Perhaps the dream about the train trip and robbery when I was six years old was the beginning of my awareness that I, War-ne-la Medici, saw and heard things differently from others. That particular dream is the earliest one I can remember that actually happened in my real life.
My parents, Dominic and Kathy Wallas Medici, and I were taking a trip on the Canadian-Pacific Railroad across the Rocky Mountains of Canada. The dream prior to the trip had been scary because our lives had been threatened. In the dream, my parents had been held at gunpoint by someone trying to steal their wallets. I hadn’t told my parents about the dream and had pretty much forgotten about it; that is, until the second day into the trip.
We had been riding on the train, quietly enjoying the wildlife and beautiful scenery of a part of Canada none of us had ever seen. An older gentleman joined my parents and me at our table. He told us he traveled the railroad line as a goodwill ambassador, or ombudsman. My mother explained, “That means his job is to take care of whatever the railroad needs to keep everything running smoothly.” I recognized the man because he had been in my dream. I gradually began to remember other things from my dream. Fear for our safety began to surround me. Shortly after that first meeting, the older gentleman asked my father if he could have a word with him. The two of them left the table and spoke in low voices in the corner of the railroad car.
We were scheduled to stop at a small town for a bit of shopping in its historic general store. Because I had dreamed there would be bandits near the store and someone would demand they hand over their valuables, I said in a low voice, “Mama and Papa, please lock your wallets in the bags overhead before we leave the train, just in case.” I knew they both carried secret lockets from each other in their wallets, and I didn’t want them to be stolen. After another one of those raised-eyebrow looks between them, my mother hid her wallet in the zippered side of her carry-on suitcase. My father placed his in his computer bag, locked both bags and slipped the keys into his pocket. My mother stuck a few dollars in her pocket to spend in the store. I was unaware of it at the time, but they had begun to take some things I said to heart, especially if it sounded like a warning. Once we left the train, my father said, “You two go ahead. I’ll stay here by the train.” We watched as the older gentleman locked the railroad car door after everyone had left. The cool and refreshing air was a welcome relief after the stale air of the railroad car. I walked with my mother into the store, trying to think of something besides my dream. My mother kept an unusually firm grip on my hand.
Just as everyone walked out of the general store, two gunshots rang out above our heads. I found out later that the older gentleman had told my father where emergency rifles were located underneath the bed of the railroad car and to be ready to use them if necessary. It was definitely necessary. There must have been trouble in this town during previous trips. For just a minute, I thought about the stagecoach robberies in the old Western movies. But we weren’t watching a movie. This was my dream happening in real life. I couldn’t remember all of it, but as each moment passed, I realized I had also dreamed that part.
My father and the older gentleman quickly grabbed the guns and positioned themselves between the passengers and the bandits. They reacted so quickly that the bandits stopped short when they realized two long rifles were pointed at them. So far, things were happening just as they had in my dream. Oh, why hadn’t I said something earlier?
The older gentleman instructed the passengers to quickly get back on board the railroad car. My mother gripped my hand even more tightly as we hurried onto the train. She and I got to our seats quickly. As the rest of the passengers boarded the railroad car, the bandits were held at bay by my father and the older gentleman. My father then got on board and opened a window so he could keep his rifle aimed at the bandits. Once the older gentleman boarded and joined him at the window, the train began to move. The bandits seemed paralyzed as they stared at the two rifles pointing toward them.
As the general store faded from view, my father handed his rifle to the older gentleman and sat down in the seat next to me across the table from my mother. I thought he looked a little pale as he put his arm around me and reached across the table for my mother’s hand.
Suddenly a passenger who was sitting behind us produced a pistol and demanded that my parents give him their wallets. He had obviously watched them being hidden and locked away. I thought, “Oh no! This was in the dream too!” I kept telling myself not to be scared, that maybe things might turn out differently from the dream. Why hadn’t I told my parents about my dream? Why hadn’t I told them we were going to be in danger of getting robbed? Now if we were shot, it would be my fault because I hadn’t told them about my dream. But how could I have known that what happened in the dream would actually happen in real life? I wondered if we would all die on the train. I wondered if I could just disappear into the seat. I just couldn’t seem to remember the ending of my dream.
Another thought occurred to me. If I had the ability to dream what was going to happen in the future, why couldn’t I do something to change the outcome when it happened in real life, especially if it meant our lives would be saved? An additional dilemma crept into my head. What if changing the outcome in real life would mean I might never have dreams of the future again? Part of me thought about that possibility, and the other part concentrated on trying to remember how the dream ended.
Before I was able to remember any more of the dream, a woman passenger sitting behind the man pointing the gun at my parents hit him hard on the side of his head with her shoe. In the instant of his distraction, my father took his gun away from him. How could the man with the pistol have thought he could carry out a successful robbery and escape the train in broad daylight? I decided that he was an amateur who thought he could intimidate us into submission with his gun. Fortunately for us, he wasn’t smart enough to think beyond getting his hands on some money. He let his gun do the talking, and when the gun was removed, he didn’t have much to say. After checking to be sure the man had been safely disarmed of all weapons, the older gentleman handcuffed his hands behind his back and locked the cuffs onto a bar at the rear of the railroad car. That would-be robber wasn’t going anywhere.
The whole scenario reminded me of playing a previously rehearsed part in a play. I suddenly let out a big sigh. I must have been holding my breath since getting back on the train. I then closed my eyes and was only partially aware that I was mouthing the words of the older gentleman as he spoke on the short-wave radio to Canadian law enforcement. When I opened my eyes, my parents were staring at me.
I was only vaguely aware that others didn’t know such things ahead of time. The dream before the train trip was vague, and I had difficulty remembering everything about it. I could only remember the events one piece at a time as they were unfolding in real time.
As I recalled this story, I initially wondered if all of those things were merely imagined in my six-year-old mind. But I’m convinced they really did happen. The acting out of the dream I had before the train trip across the Canadian Rockies was like a letter of introduction to my special gift.
