God’s gifts can appear to us in cherished dreams

By Charlotte Phillips
NOLA Catholic Parenting

The night my aunt died, I had a dream so vivid I can still remember it in great detail.

In my dream, she was standing, joyfully, with a suitcase in her hand. This was huge because bone cancer had broken her hip and she was unable to stand on her own. She was surrounded by a bright and bold light as she sang parts of John Denver’s “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane”: “All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go. I’m standing here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh babe, I hate to go…”

Even at 15 years old, the symbolism in the lyrics made sense. Her bags were packed to spend eternity with God. She was not afraid of dying, she passed away in her sleep, not waking me up to say goodbye. I believe that while she was not afraid of death, she did hate to go at only 40-something years old.

I have continued to dream vividly of her since then. Anytime I dream of her, I wake up happy, but it took a retreat over 20 years later for me to realize what a beautiful gift God has given me in these dreams. 

During my retreat, I continued to reflect on this grace-filled moment. Still filled with gratitude, doubt started to creep in as my thoughts began to swirl.

“Can a dream really be an experience of God? How can I be sure that it is God when it’s my subconscious? Joseph experienced God in his dreams, surely, I can as well? Am I to compare myself to Joseph?  God can’t possibly come to me the same way he did to Joseph!”

In hindsight, I know those thoughts of doubt were not of God, but from the false spirit. We are all beloved children of God, and we are all worthy of experiencing God in a multitude of different ways, including our dreams. Our loving God made it abundantly clear that yes, I can experience God in my dreams.

A few nights after that retreat, I had another vivid dream. This time the dream was about my dad, who had unexpectedly passed away almost two years earlier. In my dream, I remember sitting at a table outside. The sun shone down on the table, illuminating the space where we were seated. I don’t know if my dad could see me. I remember being filled with immense joy at simply being able to see his face and hear his voice again as he smiled and talked to others I could not see. 

After a few moments, I wondered if I reached my hand out, if I would be able to touch his. Hesitantly, I reached one finger out and touched the tip of his finger. As soon as I could feel his finger with mine, I saw a bright light and I woke up, gasping as I sat up, not aware of the dream I had just experienced.

When I remembered dreaming about my dad the next day, tears of overwhelming awe fell down my cheeks. “Thank you, God” were the only words I could muster in my attempt at prayerful gratitude for experiencing God in such a tangible way. 

Like the dream about my aunt, I can close my eyes and still see my dad’s smile and hear his voice with such clarity. I haven’t had a dream about my father since, but I am so grateful to God for giving me a moment with him. 

After revisiting that moment and spending time with it in prayer, I realized the dream of my dad and the dream the night my aunt passed away were more than gifts from God; they were an encounter with the divine.

Humility and deep gratitude were two of the graces God gifted me during that time in prayer. How fortunate are we to be able to experience our all-loving and all-knowing God in such a tangible way, even when we are asleep?

Pondering this moment, I wondered if there are other ways God makes himself known to us that we may sometimes miss. Sure, if I take the time to reflect on my day, I can remember and thank God for the gift of a warm breeze or the smile on my son’s face as he gives me a handful of flowers he picked at the park. These moments, while certainly gifts from God, are more than just gifts. They, too, are moments with the divine. If God can make his presence known to us in the simple, ordinary moments of our daily lives, he can also make his presence known to us in our dreams.

We just have to take the time to notice.

Charlotte Phillips lives in New Orleans with her family. She has a bachelor of arts in theology and a master of pastoral studies from Spring Hill College and currently teaching ninth-grade religion at Ursuline Academy. She enjoys Ignatian Spirituality.