Mar. 24, 2017

Dreams

When I was a young girl, my mother gifted me with a little rubber Qupee Doll (the brand name of the doll). It really wasn’t a doll I would play with as it didn’t have the same attractive features as Betsy Wetsy. Even my Barbie collection had tons of clothes and a car. This doll had nothing. Still, I accepted it graciously.

My mother, sensing my confusion at the gift, explained, “I want you to give that to your little girl when you grow up and have babies.”

It was the last gift she ever gave me before she became too sick to live at home anymore. However, I kept the doll with me, always.

Years later when I did become pregnant, I remembered the doll. My mother had passed away when I was only five months pregnant and it was my first baby. Although, we did not have the diagnostic testing we have today that gives away the gender of the child, I still ‘knew’ I was having a little girl.

I had just seen the doll in the spare bedroom only a few days earlier. She was in a big moving box. I went into the room that would become my nursery and pulled everything out of the closet, including the box wherein I had seen the doll. It was the only box in there. When I couldn’t find it the first two tries, I methodically took one piece out of the box at a time as I continued to search. Then, I put everything back into the box one piece at a time in case I missed it pulling it out of the box for the third time - still, nothing.

That night, I had a very vivid dream. I was strolling through a graveyard like I was taking a Sunday night walk in a park. I saw someone, whom I did not know, motion for me to come over to the funeral that was taking place. As I neared the gravesite, I recognized my siblings. Everyone was just standing around looking down into a very large hole. It turned out to be a grave that was about twenty feet deep, much deeper than it needed to be.

In the middle of the deep grave stood my mother wearing a black dress and she was talking to my brother, Karl. In life, my mother had her leg amputated, but in the dream, she had both legs. To the left of her was a ladder. I instinctively knew Karl had carried my mother down the ladder.

As my brother turned and began to climb the ladder out of the grave, I started to yell because he was leaving our mother behind. I looked up to my other brothers and sister, but they were just standing there letting this happen.

When I moved to go toward the ladder, my mother looked up at me and instructed kindly, “It’s alright, Michelle. Stop crying and don’t forget about this.”

Her arm swung up toward me and what she tossed landed at my feet. It was the Qupee Doll that she had given me so many years earlier. The same one I had spent hours searching for the day before.

The following morning after the dream, I jumped up out of bed, determined to find that doll. If I had to completely dismantle my nursery and rebuild it, I would. I decided to begin with the moving box once more. I opened the closet door and pulled it out. As I unfolded the box top, the (Qupee) Doll smiled up at me.

This is a true story. It is just as creepy now as it was back then when it first happened to me.