Earlier this year, as warm night breezes invited the curtains to dance, I had a remarkable dream.

I dreamed I stepped outside our first home, in Groton, my surroundings richly textured. Vibrant details soaked into my awareness as grass, trees and leaves exuded a magnificent clarity.

I looked around in wonder at this new world. The sun didn’t shine, but the day was bright. It seemed a special day, bursting with expectation.

My mother-in-law had lived next door before she died, as in my real world. I saw no car pull into the driveway, but I sensed that she had come home, though she passed years ago. I went over to say hello.

When I entered the house, the day outside turned to dusk. Her small kitchen was in shadows, but she was swathed in light. I couldn’t discern her exact features, but rather a soft, unfocused, shimmering outline of her former self. It was her.

She was putting things away, as she had done so often in life. Now a vibrational, glowing being, she moved slowly between an island and the counter, where dim light streamed through two windows overlooking the sink. I watched her work.

I attempted small talk, but stopped. Talk seemed a rude intrusion on her new state of being.

She never spoke, yet there was a knowing communication between us. I sensed her saying “Feel this.”

An overwhelming peace enveloped us, permeating the room and every part of me. It completely embraced me, transforming me, overwhelming my consciousness.

Pulled into her state of grace, we somehow existed together on another level, completely removed from the reality I knew. We acknowledged each other without words.

Mesmerizing and comforting, she was a divine celebration of pure peace, offering a stunning gift. I was touched, filled with gratitude.

I was sure this was life after death, the peaceful, transcendent world of souls. It was spectacularly spiritual, inviting, exhilarating beyond anything I’d ever known.

I could have stayed, leaving my good life behind without hesitation.

I’m not one to fall for deception or the vulnerabilities of grief and emotion. But I hold a deep respect for our world of strange parallel universes, woven with layers of space and time, with possibilities our primitive human minds often avoid or ignorantly deny.

I awoke, and unlike any other dream, I carried this rare, deep feeling of peace into my workday, afraid to lose it. I was convinced that death is indeed a beautiful part of living.

Some believe “visitation” dreams occur, where spirits of those passed visit, sometimes imparting a message, sometimes not.

I wonder. The dreaming brain is capable of all manner of trickery.

Yet, if this was merely a trick of the sleeping mind, something that might well occur many times, why only one grand illusion in over 23,000 nights of dreams?

John Steward lives in Waterford and can be contacted at tossinglines@gmail.com. To read more, visit www.johnsteward.online.