🌕 The Full Moon Farewell
(from the series “My Mystical, Magical Life”)
By 1993, I was 33 years old. My spiritual senses were wide open, but my spiritual world was about to be rocked again.
Most people know that I grew up in foster care, but what they don’t always understand is this:
I stayed in the same home for 15 years.
My foster parents were my family. My foster mother was, in every way that mattered, another mother to me.
So when I had the dream, it shook me to my core.
🌙 The Dream in the Grave
In the dream, I found myself looking down into an open grave.
Standing at the bottom was my foster father. He looked up at me — solemn, steady, grief held in his eyes.
And in the dream, I thought instantly,
“Oh no… Mom is dead.”
I woke up with my heart pounding.
The air felt thick with knowing.
The next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I called my foster parents’ house immediately.
My sister-in-law answered the phone. Her voice trembled as she said the words that echoed the dream perfectly:
“Janet… if you want to see Mom alive, you’d better get here quick.”
My breath left my body.
Another premonition — just like the angel and my mother’s passing years before.
🚆 The Train Under the Full Moon
I called my little sister, and together we made a plan.
She lived in Oregon. I lived in Washington. We decided to meet there and drive the rest of the way to Northern California.
I boarded a southbound train that night. The carriage was dim and quiet, rocking gently through the darkness, when I turned toward the window.
Outside, the full moon hung in the sky — bright, patient, watching.
As I stared at it, my foster mother’s face suddenly appeared…
right there, on the moon’s glowing surface.
And in that instant, I knew.
She was already gone.
It wasn’t a thought — it was a truth that washed over me like water.
A knowing that settled into my bones.
When I arrived in Oregon, my sister met me at the station, tears in her eyes.
“She’s gone,” she said.
I already knew.
Still, we drove to California, wanting to be with the family, to honor her, to witness her departure together.
🌅 The Moonset and the Sunrise
Early the next morning, as we crossed Lake Shasta, the world gave me a vision I will never forget.
On the western horizon, the full moon was setting, its white light dissolving into the soft blues of dawn.
At the same moment, the sun was rising in the east, painting the sky with gold and pink.
Moon descending.
Sun ascending.
A perfect balance.
Life and death.
Ending and beginning.
A farewell… and a blessing.
It was the most beautiful, life-affirming sight I had ever seen — a cosmic promise that nothing truly ends.
Spirit was showing me, in the language of the sky, that my foster mother had slipped from one light into another.
Her passing was heartbreaking, yes…
But it was also an initiation into the deeper truth of my life:
Love doesn’t depart.
It transforms.
It rises and sets…
and rises again.
Have you ever dreamed of someone who was going to die, and then it happened? Share your experience here.
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