Dream escape: Cozumel

After her mother passed away, Cheri Bunch felt lonely and discouraged—until a dream gave her the chance to connect with her mom one last time

It was April 6, 1996, my birthday. I had just gotten out of a miserable relationship and was also recuperating from hand surgery. Needless to say, I was in desperate need of some encouraging words. So, when Mama called to wish me a happy birthday, it really made my day.

We talked for a couple of hours that day, and I was thrilled to learn that she was planning to make the two-and-a-half-hour trek down from Washington to see me before the month was over. I had no idea that phone call would be the last time I would hear her voice.

The next call I got from home was to inform me that Mama had had a massive cerebral hemorrhage, and they were waiting for me to come and say goodbye before they turned off the machines. I rushed to her side and insisted on holding her hand when they turned them off. If she changed her mind at the last minute, she could give a little squeeze, and we would turn everything back on. But this, too, was not meant to be.

I came into a little money later that year and bought my first house. Moving ten years of accumulation in my pick-up truck was an indescribable experience. We must have made that thirty-five-mile round trip at least fifty times that day. I was exhausted by the time the move was over.

As I settled into my little house, I started to wonder what I had done.

I had bought this house and moved everything I had into it, but I didn’t even have a job. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it.

I collapsed into my recliner thinking that I would just take a breather, a little break to organize my thoughts before I got back to the task of finishing the move. Suddenly, I could no longer keep my eyes open. I never nap during the day, especially when there’s so much to do.

I just remember wishing, as I dozed off, that I could find Mama’s recipe for banana bread. I knew that it was in one of the hundreds of moving boxes that surrounded me and filled most of the rooms in my little house. A hot cup of tea and a warm slice of Mama’s banana bread would be just perfect right now, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep. But judging by the sea of boxes, it would likely be quite a while before the aroma of banana bread would be wafting through my house.

The next thing I remember, I found myself entering a darkened room. I could see the soft glow of a light that seemed to be coming from one corner. I stepped from the alcove and started to move slowly toward the center of the room.

The first thing that came into view was a huge, ornately decorated porcelain flowerpot that held an enormous plant in full bloom. As I got closer, I could clearly see that the foliage of this plant looked exactly like a big bouquet of peacock feathers. They were shimmering softly in the hazy glow.

Then a movement in the far corner of the room caught my eye. The glow slowly started to get brighter and brighter, and then there she was. It was Mama!

She was dressed in a flowing white gown, and there were purple flowers in her hair. She was surrounded by a golden aura, and when I saw her face, an overwhelming feeling of calm swept over me.

She was smiling, and I smiled back. I asked her, “Mama, what kind of plant is that? It’s beautiful!”

She didn’t say a word. She just smiled at me and reached out her hand. I took it in mine, and another wave of calm rushed through me.

When I woke up only minutes later, my arm was extended out in front of me, and my hand was in the exact position it would have been if I had been holding someone’s hand. Then, without the slightest hesitation, I got up, made my way through the endless stacks of boxes, and found myself in the back bedroom. I walked up to a stack of boxes in the back of the room and removed the top four boxes. Reaching into the fifth box, I lifted up about half of the

“I just remember wishing, as I dozed off, that I could find Mama’s recipe for banana bread”

contents, and there, in the middle of the box, was Mama’s handwritten recipe for banana bread.

There is only one way that could’ve happened. Some might say it was an unexplained coincidence. I say it was no less than angelic guidance.

Since that day, I try to pay attention to all the little, everyday miracles that happen in my life— especially the ones that seem to give me a gentle nudge toward the discovery of some astounding epiphany. It gives me great comfort to know that Mama still seems to know exactly what I need. She is still in my life, pointing me in the right direction whenever necessary.