I slept past 2:00 a.m. I couldn't sleep earlier because I had a light nap before dinner. After a few minutes of finally being able to doze off, I remembered dreaming I was in a hospital full of people wanting to have plastic surgery. Then suddenly I was in my bedroom, so I thought that I woke up. I was lying on the bed, I could see Carlo's bed beside mine, the desks, the shelves, so this couldn't be a dream anymore, I thought. Then I saw a man wearing a white cotton shirt (and was he wearing a jacket?) and faded jeans walk up to me, his hands extended. I reached out for his hands and clasped both of them, and tried to fight him away from me. I swear I felt the man's rough palms for real. He wasn't that strong, because I was able to wrestle him. I didn't want to look at his face, afraid of what he might have looked like. I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my mouth. I tried to move my feet, and put them on the floor, but they were paralyzed. My hands were the only ones strong enough to ward off my attacker. I closed my eyes and I was shouting at him in my mind, "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!"
Then I remembered my departed Lola telling me when I was a child to pray the Apostle's Creed every time I feel there was something strange around me. I started my litany of "I believe in God...", but I seemed to keep forgetting the words. When I finally was able to get past the 3 Hail Mary's, everything felt blank, and I felt asleep. I was woken up by the power outage, which I just brushed off.
I wasn't actually afraid or anything. I wasn't sure if it had been real or just a dream then, but I wasn't trembling or cowering in fear. Whatever it was, I knew everything was over. Then I prayed the rosary until I fell asleep.
Please, Jesus, don't let him come near me again.
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| 10commandments4kids.com |
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There was a prequel to this story that I think was somewhat connected to my frightening dream.
Friday last week, a group of five old people approached me after I just parked my car at our garage. They said they lived in the village, and they were asking if I was interested to open up my doors to them for a night of prayer to Mama Mary. One of them introduced herself as Rosario (how coincidental!), and said she was an emissary to spread our Lady's messages. She claimed she could see visions of Mama Mary and receive messages from her. I wasn't that skeptical nor wasn't that too believing. But I said yes to them, just the same. Maybe because I somehow miss the prayerful social activities I had when I was young at my childhood home in 2nd Reyville, Las Pinas. Or maybe because I miss praying the rosary with my family every night (we used to do that when we were still living together). So we set the schedule on Wednesday, February 1, at 6:00 p.m., thinking that it was also the birthday of the Youngest, so I might as well pray for him.
And then the nightmare came last Tuesday, a day before they were supposed to pray here at the house. I was thinking, was it a warning to me from the dark side? It was the first time that a dream like that so lifelike happened to me. Yes, when I was younger, I used to have bouts of nightmares when I was sick. But it was only now that a scary attack happened in my adult life.
So Wednesday came. Before we prayed, I recounted to them my experience the night before. Tita Rosario said it was real, it was not a dream, and it was the D who didn't want their group to be accepted in our household. She offered to bring a priest on Saturday to bless the house.
While we were praying, I felt very peaceful. I cried a little bit while singing 'Come Holy Spirit' (I don't know why I always cry to that song!). We prayed the rosary, prayed the Divine Mercy Prayer, read from the messages of Mama Mary to Fatima, listened to Mama Mary's taped messages through Tita Rosario, and had the light snack I prepared for them. We started at 6:00 and ended up at 8:30. We wouldn' t have finished, if not for one my visitors, a 90-year-old man, who had to go. The group invited me for a Cenacle meeting on Friday, and I said yes.
I couldn't say no to Mama Mary's invitation, could I?
Here is an artist's rendition of how Tita Rosario's vision of Mama Mary looks like. (I took a photo of the framed picture they were carrying)
Believe it. Or not.
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