Explaining the Unexplainable

Incredible story of how a nightmare saved my mom’s life. Reflection on dreams, unexplainable events, and gratitude.

Dream Interpretation

Like thoughts, there are no great explanations as to where dreams come from.

• The subconscious mind attempting to store information and make sense of life?

• Illustrations of the soul?

• Portals into other dimensions?

• Messages from God?

What the brain does and where the brain goes during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep is remarkable. The majority of our dreams occur during this unique stage of slumber which accounts for about 25% of our total sleep time. We know REM is important for learning and memory. We also know dreams can sometimes be interpreted to provide opportunities for self-understanding.

How do we analyze dreams that happen at perfect times to alter or even save a life?

Probability theory is a mathematical system that attempts to analyze the chance of random phenomena. In a world with over eight billion people, full of stories that blend elements of fiction and nonfiction throughout known history, almost anything is possible.

There are countless unexplainable stories.

Let me share one of mine with you now…

---

Life-Saving Nightmare

I heard a noise coming from the hallway.

It didn’t sound right.

Knowing my mom was on the opposite side of the house, I ignored it.

Another creak.

Who is that?

The pace was off.

As I opened my door and peered down the long hallway, I could make out a shadow against the closet door.

Another creak.

The shadow increased in size.

As the figure came into plain sight, my body froze.

An elderly woman with white eyes and an oversized nose was carrying an axe and slowly making her way to the front of my house.

She wanted to kill my mother.

As I tried to scream, nothing came out of my mouth and my feet remained glued to the floor.

I helplessly watched this witch proceed out of sight.

There wasn’t a thing I could do to save my mom…

---

Real Life Nightmare

I woke up sweating, terrified and needing to find my mom.

It was wintertime and I was four and a half years old. It’s wild to think how vivid this dream of mine still is but it’s also tied to one of my first core memories.

I crawled out of bed and crept across the long hallway that I couldn’t resist looking down to ensure the witch wasn’t there.

Darkness.

As I entered my parent’s room, I heard the water in their bed moving.

(Yes, we were one of those midwestern families who rocked waterbeds in the 80s/early 90s. Don’t judge!)

I walked from the foot of the bed along the side where my mom always slept.

Placing my hand on the bed and my mom’s arm, I could feel the movement.

Was the water moving my mom or was she the one causing the motion?

My mom was always a light sleeper and would immediately wake up to the first touch or sound coming from one of her children. I leaned over to where I approximated her head would be and said her name a few times quietly to not wake my dad.

No response.

Something wasn’t right.

My parent’s bathroom was directly behind me on my mom’s side of the bed. I slowly opened the door just enough to reach the light switch and flipped it on.

Like a candle in the room, my mom’s body became dimly illuminated. In what would normally be a peaceful amount of light to snuggle into bed with, the horror in my body intensified as I realized my mom was vigorously shaking. It looked like an invisible force had her pinned to the bed and was electrocuting her while smothering her face down in a pillow.

I grabbed her shoulder and started shouting her name.

This awoke my father as he frantically told me to turn on the lights.

While the room became incredibly bright, my dad was rolling my mom over onto his lap. The shaking suddenly stopped as her head rolled to face me. The beautiful woman I was accustomed to seeing isn’t who was looking at me. Instead, I saw completely white eyes and a contorted face as blood shot out of her mouth onto bed.

I produced a scream I didn’t know I was capable of.

Blood continued to pour out of her mouth as my dad insisted I call 9-1-1.

This was in 1990 and the telephone next to my parent’s bed was a rotary phone. For the youngsters, this means I needed to put my finger in each corresponding number’s hole and correctly rotate the dial to the necessary position to complete a call. Easy task when relaxed and experienced, overwhelming when you think your mom is possessed by a witch trying to kill her.

In my own shock, I wasn’t able to execute the fine motor task as I pulled the phone over to my dad to make the emergency call.

Aside from my father continuing to hold my mom while I stayed as close as possible attempting to manage the panic in my body, I don’t remember much between the call and the first responders arriving.

What I clearly remember is my dad’s next request after the doorbell rang, “I need to stay with your mom. Go let them in.”

You would think this task wouldn’t have produced the most amount of fear I had felt that evening, but my nightmare was still fresh in my head.

I needed to go into the darkness toward the witch.

Like my dream, my body felt like it didn’t want to work despite my mind telling it to move.

I managed a few steps as my dad told me I needed to hurry.

The hallway felt a mile long as I hurriedly walked toward what I thought was my own demise.

As if the witch was waiting for me around the corner, each step toward the end felt more suspenseful.

While continuing to cry, I held my breath and bolted toward our front door.

Instead of a witch, I saw flashing lights outside and helpers ready to save my mom.

---

Aftermath

We learned my mom suffered a grand mal seizure due a rare condition that is now well-managed.

The blood pouring out of my mother’s mouth was caused from biting her own tongue during the convulsions.

The doctor told her that people can die from choking on their own blood or suffocating in pillows when face down in these uncommon cases.

The dream that led me into her room at that exact time likely saved her life.

Picture of the two of us shortly after I commissioned into the Navy.

---

Life Lesson

Belief systems formulate the filter we see the world and attempt to understand events through.

There is no certain way to describe unexplainable events.

So much of this existence is beyond explanation.

The more information we collectively gather, the less we seem to objectively understand.

How can I make sense of the random dream that made me go to my mom at the exact time she needed help?

No need. I’m beyond grateful for that nightmare regardless.

Random thought and dream explanation doesn’t have to be fully understood.

Messages and opportunities come to us for no apparent reason at various points in our life.

Probability theory helps us understand the rarity of these occurrences.

We are nowhere near, however, to understanding the why.

Whether or not coincidences are probable, anything is possible.

There is certainly something greater.

We are all fortunate for this existence.

Why not make the most of it while we can.

People break down into two groups. When they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is a fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?

- M. Night Shyamalan