What are dreams? Are they the imaginations of the heart, or the soul at play without imposed limitations to restrict it? Do they have meaning—messages from beyond? And what of unexplained phenomenon—has it a purpose? I think, yes. These are some of my life experiences...
1. Being in White
Age: 10 (approximate)
Location: Dairy Farm, Dover-Foxcroft, Maine
Though it was many years ago, I vividly remember the bedroom I shared with my older sister, JoAnn. It was big enough for our twin beds, which straddled the only heat source in our room, a small register in the floor. The square-shaped register had an iron grid top and bottom. At some point we discovered that the top could be removed, and that we could easily fit one of our sneaky heads down into it, and though upside down, could watch whatever T.V. program our parents had sent us to bed early not to see. I often wonder what fear would have gripped my heart if Daddy had looked up and seen my conniving eyes looking down.
Our bedroom had one window that looked out over the meadows, and on to the woods. The room had three doors, one that led down an enclosed stairwell to the kitchen, a short door that opened to a small cubby, and a door to the attic. The attic held a secret of mine as it became the burial place of a small litter of unfortunate kittens, which my tiny hands lovingly laid to rest amongst the soft, pink fiberglass under its worn boards. JoAnn slept in the bed closest to the window, mine was by the attic door. The door that led downstairs to the kitchen was at the foot of both our beds.
JoAnn had stayed late at a friends house and upon returning, decided to sleep downstairs on one of the two couches in the living room. I awoke during the night and went downstairs for a drink of water. I left the door upstairs open. As I ascended the stairs, my eyes beheld a being, all arrayed in white, sitting on JoAnn’s bed, facing mine. I did not turn and run, but quickly surmised the situation. I looked to the register to see if any light from it could be causing the image I saw. I checked the window and the attic door for any signs of light. There wasn’t any, and yet the being remained, eyes fixed on me. He did not do, or say anything. I suppose he waited for my reaction to him. He presented no danger to me—no reason to fear him, but I did. I’m convinced that a staunch Baptist upbringing entrenched in unnatural fear gripped my young heart, of which I sorely regret. I inched my way over to my bed, snatched a pillow, and then hurried downstairs to the second couch with our family dog, Duchess, by my side. I remember no sleep, but prayed for protection for the rest of the night.
Who was that being, and what was his purpose? Why was he entirely white, from the top of his head, to the bottom of his feet? Did he have a message for me, or perhaps a request? Dare I imagine I hold some importance to him somehow? Or was he merely resting, before continuing his journey?
I do know, as anyone would, that he was not of this world—at that moment at least. Perhaps he was an ancestor returning to stir my heart towards spiritual matters, or an angel of God, whose purpose remains unknown for a while longer?
Whatever the purpose, this undeniable fact remains—there is more to life than meets the mortal eye. I bear firm witness of that.
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