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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #850910 added June 3, 2015 at 12:45pm
Restrictions: None
Strange? Or Was It Telepathy?
Princess Megan Rose  ’s Prompt: Life is strange. Like: Did the skipper of Gilligan's Island rescue when you wandered off from your mother when you were four years old in Tucson, Arizona? Did a big bright star hang around your house two weeks before Christmas every year for years? These things happened to me. Do you have a story like these? I want to hear about them!
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If such things that happened to you ever happened to me, Megan, chances are I missed them, due to inattention or explaining those kinds of experiences to coincidences.
On the other hand, I have had a few instances of dreams with the members of my family, either just at the time they passed away or a day or so afterwards, when they told me their goodbyes. The thing is, not all of them were expected deaths.
For example, I had visited with a younger cousin even before she had become pregnant. I had always loved her, but that day we had connected more strongly than ever before.
Then I went away overseas and stayed for about a year. She had written to me about her pregnancy, and I and no one else in the family expected any mishap. She was barely thirty years of age and was healthy. Moreover, she was a nurse, took good care of herself, and she already had a six-year old daughter. It seems she put on too much weight during the pregnancy and went into sudden eclampsia during the birthing process. They just couldn’t save her.
I learned of her death about three days later from another cousin with a phone call. When I asked what the date of her passing was, it corresponded exactly with the date I had the dream.
I don’t know what to make of things like this. I am not the kind that believes in superstitions and other imagined stuff. If I saw other signs for other things, due to my doubting nature, I probably missed them, but how could I miss something like the incident I just wrote about?
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