More Than A Dream: Sleep-State ADCs
These are much more vivid, intense, colorful, and real than ordinary dreams. They are extremely common. Both one-way and two-way communications are typical. You usually feel your loved one is with you in person and that you’re having an actual visit together. These may happen in a familiar place or one that is foreign to you. Sleep-State ADCs are not jumbled, filled with symbols, or fragmented the way dreams usually are. There are endless possibilities of what may occur during this type of contact. These are also called “visitation dreams.”
Sleep-State ADCs are similar to other types of after-death communication that occur while you are wide awake. Your friend or relative can come to you more easily, however, when you are relaxed, open, and receptive, like when you are in the alpha state or asleep.
Sleep-State ADCs are similar to other types of after-death communication that occur while you are wide awake. Your friend or relative can come to you more easily, however, when you are relaxed, open, and receptive, like when you are in the alpha state or asleep.
Samples Stories
Henry, a retired music arranger in Florida, had this elating ADC a month after his father died of a lingering illness at age 89:
I refer to this experience as a dream. There was Dad in living color standing by the front door. He looked between seventy and seventy-five, and instead of being bald, he had white hair. He had on dark blue pants, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue tie.
He was very enthusiastic, very happy, and said, “Come outside.” I remember opening the door and going out, while squeezing his right arm. It was like touching my arm or your arm, he was that real. I said, “Is this really you, Dad?” He said, “Yes, this is really me.”
Then Dad stepped back and said, “Look, I can walk! I can see!” He had a great sense of humor and did a little step with a spring in it. When he was alive he could not walk without his walker, and he was totally blind when he passed on.
When I woke up, I was overjoyed. This confirmed life after death for me. There is no death – there is only life.
I refer to this experience as a dream. There was Dad in living color standing by the front door. He looked between seventy and seventy-five, and instead of being bald, he had white hair. He had on dark blue pants, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue tie.
He was very enthusiastic, very happy, and said, “Come outside.” I remember opening the door and going out, while squeezing his right arm. It was like touching my arm or your arm, he was that real. I said, “Is this really you, Dad?” He said, “Yes, this is really me.”
Then Dad stepped back and said, “Look, I can walk! I can see!” He had a great sense of humor and did a little step with a spring in it. When he was alive he could not walk without his walker, and he was totally blind when he passed on.
When I woke up, I was overjoyed. This confirmed life after death for me. There is no death – there is only life.
Janet is a nurse in North Dakota. She became a bereaved mother when her 4-year-old son, Toby, died of a brain hemorrhage:
This occurred approximately one year after my son died. I recall the dream as if I had just had it last night. I was standing on a river bank and looking over at Toby on the other side.
His side was a lush green with beautiful trees. The water was a beautiful blue, and there were birds I could hear. It was a paradise, like the Garden of Eden. Everything was so quiet and peaceful.
Toby was standing in grass and flowers up to his waist, close to the edge of the river. He was a little boy, the same little guy that I lost. He was wearing a striped T-shirt and blue jeans and was so very real and happy.
I kept trying to get over to Toby, but I couldn’t. He looked up at me and spoke with such a calmness. He said, “No, Mom, you can’t come over here. I’m okay. I’m fine. But you can’t come over here.” He had to tell me that several times because I wanted to cross the river to be with him.
Toby was calming me like an adult would. I almost felt like a child in comparison, as if an older, wiser person was talking to me. He was telling me to settle down and realize that his life is good now. He gave me the sense that he is at peace and that he’s where he belongs.
The dream seemed so real, as real as life itself. When I woke up, I felt crushed that the dream was over. And yet I felt so comforted by it.
This occurred approximately one year after my son died. I recall the dream as if I had just had it last night. I was standing on a river bank and looking over at Toby on the other side.
His side was a lush green with beautiful trees. The water was a beautiful blue, and there were birds I could hear. It was a paradise, like the Garden of Eden. Everything was so quiet and peaceful.
Toby was standing in grass and flowers up to his waist, close to the edge of the river. He was a little boy, the same little guy that I lost. He was wearing a striped T-shirt and blue jeans and was so very real and happy.
I kept trying to get over to Toby, but I couldn’t. He looked up at me and spoke with such a calmness. He said, “No, Mom, you can’t come over here. I’m okay. I’m fine. But you can’t come over here.” He had to tell me that several times because I wanted to cross the river to be with him.
Toby was calming me like an adult would. I almost felt like a child in comparison, as if an older, wiser person was talking to me. He was telling me to settle down and realize that his life is good now. He gave me the sense that he is at peace and that he’s where he belongs.
The dream seemed so real, as real as life itself. When I woke up, I felt crushed that the dream was over. And yet I felt so comforted by it.
