that defines me, as a Chinese. We are losing a rich part of our culture as time goes by and it is really a shame. I got to find ways to educate my son on our culture and the important values that come with it. What the younger generation are missing out they will never know.
I am going off topic. Going back to the main subject. Last night was the last days of the Seventh month, and she finally came to me. I knew that she did. I wasted no time in committing this to my memory the moment I woke up because the nature of dreams is such that they fade away before we realize. In fact I am scribbling this on my note pad as I walk to the bus stop for work...
I immediately realized that I was on a trip with my family. Somehow I find the landscape changed. It has become more rural, or you can say more 70s. We went to a park with a really oldish looking entrance with three Chinese characters displayed at the top. I reckoned that this could be one of those popular places to hang out in the in the old days. I probably have been there myself at so young an age that I have no recollections at all. After that, we walked down this weather-beaten path and wandered into this little "Kampung" (village) area. In the distance I could made out a couple and oddly they seemed to be the only people around. I could still vaguely remember my son squatting at the side and watching the rapid flow of water in the drain. The water was surprisingly as clear as the sky and the place was bright and cool. I felt good and rejuvenated as I took in the surrounding scene. All this while, I knew that the rest of my family was standing nearby. Strange enough, I can “feel” another very familiar presence among our midst but could not pinpoint it.
All of a sudden, I was whisked back to my old home. And with uncanny similarity, THERE was a group of people but this time I was chatting with one of them in my own room. These folks seem very familiar to me and at the same time foreign. It is as if I know them but don’t know them. I know it sounds kind of weird but that was how I felt. I remembered gesturing that I am going out and as I turned around after locking the gate, there she was again. As peaceful as I last seen her. There was a hint of understanding in her eyes. And as hard as I try, I could not reach out to her.
And cruelly, I was jolted wide awake by the alarm bell in the shape of my son's foot (in my face). Why do kids fidget so much when they sleep nowadays!?
Everyday I yields to see her one more time and was only granted a split second, sigh.. Nevertheless, I am grateful to see her in the best of circumstances. For that, I am content and life seems a bit brighter today :)