Finding Heuston

And underneath the pale grey sky is no place for a girl like you in this life

Can you hear me?

You'll get out alive

I'll be seeing you soon

Where the roses wont die

In July of 2013 I stood in Stephens Green; a park in Dublin, Ireland.

I had noticed a statue in the distance and immediately was drawn to it.

I strayed away from my family and slowly wandered up to the statue. It's back was to me.

The figure's face took my breath away.

I had never been so transfixed by a statue before.

It was the most handsome piece of work I had ever seen.

Every carve was intricate.

Each line of him was as if he could come alive at night.

His lips seemed humble and his eyes held power.

I felt a little odd by how awestruck I was.

My flesh began to be covered in goose bumps as my father joined me to have a look.

This statue was of Sean Heuston; a very important man in Irish history.

Later during our trip, my mother wanted to visit a jail and I had been dreading it. I thought it would be boring and creepy. I did not want to go at all and persisted.

But to my surprise I learned more among the cold and grey cells than anywhere else in Ireland.

We were shown a slideshow. As faces of men flashed in front of my eyes, my heart stopped.

There he was.

The man in the park.

Sean.

Sean (who went by Jack or JJ) stood for Ireland's freedom.

He battled against the British, but was captured and held in jail. 

He was quickly put on trial and then executed by a firing squad along with 15 other men.

At 25, Sean was the youngest to be killed.

My trip to Ireland eventually came to an end and life went on as I returned home.

About a year later, Ireland was a fond but distant memory. I had thrown myself into my studies and was focused on becoming a teacher. 

But during that year something unusual began to happen.

One night after I had cried myself to sleep over a boy, I had the most vivid dream.

And I will never forget it.

I was standing alone on a big green grassy hill.

A willow tree to my right.

A crystal blue lake in front of me.

The sun gave off a hazy golden warmth and the sky was a sugary light pink.

Flowers dotted the scene and mourning doves cooed in the distance.  

I was standing in pure silence; the breeze ruffling my hair.

My heart hurt as I looked across the water.

Suddenly, someone stepped out next to me.

He stood beside me and said nothing.

My heart pounded as I stole a glance at him.

He caught me looking at him and he gave me a crooked smile.

Suddenly with his hands in his pocket, he trudged down the steep hill.

He picked up a pebble off the sand, studied it, and then tossed it into the water.  

Each time the pebble sank he turned around and looked up at me.

Pebble after pebble, grin after grin, I began to walk down to him.

As I grew closer to him, gun shots began to sound and he ran into the water terrified.

His eyes of happiness changed.

The gunshots and the look on his face startled me so much, I bolted upright in sweat.

I had just met a dead man.

This was Sean.

Flesh, bone, breathing Sean.

A man who was murdered.

The dreams continued for months and months.

But the strange thing was, he only appeared when I was distraught.

In the dreams we did everything together.

Underneath a brilliant sunset we often walked down a never-ending shore in silence.

We skipped rocks on the water and climbed trees.

We caught fire flies, sat on giant boulders and explored the depths of places I have never seen.

He never spoke, but his eyes were always happy.

Sean had a glow to him, and his presence felt so overwhelmingly real.

And finally one night he opened his mouth.

Kathryn, there's really no sense in grieving all the time.

You've a good life! This world is not as terrible as you think. You're a beautiful young lady...I beg of you! Do not let all the lies and hatred get to you. How many times will I walk you down this shore? There's a grey sky but you're light. Don't forget it. If only you could see yourself through my two eyes... You're a gorgeous person. Keep me in your heart. Pray and I'll never leave.

After that dream, I never saw him again. I dreamt of the same scene, but Sean was no where to be found.

So when I returned to Ireland this year, the one thing I wanted to see was Sean's statue.

It was as If I was going to see an old friend. 

 As I scampered off the bus into Stephens Green, my heart sank. 

I couldn't find his statue.  

Thankfully, a boy named Bryan ended up helping me. 

Sean was in Phoenix Park.

To this day I feel like I've known Mr. Heuston.

I almost feel as though he loved me.

I know that dreams are only dreams but there are some days I really wonder....

Could that have been him?

I like to believe it was.

Thank you Sean for instilling faith in my heart.

For cheering me up.

For keeping me company in my loneliness.

I'll always carry him close to my heart...and I'm hoping he'll visit me on that green grassy hill again someday..

Perhaps I learned the lesson he was trying to teach me.

Love yourself and spread goodness.

The world isn't all bad.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Very amazing experience! You are brave to share this as transparently as you have, since some might not put much importance into it, being "just a dream." But I believe there are unknown & unseen connections between all kinds of spirits, whether those of the dead, or of people we can't be near, or even people we don't know. There's so much we don't know about how the energy of spirit is shared between us. The important thing is that this series of dreams helped you in a time you needed it & with a helpful point of view that had served Sean well in his short life, so why wouldn't he want to share it with you, another person needing this wisdom? Nice share. Well written with vivid details & honest feelings.

[Fahmida Mehreen]

Dear Kathryn,
This a beautiful story. Of time, of love, of life. What is most know, apparently lies in the unknown. This seemed like a manifestation of it.
If this is true story, hat's off to your bravery. Yes, bravery. Only a brave heart and mind can pull this off.

[wordman]

this is a great story kathryn,and who knows maybe he did come to you.

[prashant]

there are few things you can't check or give your opinion.they are so great.this is one of them.

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Kathryn. Thank you for sharing the amazing story. I love history. To learn about great people from the past was my daily search for three year when I was station in Germany. I enjoy the story and I liked how you found the prison where he was held. Your concern and thoughts made him come alive in dreams. I do believe dreams have great purpose. Can be a warning or something showing us to slow down. Thank you for sharing this story. Needs to be read by more people.
Coyote