Two years ago, my mother passed away. Since then, every now and then—especially when I feel stuck or overwhelmed—I find myself turning to her for guidance. Not because I firmly believe in life after death or anything like that… but more like, when I’ve exhausted everything within my control, I think: why not?
Today was one of those days.
I had just come out of yet another brutal recruitment process. Four interviews. Two tests. Reference checks. The whole thing. I pushed hard for this job—paid for interview coaching, test prep, spent hours refining my resume. I really gave it everything I had.
And at the end of it, I just felt drained. Frustrated. Almost insulted.
Like—what is this, really?
Why am I the one constantly having to prove myself, when they’re the ones looking for someone like me? It felt like I was being dissected the entire time. Not “are you capable?” but “are you perfect enough to not reject?”
After the final interview where they really grilled me over details from a personality test—I was completely exhausted. So I went out into the forest to clear my head.
At some point, I just said:
“Alright, mom. I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at this. What’s the verdict? Will I get it? Show me a sign.”
Usually, when I do this, I get some kind of “feeling” or image. If it’s a yes, she seems warm, approving. If not, more stern. I don’t take it too seriously—it’s more like flipping a coin, just to get unstuck.
But this time was different.
She started… giggling.
Not kindly. Not reassuringly. More like the way she used to laugh when something was a bit ridiculous. Almost like she was mocking the whole situation.
I got irritated.
“Really? This is how you’re helping me right now?”
Same response. Just giggling, brushing it off.
So I tried again:
“Fine. Just tell me—will I get the job?”
This time she went completely neutral. Blank. Like someone holding a perfect poker face.
I asked, “What, are you not allowed to say?”
And she just went back to that same amused, dismissive reaction.
No matter how I tried to reframe it, I got the same thing.
Eventually I asked, “So… this isn’t important? That’s what you’re saying?”
And again—just a shrug, a laugh, like the whole thing didn’t matter.
That actually upset me. I don’t do this often, and when I do, it usually gives me something. But this felt… useless. Almost sarcastic.
So I gave up and started walking back home.
After a while, I thought:
“Alright. One last chance. If you’re not going to communicate, at least give me a sign. Something tangible.”
I kept walking, scanning my surroundings.
Nothing.
Then suddenly—a loud, explosive sound. For a split second, I thought it was a gunshot. My whole body tensed up.
Turned out it was just a forest dove, flapping away like crazy—probably startled by me.
Still, I tried to interpret it.
“Okay… flee? Is that what you’re telling me?”
But flee from what? The place? The situation? The job?
Then I heard a deer barking somewhere deeper in the woods. And in my peripheral vision, I caught sight of something large and dark up on a hill—maybe 50 meters away.
My heart jumped.
Was it a moose? A bear?
I had to get closer to check. Turns out—it was just a fallen tree, its roots sticking up in a way that made it look like a huge animal.
That was the moment something shifted.
The whole thing—the “sign,” the fear, the interpretation all started to feel off. Like I was forcing meaning onto things that didn’t actually carry it.
I kept walking home, feeling a bit uneasy.
And then I had this thought:
What am I even doing? Trying to communicate with someone who’s dead?
I pushed it further:
“She’s gone. That’s it. There’s nothing there.”
And for a moment, it felt like she responded—not with laughter this time, but something softer. A bit sad, but with a faint smile. Almost like:
“What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”
But I didn’t follow that thought. I was tired of the whole loop.
Instead, I started thinking about something else.
Even though I logically understand that there was a time before I existed, and there will be a time after I’m gone… it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’ve always been here. Like, somehow, I’ll keep being here.
And that led me to this idea:
So, we exist in time and space. Everything that we call reality is both in time and in space - if any of these cannot be tied to an experience its no longer a part of reality, right? What if that is not the case but its the only way for us that are still alive to interpret reality.
I had an insight that people that are dead have fallen out of the time dimension of life but not the room dimension, meaning that they can and do freely travel only within the room dimension and are no longer bound by time.
So, we cannot go back or forwards in time but for them time does not exist - only room. And that could explain so many things like how people can see or communicate with persons that are not "in this world" as we see it - but really they are, just not in the time dimension anymore.
I am sure 99% of all of this doesnt make sense but I wanted to share it because I rarely get insights anymore but this one felt true and I wanted to see if it resonates with anyone out there.