25/01/2025
Your experience sounds deeply transformative. The dream you had, and the realization that followed, seems to have led you through a profound shift in perception about life, death, and connection. In the depths of your grief, you encountered a sense of continuity with your mother, not as a physical presence, but as an enduring spirit and energy woven into your life. The moonlight, the tea plants, and the mountains themselves became part of this realization, offering a reminder that the love, wisdom, and essence of those who came before us never truly leave us—they live on in ways we often fail to recognize in the busyness of life.
The dream’s vividness and your subsequent understanding of your body as a continuation of your ancestors reflect a deep spiritual awareness. This connection to the land, to the moonlight, and to your mother's memory are expressions of that continuity, where the boundary between past and present blurs. Your mother, in a way, becomes part of the rhythm of your existence, flowing through every aspect of your life, not as a distant memory, but as an active, loving presence.
Grief, often seen as an overwhelming weight, can sometimes reveal the hidden dimensions of connection, where loss transforms into a new kind of bond. Your experience speaks to that subtle, often unrecognized, bond with the past, where love and memory persist through the ages. Walking through the tea plants and feeling your mother beside you seems to encapsulate this—her presence is not bound by physical absence, but continues to guide and nurture you, as you continue on your path.