ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

Romance In The Afterlife

Updated on January 30, 2015
LaughingRain profile image

Alysia writes of personal experiences of a paranormal venue. She has one book self published and hopes to write another.

Not A Concert Enthusiast, But...

I raced from the concert seat, taking two steps at a time upwards, ears damaged from the decimal and all peered at my sensitivity but I knew I would hear the ringing the rest of my life and somehow I felt not wronged, but guilty for coming here and was receiving due punishment.

As there were friends who were family who were able to sustain the opening band’s volume without too much discomfort I awaited them outside and browsed the various booths of snack food and tea shirts and trinkets; a carnival had been created here and I wanted only my garden, my books and to reminisce as far back as another lifetime in another body, not endure this mockery of music which had only volume to it’s credit.

But it was not his band that fractured the eardrum and killed the hair cells. It was after all, only his opening band, hoping for recognition and the stardom that he had attained. So many musicians in my day thought volume would hide their lack of talent and refinement of character.

It was never grin and bear it for me. It was just bear it without the grin part.

From afar in the back of the crowd, atop the levy I caught his opening appearance as he scurried to the piano; I thought how short he looked from this distance, then thought his energy seemed a bit harried but maybe he was just trying to tune out the noise of the crowd so he could hear his music and play it. I could see only the top of his head and the side of his face but I would not enter the seating place again for fear the volume would be too much again, however his own band kept it down to a respectable decimal.

Still, his voice did not rise above the instruments, the way I thought it should. I would not be catching any of his nuances that you could hear in recordings.

I began to get bored and wandered up and down the carnival carts. There were many going in and coming out as I weaved through the crowd. I began to people watch and catch the general air of excitement, feeling safe out here, the weather was good, the moon was high and things could be worse.

My attention fastened on a lovely girl in a long skirt with black shoulder length wavy hair, full red lips, natural, not chemically enhanced, and dark eyes with long lashes. She just seemed to walk about with no particular destination. She looked strangely out of place. To this day I believe she stepped out of a parallel dimension for my sake only. Or could she have been myself, come to give me a message from the past? She was material however, there was no doubt about that, just entirely out of place, but then I myself felt out of place too and perhaps there were more than just one of me.

I thought perhaps the young lady is late to the concert and will surely make her way to a seat soon. Anyone here in this area must surely have bought a ticket in order to get through the gates nearby where tickets collected. Surely the gal would not be wasting her ticket by browsing the tee-shirt or pretzel stand at the very beginning of the show. I thought idly, why, she’s wearing long full skirts, the nature of which I had been wearing of late instead of my usual jeans; she seemed like a much younger version of myself although we looked nothing alike and I was perhaps some 30 yrs her senior. It seemed no one else wore long, full skirts like we did, this clothing just wasn’t practical in this day and age.

Laughing, I recalled how when getting into a car my skirt caught in the closing door and a driver had honked and pointed and all had cracked up at the oversight.

Their eyes met briefly and perhaps she saw my admiration before I turned away for fear of appearing rude to stare so. Suddenly the younger woman was at my elbow, seemingly choosing only myself among the many to ask a favor, holding out a small camera and asking if I would snap her photo. Perhaps it was a cell phone with camera built in; this all happened before I even knew that soon everyone would have a cell phone that took pictures. The thought was foreign to me about such an invention even though the turn of the century had just happened. I had to be shown which button to push, the thing was so tiny in my hand. I wasn’t sure for a moment which of us had stepped out of a parallel dimension and who was from the past and who was supposedly modern.

The girl was all a flutter and smiling no end confiding to me that her boyfriend was coming back from the service. If there was a war going on, I knew nothing about it. At any rate she explained they’d broken up by mutual agreement, and what a shame but now had decided to reunite and build a life together. Now he was due to be released from duty soon, and she wanted to send this photo to him by way of inspiration to cheer him up I suppose. She declared that they were to marry. She was so happy she didn’t know what to do with herself. I was amazed a stranger would go on so as if were old confidants.

I thought, goodness, her head is in the clouds. She must be a born romanticist, and I shan’t rain on her parade, but I didn’t believe that marriages in this day and age had a snowball’s chance of surviving the heat on this planet.

I just enjoyed her girlishness and hoped that her dreams of wedded bliss would come true, if not for everyone else, at least for this hopeful girl.

In the background the concert continued into it’s first set, far enough away that we could speak to one another here without raising our voices. She asked me to snap several photos and this I did, then I watched her walk out the gates she had just arrived through and thought where is she going? Did she just buy a ticket only to leave after getting some stranger to snap her photo to send to her boyfriend?

Or…was she not even real and only I could see her? Perhaps, if she wasn’t real, other people couldn’t see her and that’s how she had gotten past them at the ticket booth. She was a non-person to them. That would explain why she didn’t go into the concert and sit down. She wasn’t here for the concert. She was here for me. That seemed too crazy to consider, so I stashed the memory for about 10 yrs, until now I bring it to a blog. Another thing about her was that she was too gorgeous to be real; everyone else looked dowdy and plain next to her. Even her skin glowed slightly in the moonlight.

For another thing, everybody nowadays is taking selfies on their cell phone. If the tiny camera she extended to me was a cell phone slash camera, she could just as well have taken her own picture, albeit not a full body photo as I had snapped of her.

I had to put the encounter from my mind while fervently hoping the young couple would find lasting love together even though they’d called it quits once before, maybe it would work this time. Looking at her happiness, you couldn’t help but join her hopefulness and good spirits even if it were a type of blind love; love was what made the world turn around even when we wished something else would turn the world around.

I hung on the edge there, at last hearing one of my favorite tunes being played.

Much later I encountered strange dreams whereby this particular musician had returned from a war and petulantly asked me why I had drained the pool that he had expected to swim in. I had no answer for him, at least none that would satisfy him. Another dream had me finding dried multi-colored roses, in the same box that a decorated war uniform was stored. Love and war. Signs of our world.

Another dream he had confided to me that I was Penelope, that my husband had gone to war and that I awaited his return for many years, not marrying, just waiting for him, but he had died. Still, I stayed single as none had come close to the love we had known apparently. But that was then, and this was now. Even my friend had confided this as if he did not quite believe it either.

Still yet another time, a poster, that I believed was this musician had penned on the internet a question “are you the loyal type?” I thought at the time, that is none of your business!

I failed to answer as expected, not being the type that can be lead. I had practiced the art of evasiveness to perfection when it comes to being hit on, especially on the Internet which amounts to nothing more to me than talking to a little box with words on it. I still did not believe I was talking to a lover from a past life. It is not easy to believe such a thing. As well, I still believed the young lass I’d met at the concert was blinded by love, although I gave her the right to be so and judged her not. I still found her appearance quite peculiar but was not certain to relegate her to mystical dimensions due to her very real fleshly materialization.

It was clear, if I were Penelope, it was another life, and not this one, and I did not want to be Penelope today. Promises made then, didn’t count in this life. Romantic as it sounded, it was just not going to happen the way I wished it would, or planned it as this entirely different person. Nowadays I was a realist. I seldom dreamed anymore and I was happier for it for reasons I cannot adequately explain here.

However, I still think about her and I wonder where she is, and if her and her young man are married somewhere in some dimension, as happy as can be for having decided to unite once more? And I think about my musician friend. Had we been together once? Had we promised to meet up again? How romantic it sounded, and here I was now, not believing that romance was real, no matter what dimension you live in. It all boils down to that life experiences change a person, that parting the ways is something we do here. We have new lessons to learn. Nothing stays the same as we evolve. And yet I had married and my husband died young. I found love continues even after death.

It exists in good will. I will always see only the good in my lovers, and the good will last forever which is good enough for me. Just a little love will carry you a long way into eternity! Ironically we redefine what love is as a soul matures. We nearly have to lapse into poetry to come close to defining it.

If it lasts forever then love is in the memory from life to life; it can be in the whisper of a cooling breeze on a hot summer day. It can be found in the belief you have in another person, that they will prevail over their problems even if they kill themselves and check out too soon. And if someone leaves you, choosing a pathway that doesn’t include your presence, it doesn’t mean they stopped loving you necessarily because if it’s real, that love you shared lives in your DNA as your experience.

You may not need to re-do an old love affair even though in another lifetime you vowed to do just that. The reason is because you are not the same person that you were. You may reach a plateau that you’re just grateful for being able to feel anything at all in your life. Such as the planet is, it is not easy to stay in love once love has been experienced. Love is never having to say you’re sorry, it’s just understood, the planet is a bunch of experiments going awry on course. The greater wisdom is often in letting go, then holding on. Later, you meet and find out the reason why, and you let that be also.

You never raise your voice to your loved one, all is equanimity at all times, there is no dominance and submission on the higher planes. There is only understanding; which is love. To understand is love. To agree is something entirely different. You can still love, while not agreeing with a person’s behavior. You continue to love, by understanding them. You can understand them from across the street as well as in the same room. A certain kind of love does not need culmination or consummation, it is so far above the earth plane it is not for the general public to grasp.

Marriage can sometimes bring that kind of love to maturation, but not often enough that it is a commonality. If you love someone, you only bring joy to them in your interactions, never striking them with hand, nor with the dagger of the word. That would be a relationship, but that would not be love. And one more noteworthy comment about love, if you are having dreams whereby your lover comes forth to make you feel “less than” by a criticism, or is angry with you within a mere dream, think how angry he or she will be when you actually meet up with them in real life, where the cause for anger is so much greater than in a dream. Thus the reason why, not to re-do a relationship that has been done in another life.

Being hurt, or offended in a dream is far better than having to be hurt or offended in real life circumstances. Dreams can offer warnings in that way, to keep you safe from something you don’t need to re-experience necessarily. However, the good intentions, the good will, it does last forever and ever and cheers the weary traveler here, and hope is always the basis for our lives here as we compare the moments we share here and now, up against eternity itself.

Remember when


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • LaughingRain profile image

      Alysia McAlister 2 years ago from Arizona

      thank you for reading and responding.

    • Venkatachari M profile image

      Venkatachari M 2 years ago from Hyderabad, India

      Very interesting and deeply intellectual article. You have explained the essence and depth of love and relationships so intelligently. Much practical, philosophical and a bit spiritual. Very much insightful and intuitive hub.