A few stories within my family still cling to my unconscious mind as I begin to drift into sleep every night, one about a prophecy, one about my mothers ghost, and one about the virgin mary.
My father told me this story a few years ago, I was 2 years old at the time this happened. My family and I are from the Middle East, and we have a kind of cultural tradition where after drinking our small cup of coffee (often known as Turkish coffee), we turn in upside down to let the coffee dregs dry against the sides of the cup. The shapes these dregs leave can be used to read someones future (believed so). Before leaving the Middle East we go to this womans house who is known in town as having the gift of reading. My father says she looked around the cup, saw us on a place leaving, landing in a far away land (mind you my father said we hadn’t told her we we’re leaving the ME), and then she begins counting.. one, two, three, and then she immediately throws the cup down and tells us we need to leave her house. My father said she was really upset, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. My father though it represented us 3 (Dad, Mum and I). 3 years later, when I am 5 years old, and my new born sister is only a month old.. my mother dies.
My aunt, from mums side, told me this story earlier this year. About 12 years ago my sister was really sick, and needed an organ transplant. It was really serious and there were times we thought she was going to die. I was still just coming into being a teenager at the time so it was bewildering, but I remember the emotions of horror from my father. Anyway, my aunt hadn’t talked to my father for a long time because she felt he didn’t take care of her sister well (maybe pent up grief). Regardless, she didn’t know that my sister was so sick. She told me one night she suddenly woke and saw my mother floating above her, and asked her why she hadn’t checked on my sister yet. My aunt finally calls my father and finds out how ill my sister has been. My sister has survived till now, thank God. may
Another story told by my father, when I was about 17. I’m not sure why he told me, I was really depressed at the time and was about to fail school, maybe he told me to motivate some purpose in my life. It’s worth noting my family are Catholic; yes Christians exist in the Middle East. I was also quite sick as a child, both my sister and I inherited my mothers condition. He said that this occurred when I was about 2 months old, back in the ME. He said that he, my mum and grandmother went to check on me as I had been coming out of a bad fever. When they walked in the room the saw the Virgin Mary standing at the head of my bed. This story really disturbs me, I don’t know why. But it didnt motivate me at the time, it was just really scary, and still kind of is. My mother has passed so I can’t confirm this with her, but my grandmother is still alive. I’m just to afraid to ask her if this is true.