Last night I dreamt of Mummy again. It was a brief scene—a dream within a dream—and it opened with a glass vase perched atop a round mahogany table in a church foyer.

The vase contained a bunch of delicate pink and white roses. I was pleased to see them, and heartbroken to learn that they were for my sisters and I to lay on our mother’s coffin.

I picked out a rose and stepped inside the church sanctuary, where Mummy’s memorial service was being held. My sisters and I were about to take our seats when all of a sudden, Mummy herself appeared in the front!

She was wearing a simple grey coat, and her face was bathed in the light falling from above the pulpit, though she was not standing on the pulpit but in front of it, below. And although her face glowed, her expression was distant. She looked past us all as she stood there and spoke briefly.

I wanted to rush forward and hold her, but something kept me rooted in my spot. All I could do was look at her. When I woke up, I realized that my physical life was constraining me. The chasm between us will remain until I cross it myself someday.

Apart from the fact that I’ll never see Mummy again in this life, what saddens me about the dream is that I could not hear what she said. A woman of few words in life (unless talking about the grandkids or her medical work), she didn’t say much in my dream, but I wish I’d heard it so I could hold on to it.

Since I can’t hold on to her.

As I sat in the pew staring at Mummy’s beautiful, luminous face, I woke up with that old, familiar stab of grief. I rolled over and went back to sleep, hoping to dream of her again, but I never did.

Instead, in the second scene, I saw my older sister and her family bringing a new table into their patio. It was stylish and modern, but seemed more appropriate for a restaurant or cafe. Shortly after waking up, I saw that my sister had texted me a photo of her family at a restaurant, having their last supper of 2024!

As I lay awake mulling over the dream, the Holy Spirit reminded me of how I’d gone to bed last night feeling a deep grief for Mummy. I was unable to pull myself out of it, for “my soul refused to be comforted (Psalm 77:2). But my heavenly Father, who loved me long before I was born (let alone born again), found a way to comfort me anyway, by sending me that dream.

After reminding me of my heavenly Father’s love, the Holy Spirit showed me that both of the scenes described above are symbolic. One represents the old, the other the new.

The scene where I saw my mother symbolizes 2024, which is in its last hours here in LA. Just as Mummy will never return to this life, so also 2024 will never come back. Its candle is about to be snuffed out forever.

And the scene where I saw my sister bringing in her new patio furniture represents 2025. The new year has already dawned where both of my sisters live, and it is about to dawn in my part of the world. With it come new possibilities and new opportunities. Who knows, maybe even new furniture.

The most significant part of my dream of Mummy, at least for me, was the golden glow on her face as she stood in front of the pulpit, looking past us into the distance. You see, on Mummy’s birthday this year, June 12, I celebrated my golden birthday in Christ! I share that June 1974 story in my most read post, published on her first birthday after she left us on May 5, 2021.

The golden glow on Mummy’s face in my dream is a fitting picture of my fifty years as a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. It hasn’t been perfect, because I’m not, but it’s been glorious, because His grace has always been available and sufficient.

My most momentous experience of 2024 took place on the morning of my golden spiritual birthday, June 12. It’s a very special story and deserves its own post, so I’ll save it for another time. Meanwhile, let me close this post, and this year, by wishing you a very blessed new year and with this prayer based on one of my favorite passages of Scripture.

(c)2024 by Sharon Arpana Edwards. All rights reserved.