The Premonition
by Dalia Gesser

Just days before my two young sons, my husband and I moved to a new area, I awoke one morning in a pool of sweat, very distraught from a dream that hovered clearly in my mind. In this shocking dream, my husband Steve accused me of having an affair and then tried to stab me with a knife. As I screamed, trying to protect myself, a figure of a large, muscular man oddly appeared and saved me. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could make out his dark features. After disarming Steve, this kind stranger looked at me with infatuation and I returned the gaze in kind. Then the dream continued in another room with just the dark featured stranger and me. Without hesitation, I gave myself fully to this unknown man and found myself swept up in this passionate moment. His warmth and affection were comforting and he felt like home.
    After calming my breathing down to a slightly slower pace than that of a small rodent, I was finally able to stop trembling. I lay there awake, trying to make sense of this incredible dream and couldn’t get past how genuine it felt. It was set in another era, as if we had all known each other before in a past life. It was so out of character for my husband, Steve, as he had never displayed any violence against me. I had never been unfaithful to him, so why was my subconscious giving me this message?
    I concluded that this dream could only be the culmination of years of revealing my soul to the unknown, preparing myself for this key message. I had only my grandmother to thank. As a young child, my father spoke of a psychic gift that was bestowed upon his mother. Throughout her life, her premonition filled dreams foretold events that would terrify her as these predictions always had negative connotations. After such a dream, she would wake up in a deep sweat and sit up in bed shaking, so petrified of yet another traumatic vision that brought only terrible news about the people she loved. There were times that she refused to sleep, but even an unsophisticated soul such as hers, knew that this was merely a temporary solution. She was reticent in sharing the majority of these dreams with others, as they were just too disturbing for her to even mention. 
    Whenever my father shared one of my grandmother’s psychic dreams with me, I was made aware that these dreams always foretold the future accurately. From her husband’s car accident, my uncle and aunt divorcing, to my father’s premature death, she knew the outcome before these events happened. My father, who shared my curiosity in knowing about my grandmother’s psychic awareness, always relayed these events to me with a heavy heart.
    My grandmother’s death seemed to spark my interest into developing my psychic abilities. As a first step, I spent a lot of time trying to imagine and understand her life, being constantly dictated by fear of her extrasensory powers. Then one night, while lying in bed, just before falling asleep, my thoughts drifted again to my grandmother and how her psychic dreams had encumbered her waking life. I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, having difficulty trying to fathom what had just occurred. It was inconceivable, but my grandmother appeared to me in a dream, just like others had appeared to her. She communicated to me, for the first time, that I too had a gift and it was time to allow my soul to be receptive. It was difficult for me to seriously consider what she had disclosed to me, for fear of being burdened by sadness and damaging news. After much contemplation, I vowed to go beyond my fear of the unknown by at least researching extrasensory powers. I mean how could I ignore the strongest message my grandmother had ever conveyed to me? With this resolve, I felt a strange sense of calm.
    Over the next few months, with newfound courage, I tried to open my soul to different extrasensory possibilities. I inhaled any book I could lay my hands on about paranormal cases and engage my friends in discussions trying to draw them into my new tentative interest. Through this involvement, my soul had unknowingly been opened to these extra senses and my grandmother’s message affirmed the truth. As this awareness began to blossom and I discovered some psychic powers of my own, I realized that unlike my grandma, I also connected with people in a positive way. 
    My first telepathic discovery was realizing that I had a talent for knowing who was phoning our house, before anyone answered the call. As the phone would ring and I had only seconds to test my powers, I would excitedly call out the person’s name who was phoning. If I was right, goose bumps would appear all down my arms. 
    When I was nineteen years old, my grandmother’s prediction of my father’s death, had sadly transpired. On the bus ride returning from my father’s funeral and visit with my family, I awoke from a nap and saw my dad standing in the aisle smiling down at me. He was wearing his brown shirt and brown pants, one of his everyday outfits. Once the vision faded, tears streamed down my face as I sat watching the spot where he stood. Though this vision only remained for a few seconds, it was enough to reassure me of his love. I thought of that apparition of my father often, it was my anchor, as I struggled through my grieving period. 
    I pondered all of these incidents as this incredible dream kept playing through my mind. It was by far the most disturbing dream I had ever experienced. For days, I was haunted by the essence of this mystery man and I longed to determine the meaning of this arresting dream. 
    A few years before, my husband and I fell in love with and bought a beautiful piece of land in hopes of one day building our dream house with our future family. After years of planning, while our house construction was finally underway, we rented another house and moved down the road from our new property. My husband, though he enjoyed designing this house and intended to build a lot of it himself, found that work took him away continuously, to the point that hiring other carpenters was a necessity. Charlie, one of the experienced carpenters we hired, took over the project. Upon first meeting him, I couldn’t help but notice his large muscular body, quite a contrast to my small frame. His mild mannered nature was also a welcome change from my husband’s sometimes too emotional character. Since Charlie did not live in the area, he moved in with us, which we assumed would only be for the duration of the house building.
    As time went on, my friendship with Charlie grew and I found myself having less interest in my husband. Forced into being a single mom to two small boys for endless weeks resulted in my constant exhaustion. The stress and continuous battles with my husband over house building decisions and finances, was at times overwhelming and made this supposed dream house lose all appeal. Through the months, the rift between my husband and I grew wider. I had less patience for him and could no longer find comedy in his little idiosyncrasies. Our marriage was deteriorating and I really didn’t care.
    About six months after Charlie moved in with us, our new house was completed enough for us to take up residence. Charlie moved with us into our new home and worked towards finishing our house. I was relieved that my new best friend continued to live with us, share my friendship and buffer my loveless marriage. 
    One evening, while Steve was typically away earning money for our mammoth house building project, Charlie and I talked about life and solved many world issues. At some point, he gazed at me in a certain way, completely unaware, that sent shivers down my spine. This look was shockingly familiar, from some distant memory, but I couldn’t place it. Through my confusion, I blushed and tried to conceal my attraction to him, which had been stirring up inside me for months.                                             
Later as I lay in bed, still questioning Charlie’s gaze, it occurred to me that he was the man in that memorable dream. I was overwhelmed by the thought of having my conscious mind awakened a year earlier, reconnecting me with my soul mate. I was excited and relieved with this revelation, but was hesitant on expressing myself to him. As we spent more evenings alone together over many weeks, the temptation became too great. One night, I finally allowed myself to give into our mutual attraction. Our passion was everything I had hoped for, even better than my recollection of that arresting dream. From then on, caught in this web of deceit and lust, our relationship evolved, and my husband had become the outsider. It was inevitable that my life would move forward with my new man, I just needed time to work through the many details of my impending separation.                          
    Charlie and I plotted continuously, trying to arrive at the best plan that would see me out of this predicament. When the time was right, Charlie and I decided on the night that I would drop the bomb that was to end my marriage. I had witnessed my husband’s rage many times, when he destroyed valuable objects by flinging, kicking or ripping them apart and found it disturbing to watch, but I had never been fearful of his lack of control. I knew that this would be the ultimate test for him and I was truly scared. Charlie, who would not consider putting me in jeopardy, was adamant that I not be alone in this volatile situation. 
    The evening we targeted began with Charlie making an excuse to leave the house for a few hours. After my two children were in bed, my husband and I normally stayed in the kitchen. Donned in his bathrobe, Steve sat reading the newspaper, clueless as to what lay in store for him. As planned, at 8:00 p.m. I gazed outside our kitchen window and watched for Charlie’s lit lighter as a sign that he was present in the woodshed. When I saw Charlie’s signal I sighed quietly, my adrenal madly pumping. It was time to muster up all my courage and speak. Other than relaying to my husband that whatever we once had was no longer there, I did not feel the necessity to ramble on in some monologue about the ‘good years’ and said very little else. My husband did not seem surprised by my request for him to leave. I informed him, that his departure would be temporary until our separation was finalized and he would have his dream house returned to him.
    He left the room quietly, after informing me that he would vacate the house, once he got dressed and grabbed a few items. A few minutes later, he returned to the kitchen a very different man. He starting yelling accusations at me of other men he believed I had been unfaithful with and became very irrational. As he walked past the kitchen counter, he grabbed one of the knives out of the holder and lunged at me. I screamed in terror and tried to shield myself. Charlie rushed in, grabbed the knife away from Steve and pushed him out the door. As I arose from the floor still shaking, we both witnessed Steve drive down the road, which I assumed, to the home of our good friends. Through my anger and welling guilt, I had some relief in knowing that I was not throwing him out on the road, literally. Just minutes later, after watching my husband’s headlights fade, Charlie swept me into his arms. I cried with mixed emotions of leaving my long time relationship and moving onto my new one. It suddenly struck me that the dream that brought me Charlie, was really a premonition.
    In retrospect, I had no regrets leaving my marriage for this large muscular man of my past life. My present life had definitely improved, I was happier, more relaxed and my boys had bonded well with their new stepdad. 
    Months later, I awoke one night, in a sweat from another profound dream. The details of this dream were vague but I was left with a very strong uneasy feeling. I could tell it was Charlie, but I couldn’t recognize the woman he was with. Her facial features were blurred, I could only distinguish that she had a petit frame. My Charlie, who had the kindest soul, was physically abusing her! The time was unfamiliar to me, I just got a sense that it was many lifetimes ago. I sat in disbelief at what had occurred in this vision. I looked over at Charlie sleeping and tried to dismiss this dream as imaginary.
    A few days later, I crossed paths with an old acquaintance I hadn’t seen in many months. She asked me about how Charlie and I were getting along and I told her that meeting him was the best thing that happened to me since the birth of my children. She smiled then commented about never knowing someone until you know everything about their lives. I agreed, she wished me all the best and we parted ways. As I walked away, I began to think of this ominous dream and how there was a lot about Charlie that I didn’t know. Over the two years I had been friends then lovers with him, I periodically asked him about his life. He shared many comical stories of his childhood with me, but very little of his adult life. Whenever our conversation would touch on the last twenty odd years, he would cleverly circumvent the issue and change the subject. How could these gaps in his life have never raised my suspicions? By the time I reached my car, I was filled with distrust and fear. Was this latest haunting dream another premonition?

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