An Earthbound Spirit Steps Through Time To Visit Me
I had no visits from Mr. Divine the next week but he promptly showed up the following Monday dressed in a GI Joe type of army green outfit and black leather boots. I wondered if we were going to talk about war today. Boot camp. Grunts. Machine guns. Weapronry. Kids playing with toy guns. That never appealed to me. It all makes my stomach queasy.
“What are we going to talk about today?” I asked him after we engaged in some light conversation.
“We are going to change the pace in this visit. We are going to talk about what is sometimes referred to as trapped earth-bound souls. To set the tone let’s begin by talking about Heaven. Heaven is a peaceful place where those souls go after death whose awareness is aligned with positive vibrations. It is my wish that everyone go there after making the transition commonly known as death. It is important to not leave this world filled with anger, bitterness, and hurt for you truly do take it with you; it actually determines where you go. If you die at peace with yourself, the people in your world, and the world at large, you will go to a peaceful place after you pass on. Unfortunately, many people do not die at peace with themselves or with other people in their lives. Some souls are so filled with anger, hurt, and darkness that they simply do not know how to go to Heaven or perhaps to the light is a better word. Such souls get stuck between heaven and earth. The girl in your writing The War Child is about an earthbound soul who is trapped between two realms.”
I gulped and gasped. You know about the girl in The War Child?
“Are we pushing buttons here?” Mr. Divine asked.
“You might say that. That is a very personal and haunting writing. Do we have to talk about it? Can’t we let the poor dead girl rest?”
“Not when she doesn’t know she is dead which is what she needs to know so that she can rest.”
“So are you going to tell me she is lost in space, kind of like that old TV show?”
“In a way she is. The War Child shows that life after death can be as bad or worse than life before death. You may not be aware of it but you have stepped through the illusion of time and space and met the war child.”
I gulped again. “I am not sure I am ready for this.”
“Of course you are, Mr. Divine” replied, matter of factly, “you have been haunted by that mysterious little writing for years. Now is the time for the mystery to be solved. I would like for you fill the reader in on the background of what inspired your war writings.”
“I will try, but this is a very sensitive area with me. I wrote The War Child along with two other pieces in 1988. In addition to my teaching job, and being involved with several extracurricular activities along with my daily jogging and reading, I was also doing some writing. I recall watching the TV mini-series War and Remembrance where Jane Seymoor played a leading role as a holocaust victim.
“I had seen holocaust movies before but for some reason that TV mini-series did a number on me. War and Remembrance was affecting me strongly in ways I could not understand. The title especially haunted me. I called a friend and she suggested that I might try to give voice to my thoughts through writing.
“Is there a single line or two that stands out from the war “writings?”
“Yes,” I said, softly. “Two: Hope is buried beside the dead. And Is there no hope for the human race? War is disgusting. What a disgrace!” Those lines are from another little writing that I lost. But those lines I have never forgotten.
Mr. Divine was looking at me with the kindest expression on his face. Seeing him sitting there so cool, calm and collected in his spider man pajamas while I felt like a seething madman, made me feel like I had just stepped into a virtual reality movie. I took some deep breaths and slowly began to calm down.
“Let yourself experience the feelings that are coming up?” Mr. Divine said gently. “A lot of old memories are being awakened here. They need to come up. How did your story come about?”
During that week I watched the TV war mini-series I started having dreams about this little girl. She was stumbling along a deserted street among the debris and the dead. She sees her mother lying on the ground, blood pouring from her mouth and cries for her to get up. Tears fall down her face as ominous winds slap at her face. She keeps wandering back and forth down this one street, wailing in desperation as she sees so many helpless dead victims.
“The images of the little girl were so vivid that it felt like I was there with her, although I had no idea where there was. When I woke up, I found myself pacing back and forth, almost with the same stride as the little girl. “She has no one to talk to. No one to sing her melodies which bring her joy,” I recall saying out loud. “She has no one to tell her that this must only be a dream.” I would try to forget about her but every night for the rest of the War and Remembrance mini-series I dreamed of her. How I wanted to reach out to her. How I wanted to wipe away the tears streaming down her cold red cheeks. How I wanted to take her in my arms and assure her that everything would be alright. “She deserves a better life,” I would say. Won’t someone take her from this desolate land?
“The last night I dreamed of her she was walking slower down the street with her head hanging down. I woke up with that image in my mind and with tear filled eyes, I wrote in my journal, “The war child walks on with no where to go in her dismal world of war and strife.” Then I knew the men in the white coats were coming for me. The dreams ended but never the memories. To try to come to grips with the powerful emotions the mini-series and dreams generated, I wrote a story which I’m sorry to say got lost in between one of my many moves.
“The War Child haunts me as much now as it did the day I wrote it some seventeen years ago. I found myself at odd times staring into space, glassy eyed, lost and feeling totally helpless to assist this poor little girl, whoever and wherever she was. I had told myself for years that she was just an imaginary person I had created out of my own loneliness and need for company. Still, she haunted me. I talked about her to a few friends and I even went on the Internet and shared the story with total strangers, tears pouring down my cheeks. I could not believe that I had asked total strangers to help me find this little girl. They must have thought I was a real nut case. She somehow took a life of her own beyond the dreams and even the memories because I could never forget about her. I’d go for days or weeks without thinking about her and then out of the blue it would all come back. Sometimes I thought I even felt her presence though I told myself that must surely be impossible.”
We were quiet a few moments then Mr. Divine spoke. “Michael, the war child’s pain calls out to you. Through the miles and through the stretch of time and space she reaches out to you.”
“How can she do that? I don’t even know if she is real or not?”
“She is very real; she is just not alive on the same plane and dimension that you are. Like I said before this is a soul that is trapped between two worlds. She does not believe she is dead, and she will listen to no one who tries to tell her that she is.”
“I should call my friend Victoria. Helping to free earth-bound spirits is right up her alley.”
“She does not care to meet Victoria. She is your case.”
“The only case I think I need now is a case of very strong ale to numb and help me forget about that poor child.”
“You cannot forget about this child.”
“How can this be happening to me? I was feeling so great earlier-so calm and serene and now this.”
“Now this. Welcome to life on the earth. You are an emotional person. You are an Empath. You have always been able to easily pick up on the moods and feelings of others. Since you are also a clairvoyant and medium you are able to perceive energies and souls of people, not only on the earth residing in human bodies, but also souls who are no longer inhabiting physical bodies. You are like a wide open receiver and antenna if you will. Other parts of you are constantly exploring the regions of space and the spirit world. You encounter and meet many souls in your night time dream excursions. In this respect the war child is no stranger to you.
“You have a maternal nurturing side and this is what draws her to you. Humans broadcast their emotions and their true character like radio signals in the ether and atmosphere. Sensitive people can pick up the waves much like a radio frequency. Sensitive spirits can do the same thing, actually much easier than most people, since they are no longer encumbered by the physical body. Since there is no time or space you can move from any moment to another and be back right where you started within moments or even less; more like micro-seconds or quantum leaps as some refer to it. You are learning that I am but a thought away. Although you doubt at times, you are beginning to really look forward to our visits, are you not?”
“I am considered by most people to be a very long distance from here. Heaven, as they reckon it, is even further away than the rainbow or the edge of the sky, or the very earth itself. You are learning to project your consciousness at lightning paces of speed. Thought certainly moves faster than the speed of light. Everyone has a story to tell how they thought of someone and heard from that person that very moment, whether via a phone call, letter, email, what have you. They were communicating on a higher frequency. Telepathy is far more common than you might think; it is especially powerful between a mother and her child, and especially her unborn child. This is why it is so important for a mother to be subjected to as little stress as possible during her pregnancy. She and the unborn child are symbiotically linked very deeply, and both know on a soul level what the other is feeling and experiencing. A child can be marred and damaged for life if his or her mother undergoes extreme emotional trauma during her pregnancy.”
“I can believe that. I am convinced that my baby brother Bradley underwent such damage. Mom was an alcoholic and was horribly abused by my father throughout the pregnancy. He’d tell her he wished she and the baby would die, and he was constantly cursing at her, and beating her. It’s a miracle that she or the baby survived all of that.”
“A tragedy that occurs much too frequently.”
“I am still not over his tragic death in 1997 at the young age of 27.”
“Your brother is with you far more often than you realize. You do visit in dream time and you will meet again in a future lifetime. At least he made it to the light and is in a good place. The poor war child is trapped. It is her own fear that enslaves her but she is trapped nonetheless.”
“Can’t you do anything?”
“I have sent you to help her. My light would overwhelm and scare her but yours will not. If you can remember that there is no time or space or separation of any kind, you will be more able to reach out and respond to her. You need not see her on the physical plane to be able to help her.”
“I know. Victoria tells me that a lot. But I’m still too scared to go to her. Traveling through time and space, even which you say does not exist, may be but a moment or a thought away, but I can’t rush into anything I am not ready for.”
“I understand. I just wanted to give you some insight on what is going on with the war child. You will be able to help her in time. You already do in dream time I might add.”
“Thank you. I will send her prayers, love and healing light, and when I feel ready and capable, I will try to go to her and attempt to set her free even though I am not sure how to do that.”
“You will know what to do and on that note I shall take my leave now."
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