I am in the middle of this book about restaurants and kitchens, and while I was relaxing and reading the night before last, I suddenly had an extremely vivid flashback of my grandmother's kitchen. She and I were very close when she was alive, and when she passed away on my 17th birthday at the exact moment on the clock that I had come into the world, I took it as a sign that she'd always be with me.
I was slayed on the couch in this one. I could smell the basement of her house in Abbotsford, I could smell the faint mustyness of her old sweater, the milky comfort of her soft breath, and even, below that, the scent of something cooking in the oven. I felt so safe in the memory that when I came out of it, I sent up prayers to her thanking her for all she'd done for me, my brothers, and my numerous cousins. It was then that I thought I heard her voice. She was saying something in Low German, almost muttering really. She said her own name a few times. I ended up getting up and immediately re-arranging things all over my house, which is something I tend to do when feeling ungrounded or overwhelmed. I wasn't scared though. But I felt like I'd tapped into her energy for sure. The next few things that rattled through my mind were strange. One stream of thinking was dark... thoughts of my step-grandmother. Another stream concerned baking. She was telling me to bake. Also a few flashes of my mother, how she wanted me to reach out to my mother more. After these very specific thoughts came a stream of images. One was of jars of buttons, which I had forgotten that she collected. Another was of a purple afgan blanket that I suddenly remembered, and not only remembered, but had another super vivid flash of a day when I was trying to play "sick" and threw up all over said blanket. The last one that I can remember right now was of a cupboard of what appeared to be baking supplies.
I started feeling at some point that there was what I call "interference" which sometimes happens when speaking with spirits. You'll be open and in contact with a specific energy, and all of a sudden, some crazy thought or phrase or image will come through that is obviously not of the light. This time, it was super bizarre, and I won't even put the time into notating it, but suffice to say, I signed off with grandma right away, surrounded my house and space with white light, and sat singing gospel until the wee hours of the morning. Part of me felt like my grandma was maybe still hovering near, listening to the ancient melodies rolling off my tongue. I went to sleep feeling safe and blessed and had blissed out dreams.
The next day, I decided to outfit my kitchen for baking, and went and gathered everything I could possibly need. Ended up spending the day creating what are some of the most delectable desserts I've ever tasted. It was so strange. Once I began, I kept looking down at my hands as they mixed, rolled and patted dough. I kept on tripping out that they were my mother's hands (she is also a baker, an amazing one!), and then my grandmother's hands. I was reeling in the timestream a bit, and had to keep grounding myself. At one point, a pie pastry came out the wrong consistency, and I jokingly said out loud, "Hey, grams! What do I do?" and suddenly I heard her again, saying, "Just add flour." It was pretty awesome.
Anyways, the coolest part of this experience is that I've now got a job baking at the restaurant where I work! We've been ordering our desserts from a local woman, but have always dreamed of having them made in house.
I made the best pie I'd ever tasted (and I've eaten a lot of pie, trust me!), along with one of the most succulent key lime cheesecakes EVER, and had the chefs taste them both. Total win! Looks like I'll be making a regular thing of it. I'd never made either thing in my life before, so I'm definitely crediting my dead grandma with the instant success. I could just see her smiling down at me as I lifted that first perfect pie from the oven. What a sweet way to pass a tradition on.
And what a nice episode of contact with the other side. Glad nothing tried to knock me out this time.