One of the firsthand encounters with the supernatural.
These past few years have seen many perplexing events. The ginseng flower was just one of them. For instance, shortly after I met Jeff, I had a dream. In the dream, I saw my deceased husband carrying our little daughter, Bubu, back home. It was as if a scene from the past had come alive before my eyes. He carried her, both of them smiling brightly, while his face was pale as a ghost, as if burdened by an invisible weight, struggling to breathe. A chill ran down my spine, and although I remembered that he had passed away, I wasn’t sure if it was just a figment of my imagination. Doubts flooded my mind, but at least I remembered he was seriously ill and couldn’t carry our daughter.
I urgently warned my daughter, shouting hoarsely, “Come down, don’t you know Dad is sick?!” He laughed heartily, setting Bubu down, and she ran off to play. When he finally turned to look at me, I was surprised to see a mold-like patch above Jason’s nose, like a dark seed spreading across his face, slowly corroding his once warm countenance.
The vision from the dream jolted me awake, my heart pounding, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Was it a warning? Or a premonition? This dream haunted me for a long time.
Three years later, our daughter suddenly suffered from brain death due to aggressive chemotherapy, and it was discovered that she had a fungal infection in her nasal cavity. The infection was spreading rapidly, and the doctors gave us a grim diagnosis, saying she needed immediate surgery, or the consequences would be dire. But given Bubu’s weak vitality, the chances of surviving the surgery were less than ten percent. It felt like another major decision weighing heavily upon me. Jeff was almost on the brink of collapse that day. As a Christian, he even drove our church pastor away, expressing his anger towards God. He wanted to ask why God had given him a daughter whom he cherished so much, only to take her away from him now?! Jeff was so numb, he wanted to gulp down coffee like beer, angrily telling the pastor.
Suddenly, I remembered the dream from three years ago, and, coincidentally, the day of the surgery was also Bubu’s biological father’s birthday, February 9th! It all seemed to click into place! A surge of strength coursed through me, telling me not to lose hope. There was no doubt, Bubu would come back. It was like a guiding light, an assurance. I knew I had no choice; I had to believe in miracles, in the power of the soul.
As I said, the day of the surgery was also my husband’s birthday. Like a prophet, I told Jeff to trust and not to fear. I pushed him outside to take a breather, assuring him! And outside the operating room, I silently invoked Jason’s name, hoping he could see us, take care of our daughter, and praying for a miracle.
Later, when the doors of the operating room finally opened, the surgeon gave me two thumbs up, indicating success! As Bubu was wheeled out of the operating room, her body was cold to the touch, but there was a long-lost, naturally beautiful smile on her face, radiating an angelic glow, tinged with a hint of eeriness, as if bidding farewell to someone invisible to us. We all saw it, and we were amazed, considering we hadn’t seen her expression for a long time. Tears streamed down my face; I believed Jason was there. I believed he had brought our daughter back. This was not just the skill of the doctors; it was a power beyond life itself. Therefore, I believe that the soul is eternal, and love never fades away. Whether in dreams or reality, our love will always be with us.
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