I had a very strange dream last night:
In my dream, I was in a house with sage green walls, going through the drawers of a cherrywood chest. My great-grandmother had died, and I felt that she wanted to tell me something, that something had been left unsaid. I was looking through boxes of rings, other jewelry, and small items when I came upon a box of envelopes.
I was just reaching for these envelopes when I heard my grandmother’s voice. She was telling me that my birth certificate was faked, that she had my real birth certificate here, with these papers, and that I should find it. I picked up a pile of envelopes and sorted through them, and sure enough– there was a birth certificate.
Next, it was very strange, but both within my dream and inside my awake concious mind was the admonition: Get the name!…Get the name!…Get the name!
I made sure at that moment, to read the surname on the birth certificate:
This morning I told my husband about my dream as he was getting ready for work. He said, “How on earth did you ever come up with that name?” (in my dream). I had no idea; I didn’t even know if it was a real word. So I googled it. This is what I discovered:
“Gana” is a Hebrew word meaning ‘garden’.
There is a water company called “Gana” only blocks away from the hospital I was born at in Gardena, California.
Three brothers with the last surname of “Gana” came to the United States from Barbados in the late 1820’s and early 1830’s. They landed at New Orleans. Apparently there is a family tree, family crest, the whole ball of wax.
This is one of those unique dreams that I’m sure I won’t forget.