Stormie Clay - Seeds of the Heart

When Dreams and Visions Become Reality

As far back as I can remember, at a very young age, I would go to bed and have dreams. I do understand that everybody has dreams. I can only say that most of mine came true. There were times during the night I would have two or three dreams one right after another. Also, there would be times I would be wide awake, and images of people and places would flash like a camera before my natural eyes. Upon awakening, some of the dreams would confuse me. I would go to my mother and ask her for the meaning. Most of the time, her only response and reply was that everybody has dreams. Then I would walk away, feeling dissatisfied. The more I prayed, my understanding of dreams became more clear.

My spiritual journey of dreams began during the year of 1960. I would go to sleep and dream the same dream, standing in front of a white house with a white picket fence, staring at the front door, but I would never open the gate to enter. Once again, as before, I would go to my mother, only to hear the same answer.

I couldnt go to anyone else because my mother was the only person I lived with. I never knew who my dad was nor had I ever met him. My mother never talked about him. Even when I would ask, she just brushed me off.

During the summer of 1967, all the family members were notified to come home to Louisiana. Grandma was sick. The doctor said that she could die soon, so we packed our suitcases and boarded the train from Kansas City, Missouri, to Grandmas house.

By 6:00 p.m. that Friday, all of the family members had arrived at my grandmas five-bedroom house. It was now occupied with six adults and about twenty children screaming and running around everywhere. Two of my favorite aunties decided to go to the store to pick up some food for dinner. I was surprised that they only asked me to go with them and didnt ask any of the other children to go. I really felt good about it, being next to the oldest child there.

After all the shopping, we got into the car. One thing I thought was strange is that we were not going down the same street that we had taken to get to the store. Out of curiosity, I asked one of my aunts, Where are we going?

Her reply, Dont worry about it. Were going to visit a close friend of ours.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There, at that very moment, the car stopped right in front of a white house with a picket fence. Both of my aunts got out of the car. Come on and get out, Naomi. We just want you to meet your real dad for the first time.

Right then, flashbacks of all the dreams I had about a white house truly had become a reality. At that very moment, I started walking through the gate.

The Vietnam war had already begun. A classmate of mine, one of her brothers got drafted at the age of nineteen. He had been scheduled to be shipped out that Sunday, headed to California for basic training. That Friday, his sister invited me to a going away party. I went but deep within, I felt very sad. All I could hear was an inner voice saying, Hes never coming back .

Even though everybody was happy, some were eating, some dancing, others were drinking, I just couldnt get into the mood, and the weirdest thing is the whole time, the way that I was feeling and the voice that I kept on hearing, I couldnt even tell his family. It was like I wanted to say something, but I couldnt open my mouth to say anything. In a way, I felt guilty.

He left Kansas City on an airplane early Sunday morning, so I was told by his sister. Early Monday morning, instead of getting ready to go school, I began crying. Tears just flowed down my face. I couldnt stop. My mother came into the bedroom and asked me what was wrong, if I were sick. All I could do was shake my head and say, No, Mama, something bad is about to happen.

She replied, What is going to happen?

I cant say, Mama, I cant say.

From that Monday to Saturday, day and night, I cried, didnt eat, or drink. I awoke each morning crying and went to bed crying.

On Thursday, Mother came into my bedroom and said that if I was still crying, she was going to take me to the doctor and have me sent to a mental hospital.

That Saturday night, I went to sleep and dreamt I was on a battlefield with all kinds of ammunition flying over my head, flames of fire were all around me, I saw men everywhere, running and hiding, trying to avoid getting hurt. Then all of a sudden, I heard an explosion, like a bomb, light and fire so bright. I then jumped up out of bed and ran through the house to the front door. The light was so bright I even ran out the front door to see where the noise came from and looked toward the east in the back of our house because in the past, airplanes had been known to crash in the Fairfax district near the airport.

I came back into the house and looked at the clock on the living room wall, and it was three oclock in the morning. I went back into the bedroom.

Sunday, I stopped crying around seven oclock. I heard a woman screaming and hollering, knocking on the front door of our house. Mama said, Hurry up and open the door. See who that is this time of the morning. Sounds like theyre hurt.

When I opened the door, my friends grandmother nearly fell to the floor on her face. She had a Western Union letter in her hand. She could barely speak. My mother took the letter and read it out loud. It stated that the grandson, while he was in Vietnam, had stepped on a land mine and was blown all to pieces. Then my mother started crying too.

The army shipped his body back to the States. It was then transferred to Louisiana to be laid to rest. My friend came over and invited me to go with the family to the funeral. I refused to go. I told her that I had already mourned all week. I kissed her and gave her a hug.

The family brought pictures of him. The casket was bronze with a piece of glass at the top. I could see his head. The family said that his head was the only part of his body they could find and put in the casket. The rest was in pieces. The military army serviceman gave his mother a United States flag and a ten-thousand-dollar check. What good did all that mean when you had lost a son to a war he didnt understand? Most of all, sadly, his life was cut so short.

June 1, 1993. I awoke early that Monday morning and sat on the side of the bed. Like a camera, I saw a cemetery and three black funeral cars. I took both of my hands and wiped my face, yet I still saw the same visions going on now for about three weeks. I smelled the scent of flowers and didnt have even one plant in my home because my cat would chew on them and make itself sick. I heard the sound of an organ playing two gospel hymns: What a Friend We Have in Jesus and Nobodys Fault but Mine.

Monday, July 1, 1993. I was awoken that morning with cold chills all over my body. Feeling sad, I called my children and told them to pray and told them that someone in the family was going to die, but at that present moment, I couldnt say who. All that day, I couldnt do any housework. All I could do was pray and ask the Lord who He was about to take from our family. I lay down on the couch in my living room, still restless. I fell asleep.

Around four-thirty, a knock on the door. It was one of my younger sisters. As I sat straight up on the couch to look at her, I could not see her face. I could see like a shadow of her from her head to her feet, but I could not see her face. I wiped my eyes, thinking I could have a better sight, and yet, there stood my sister right in front of me. We talked about cooking and getting together at the lake for the Fourth of July, then she left and said that she would see me later.

That Thursday, at 11:00 p.m., I received a phone call from my nephew saying that my sister and her boyfriend had been shot and that the both of them were dead. At that very moment, all I could do was take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and call the police department and tell them what had happened.