It wasn’t until I arrived home inside this body on Earth, that I realized I chattered all the time (up) there.
Why did I chatter?
Nervous, I guess. It was different there, from everything I had heard, and parts were dark, parts were gigantic (the universe), and parts were isolated and lonely. no one met me, but these beings who were not human.
Recalling my time (no such thing s a timeline there) or period spent with non-earth beings, I talked to them, all the time. I had questions, I had loneliness, I had the need to be loved and accepted, I felt singled out and scared that I wasn’t saying the right thing, that I wasn’t being heard, and that I wasn’t in the right place (not like heaven or hell” but truly landed “there, wherever “there” is.” It felt like the tunnels at Disney Parks where the employees pass underground while working. The beings looked at me with huge mysterious eyes, just like alien 👽 eyes.
They inspected my non physical body and my mind. They did not speak using their mouths or voices. Their communication was mind to mind. I picked it up, though I wasn’t necessarily fast in learning. But… I did learn and I held the information well. I applied what I learned. And, I know they were pleased with me because of my abilities to learn.
But, back to the chattering, and this is important, because I often think about this happening, and there are always new understandings about what transpired and why and how… etc.
I noted they didn’t participate in chattering and as I asked my many questions, such as, “why didn’t I have tunnels, lights and angels? Wasn’t I good enough?” They never answered me. In fact, I answered myself and thought they responded. They did not, but they allowed me to think that or think anything that I wanted. They changed non of my questions, nor gave me the answers… why? Well, the answer came much later. The reason they did not respond is because we are in our lives to figure out things alone. Why? Because when we learn it this way, it’s faster, more effective, and our beliefs and knowledge are stronger. They do not interfere for these reasons. And, they are strong, and won’t break the rules.
Now, please know, I had my guide, whom I drew an image of, and he/she (gender unknown), was always supportive and caring, but NEVER gave me an answer, nor told me how to do life. Nope. With the beings eyes, I could sense that I was/am on track with my life and progression.
The chattering is a first dimensional conversation that is formed by nervousness an anxiety. Often, the one ,uttering the words is unaware of their ramblings. It is useless communication except it relieves stress. It might create more anxieties. But, it is the utterances of someone who is experiencing unfamiliar territories, especially in the afterlife.
I was cold and not feeling well about anything. It was early 2019. The fall prior to then was hurried, confusing, filled with nursing exams, and health exams, and to add, I started a new job. A job I thought would last me, the rest of my working career. Orientation was a solid month. Good. I could sit in a chair for 8 hours and learn. I was a good student. I learned to be one at an older age.
The day came when they said, “everyone must have a flu vaccine. If you don’t take it, then you’ll have to wear a mask for 8 hours.” I knew there was going to be a problem. The last two times that I took the damn injections, I was sick. The 24 HR ER became my best friend for both years. The last year that I took it was 2014. I tried to explain that I has asthma and couldn’t wear a mask for 8 hours. That’s insane and besides masks only work for less than 5 minutes. Good grief. A psychiatrist didn’t take it, and we knew she could get away with it and my best nursing buddy there also didn’t take it. She wore the mask around her neck. She never put it on. She had a doctors note. I didn’t. As it turns out, they (neither one) never wore their masks.
And I… got sick from the shot, almost immediately. They said, “can’t wear a mask, then you’ll have to resign.” So, I refused to quit and took the flu shot. The nurse had a handful of injections, maybe 10 or 15. In nursing this is a HUGE NO NO. I let her give me the injection using one of the many drawn up vaccinations.
In two weeks both of my eyes dilated. My primary care physician sent me to an Opthamalogist and I went to my own. Both said, but not my pcp, “you touched a medication without gloves. Your eyes dilated.” That was the stupidest diagnosis I had ever heard in the 22 years of nursing. I had touched multiple pills and never had any reaction for 21 to 22 years. This was bullshit. We wash our hands very quickly. By the way, my pcp knew that was a lame reason labeled to my case.
The days progressed into Christmas, New Years, and on Jan 21, 2019, I resigned. My eyes were still dilated, bilaterally. I couldn’t go outside in the sunlight without sun glasses. I could only work at night. So, I started watching children who were on life support, at night.
On February 8th, that was the last day and evening that I remember. My body had swollen perhaps 15 lbs in less than 24 hours. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t eat. I was sick.
Death; Is It Painful?
How often, I’ve been asked this question or have read it at NDE sites. My answer is truthful and is what I experienced for many hours prior to death. It is unlike many who say that dying was easy. The actual passing over was a breeze, but the dying was not an easygoing event. Nope. Far from it.
Basic anatomy and physiology class begins now as I explain death, as I experienced it.
Being one with chronic asthma and numerous allergies, just never know what’s going to bite you, or poison you. I will take you to my last twenty-four hours, that I can remember.
I worked as a RN one night with a child. The next morning, I left not feeling well. I couldn’t pinpoint what was happening, but I couldn’t breathe and my asthma began to escalate. I drove home with my inhaler in hand.
The Sun was rising and I went to bed. I slept for not to long. My son made a gourmet lunch and it looked wonderful and it tasted well, but I couldn’t eat it. I was nauseated, but couldn’t eat. I was drinking water, lots of it to clear my lungs of mucus that had crept down my esophagus. The water helped.
I went back to sleep and slept until maybe late afternoon and I awakened in the middle of a severe asthma attack. I grabbed my emergency inhalers and used them what seems over and over again. I remember that I had a home nebulizer, so I got up and cleaned it with shaky hands and weakness in my legs. “There, it’s clean. Let me find the packaged medicine.” I found it and cut it open as I am also hooking up the tubing so that I can breathe. I turned it on and started to breathe easier… for a little while.
The time? I don’t know. It was getting later and later.
I got up again to use my machine again. I knew that I had to go to the hospital, but I was tired and getting confused. I suddenly urinated on the floor. “My god! I’ve never done this, ever! What’s happening?!?”
Every breathe that I took was inadequate and the lack of oxygen or deoxygenation or anoxic conditions were getting overbearing. It seemed that the demand for oxygen was intensified by my lungs and the asthmatic medications no longer worked. Every cell in my body was being drained of oxygen. In fact, I probably was beginning to look like a dried prune. The inspirations were draining every cell inside my circulatory system of the oxygen.. it was hungry. It stole mega amounts. I kept peeing on the floor. This is because of the deoxygenated cells. The fluids had to go somewhere, so the fluids (not excess, but my own everyday needed oxygen) were wasted in my urine.
The 10:00 PM news came on and said, “this is the coldest night of the year. There is ice on the roads (in East Texas and that’s scary because we don’t know how to drive on ice) so please stay home.”
Damn it! I picked the worse night of the year to die!
My son walked by my bedroom and I yelled, “call an ambulance, tell them to hurry. I’m dying. I can’t breathe.” I suddenly passed out. It was about 11:30 PM, 2.8.2019.
Oddly, the ER report says, 2.9.2019, 10:32 AM. My son says that what I imagined didn’t happen. He said I spoke to him that morning. Pause and deep recollection by me.
“Nope, I clearly remember the news reporter that evening on 2.8.2019, not 2.9.” I mean, I remember, falling onto my bed and being gone and absent from my body before my head hit the pillow. Gone as in deceased, yet a new day was on the ER report and another story was told to me. Damn, I am either highly confused, or something happened and I was gone a very long time. My journey to the other side was filled with details and it took place over many places and eras of time.
The dying part is horrific, at least in my experience, but the entrance into the other place is phenomenal. It is unlike anything you’ve ever read as it’s impossible to draw an accurate picture as it’s changing all the time. It is also extremely difficult to describe to the exact degree that it was witnessed. There are no dreams, no medications, no afterlife experiences that can accurately describe what is there. It’s impossible, scary, charming, bizarre, and endearing. All in one story,, one experience, in a description that tries its best to tell you whats there. It’s impossible. The English language won’t, and cannot explain the colors nor the liveliness of the entire place that speaks, communicates, laughs and creates together.
Alice In Wonderland is my best explanation of how I felt while visiting. But, to get to that place, once again, takes death. We all we do it. Everyone of us will pass through the entrance alone.
“Today, my dearest mother, Bonnie Jennings, was taken from and given back to us. What began as severe chest congestion last night ended up in respiratory arrest this morning.
Accordingly, she went without oxygen long enough that her heart stopped beating. Chest compressions and CPR were not restarting her heart. In the ambulance, approximately 15 minutes after her heart had stopped, they were able to defibrillate her and start her pulse again. CPR was given by EMS for over an hour.
She has severe pneumonia and is at UT Health Center in Tyler, TX. She is on enough propofol to keep her unconscious to avoid agitation and prevent her from ripping out her breathing tubes.
Mom, I love you. “ My son addressed FB on my behalf. This was his note. February 9, 2019
Oddly, I only remember the late of the evening, February 8th. My world was fuzzy. The deoxygenated brain cells left me with the condition of anoxia or anoxic brain disorder. However, now, I am doing so well. This is an absolute miracle. Yes. It is.
Now, back to the 8th of February, before my son moved away, one evening, I got up my courage an asked what happened. It was because all I could remember was the 8th, and peeing on the floor. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I saw my son walk by and he stays in the other end of the house. I told him to call 911 and that I was dying. Now I remember it was the coldest night of winter 2019 for East Texas. Ice was expected, and I thought, why would my body have to ch oose tonight out of all the nights in the year. We weren’t in town, and Texans don’t know how to drive on ice, so why did I choose tonight. Totally inconvenient.
My son said, we had some of that conversation, but it was in the morning. I don’t remember the morning of February 9th. The hospital records state I was taken to the ER at 10:37 AM. So, where did the night go? I asked myself. Just vagueness is upstairs now.
This whole time and episode has really troubled me because of my memories ended late February 8, 2019. My nursing friends have explained to me what happened to my brain 🧠 with deoxygenated (anoxia) cells, and my memories. And, this is exactly what “the others” told me while I was visiting on the other side.
If you want to know who and what “the others” are, then follow me to Chapter 2 or 3.
Here… I must tell you that in my experience, I didn’t have a tunnel, lights, family there nor friends, and there were no angels with wings.
I was in ICU, my lungs were intubated, a tube was down my nose in order to be fed, and a urinary bag was in place. I had zero memory of any of the tubes being placed within me and had I have known, I would have said, “no.” I am a RN and have inserted a few. I know the discomfort and of the intubation have. I had oxygen going, and IVs filled with a cardiac drug that I am allergic to, and antibiotics for pneumonia and something for status asthmaticus. The cardiac medication, I saw hanging, I tried to tell them, “I cant take that! I am allergic!” They heard me a few days later after I had swelled hugely. The medication did that to me on a regular dose.
I thought I was talking, but I wasn’t for a day or two. It’s so confusing. I heard my sister say, “It’s not your time. Mother told me. You need to come back.” My mother is deceased, but my sister connects all the time with her, and I believed her. She also said, “You, better come back. There’s no one who will take care of your animals.” I had 6 at the time. Still, I was far away. Her words were very faint. My children said the same to me. “Come home mom, it’s not your time.”
Meanwhile, in my afterlife heaven, I am arguing with someone’s. They were real to me, I knew who they were, but I never saw them until later. I am angry with my death circumstance. I was saying to them, “I am a good person. I deserve having a tunnel, lights, angels and family and friends meet me!”
The “others” didn’t say a word. They allowed me to carry on for quite a while. I heard myself and my arguments. Looking back, I think how. “Really, Bonnie?” Geez, no one deserves anything. I am so sorry for my poor behavior. I also can tell you the number one lesson that I learned is this.
We are only given…This Moment. That’s all we have so becoming happy, or controlling depression, it becomes easier if we only understand, the only time we are promised is right now. That’s it.
Once I understood the above physical law, I was able to proceed with my experience. It was at the next few moments they instructed me on “why you didn’t remember your experience.” They gave me a mathematical equation or algebraic expression that went like this:
Earth’s time + oxygenated atmosphere = memories of life and existence here.
Without oxygen, memories are gone, lost to Earth times, and the people who remain. Anything written, spoken, recorded, photographed, touched are links to The Earth, but not guaranteed for any kind of communications after lives cease. The connections in the future would have to have an oxygen link. As far as mediums, I am only telling you what I learned. I have been a medium for a few in the past; however, I am not sure how the connections were made unless (my reasoning) the objects touched, held or owned had oxygen involved. This idea also blows my mind.
I also, have assumed, that the after life has numerous places, levels (some are still oxygenated because they are close to Earth’s atmosphere), dimensions, houses as Jesus said, mansions as Jesus said, and many parallel or same dimension places as we are in mow.
For instance, a friends father died one night, before I knew he had died, he came in the middle of the night and shook my arm. He told me to get up and follow him. He went into our den. He saID, “I had to come say goodbye. I have a lot of places to go and many to visit, but I wanted to tell you goodbye.” I said, “well, thank you.” As I said that he floated to the top of the ceiling and disappeared. That’s when I suspected he was gone, deceased. The next day, I was told that he died that night, the night he awakened me.
The point is this, he was still in the atmosphere of the Earth and was able to communicate with a sensitive person. Me. I was thankful for the visit. I know that he was among us still. To bring someone back, one would have to bring a soul back into the atmosphere of oxygenation. Memories that people have and can manifest the soul.
After my vigorous complaining to the ones who listen and don’t respond… There was no response from them, but there was an instantaneous transformation to my heaven or my afterlife. There was no tunnel, no lights, no angels or loved ones. I was just suddenly standing in a very odd place. I knew that I was deceased.
A black round disk came into view from a distance and moved right in front of my feet. It was solid, black, round and extremely dynamic to me. I didn’t know what it meant accept a fellow NDEer told me that it sounded like a Dharma Wheel. I looked up a Dharma Wheel definition and images. Yep. That’s what I saw. It was my past, present and I would create my future. The future would be dependent on everything that I learned prior to this life and my life just lived.
I looked at the black wheel that had rolled up to me from the distance. It seemed to have come through dry sands at this place. When it came to rest and stopped it was huge, like a monolith structure. It was solid black and it had a sliver cut from it on the lower SE corner. I wondered if this represented my entire life and the sliver was where I was now, or was I at the end… I questioned my life plan. No one answered me, but me. I was alone. I looked at it over and over because I knew the sliver meant that I had not finished my life, or I had a little life left to live.
Suddenly, I was standing before or near a tall lean Asian man who wore a straw hat. I looked at him as he had a long pole in his hands. He was stirring something. In the distance I watched volcanoes erupting and saw the red lava leak down the mountain into the red river of blood and brains that the Asian man was stirring. I gasped.
“Am I in HELL!” Panicking, I asked The man. He kind of gently chucked bad said, “No, you are at the cleansing pool.” He was not wordy or someone who had to be seen. He was wise and quiet. “The Cleansing Pool?” Said I. “Yes. I am stirring brains and blood from those with bad or negative thoughts.” He spoke kindly and directly to me. His eyes were very wise. He could have been my mother. “Oh,” I responded. “Why are you stirring them?” “Everyone must be clean before they can ascend. All negative thoughts and emotions must be washed before you can go on any further.” He kept stirring. I asked if it would hurt. He said, “Did you feel anything?” I replied, “no, I felt nothing.”
With that response, I ascended to the next place,
Chapter 4 The Dirt
The Trip to the dirt was in less than a moment. Suddenly I was there with someone. I never saw their face and I don’t know who they were or their sex. They were teaching me rapidly.
I was barefooted on the dirt of The Earth. Also, I must say that in my death experience I looked like a picture of myself taken about 4 or 5 years ago. I was around 62 then.
Back to my NDE, the someone took a handful of dirt and put it in my hands. For the first time, I saw dirt in a new way. The quantum physics way. As the dirt sifted through my fingers, the mineral properties illuminated. As they fell back into the dirt, the particles began to sparkle their true colors. The golds were intensely golden and the grains, individual, seemed to be magnified as I looked and saw each tiny piece. The silvers were shiny, sparkly, and as they slipped through my fingers with every type of particle on the atomic calendar. The bacteria’s, viruses and the living bits of Earth were ever-present as I watched like never before. Beneath my feet, and our feet, there are other billions of worlds. The quantum universes were there, alive, illuminating their space and I knew the, what I had always wondered, are there layered universes and the answer is/was yes. Beneath us is an unending world such as The Fibonacci Code signifies. The worlds spin smaller and smaller and what is microscopic to you and I, is another world. I was utterly awed and so thankful to see and learn what I had always wondered. The being showed me without and words and amazing existence.
Chapter 5. Earth’s Relics
When the dirt’s truthful formations completed, instantly I was at the relics of The Earth. I believe we started with Egypt. The Pyramids. I examined the hieroglyphs by running my fingers over the images. I sensed the meaning, that I don’t remember now, unfortunately. I touched the grandness of the large structures as I walked alone with the warm winds blowing ever so hauntingly insightfully. I knew that I had walked among the relics when they were formed. They were familiar like a home.
So was The Sumerian Tablets. I touched and read.
In Peru, I visited the wonderful place and I think I was flying like a bird over looking the Andries Mountains up to Mexico.
The Temple Of Kukulkan or Mayan Temple was our place, I believe though Mexico has 7 known pyramids, we visited one and I believe it was this one. There, once again, I touched, read and knew the feeling of belonging.
We ended in Samaria. There were the tablets. They asked me to read them aloud and I did so. I was so pleased with the reacquaintance to all the history, structures and tablets. I was satisfied.
Then, they said, “you must move forward . With that, we were off.
Chapter 6. The Hard Chapter To Explain
Every chapter begins with suddenly. Suddenly I am in a room that I now call an office. It was dark and there was an illuminated long sleek desk. Sitting casually and comfortably behind the desk were 5 (I think that was the number) extraterrestrials.
I was calm and unafraid. They were kind, reserved yet warmly inviting, and patiently pleasant.
I felt that I was being interrogated, but they weren’t mean, hateful, or Lucifarian. I knew they knew me from the past.
I asked the question, “are you our humans DNA?”
And without hesitation, “yes. We are.”
I wasn’t surprised and felt comfortable with the answer. I knew that I wasn’t being given any untruths and the answer sat Inside my being as truth. These were my relatives and I was home.
The personalities of these alien ETs is unlike humanity. We, humans, are mammals, and they are not. The mammals are warm and friendly to their tribe and offspring (usually) and they, ETs, are not. The are not warm and cuddly, nor are they impatient. They will honestly wait “forever,” if its needed. They don’t jump into help us, unless it serves them, nor do they pat someone on the back and say, “well done.” They are not mean, but their lack of help or “non-interferences” are seemingly, unkind when struggling for help. They do appreciate good humor, pleasantries, good manners, kindnesses, and gentlemanly behaviors from humans. I say gentlemanly because they regard us as one, male and females. We are the ones who made the difference and separated the species into good and better. This is also true with our religions. It was our desire to have such kingdoms in place and they let us do our mammal things. Kings, rulers, monarchies, dictators, murderers, rapists, zealots, faithful, righteous, thieves, snakes (that we gave a slanderous hateful assigned character to) and the rich and poor. The character types, humans named and made because we were part mammal and alien. The aliens or ETs don’t have such beliefs, but they didn’t stop us. No, they let us do what we wanted, even if, the acts were cruelties to one another. The ETs would let us fight out our own battles and worlds as we were the new species, and had to learn as we go without their interferences.
My interview was over and theirs with me… for this moment.
We ascended. We were in the galaxy way above Earth. We were in another office, in a ship, way out in space. There, in that room they handed paper to me printed on the numerous pages were binary codes. They told me to read them and I told them the I could not read binary codes. They looked at me and I knew they meant, we can stay here a lifetime or forever. Read the codes. So… I guess that I did or didn’t. After the forever or eternity waiting on my reading, they threw the paper on the floor of the ship to be burned. Okay, I thought.
Here, I must tell you the binary codes are used to time travel. If someone needed examining or help, which they don’t do often, they used binary codes to find the person, the time, the date, the whereabouts or the location coordinates. The binary codes gave all that information in a parallel world or worlds. They were active and on board. The binary codes used dark space and matter to work efficiently.
Next … the star charts. Yep. I read them! I was thrilled! And off we went to Pleiades and then The Orion’s Belt. We visited.
I said, “please, don’t take me any higher, I’m afraid of heights.” And, with that statement… we were off into the outer parameters of the universes.
Chapter 7 The Universes; The Baby Bundle
The meetings with the ETs ended and the back door to the spaceship opened (this was my imagination, I really didn’t see this scene in my NDE, but felt this happened). It was as if I was clear to wander the universes on my own.
Meanwhile, I kept asking where my family were, the deceased ones and my deceased friends. They kept reminded me … “there is no hurry. You have an eternity.” So, I accepted that and went forward. I also asked about my deceased pets. They didn’t show up either, but they (the ETs, I suppose, I didn’t see them say this, but I assumed that it was them) reminded me I had an entire eternity to see and meet all people and pets. “Don’t be in such a hurry. There is plenty of time.”
“Okay, Okay,” said I.
Off I went into the universe. I passed stars, nebulous,’ galaxies, oddities, planetary systems being built and designed, and I saw a great deal of happiness going on about me. The universes were vibrating lovely conversations and songs. It echoes throughout the space. There is a great deal of laughter, and extreme joy.
I got to the edge of the universes (plural) and watched while sitting on the side of a planet like the Moon is to Earth. I saw what I called The Elohim (Hebrew word meaning the plural of god) making a nebulous. To me this was The Grand God or Creator. This entity, alive and full of energy, creativity, light, joy, and constantly making and creating is moving about waving its wands creating creating creating worlds, galaxies, nebulous,’ and so forth. The Elohim does not tear apart, does not condemn, does not rip apart and doesn’t send anyone to Hell.
In fact, I never saw a place named Hell, hades, the under world or any place of punishments. If there is a place, it was not shown to me. If there is a place, it is between oneself and karma. Here, I will say that what I understand is this…there is not devil, satan, demons, or devils. The evils in this world are within each of us. This is why karma (or another appropriate name) is appropriate. Reaping and sewing says we go to god and ask for forgiveness and we are totally forgiven. Karma says, yes you can ask for forgiveness and should, but your punishments are put into place by the individual. The consequences are played back much like a swinging pendulum. You started the action, the action must be paid back. The pendulum swings, then it swings to the other side until the whole of all learning experiences are learned. When all lessons are learned, then we can say, we are like a god. We know and understand all things because we have lived them. We will not remain ignorant. We will be poor, rich; beautiful, ugly; white, black; etc, etc…we will know murder, and the life of a saint. We will be able to answer any question that is asked of god or gods.
Now… my journey, sitting on the side of the planet saw the Fibonacci designs growing, forming and making the babies bundle that holds the universes together. The plants spoke to me and I to them. I felt like Alice in Wonderland. The plants were very busy and told me that had to get back to work. The also showed me a picture, that I drew and it shows the universes in the upper left lung of a form. The inside of the body looked human. I am a RN so I recognized the insides and it looked human. I was told to never leave the upper lobe of the cavity holding the universes. Because if we went outside this area, then we would travel alone and no one ever returns. Hmm 🤔 thought I. Others had been here before?
When I was there, I say this carefully because someone once misunderstood my sayings, up high looking over the entirety of the incredible space, and all the structures of planets, stars, suns, moons, comas, lights etc, there was a male presence with me. It wasn’t the one in the picture that I drew. He was most kind, happy, joyful, friendly, kind, imaginative, delightful, and was there to answer any of my questions. He didn’t interrupt any of my pleasures of watching. He was so happy that I was happy. I felt like this might be Christ… but I am not sure.
I kind of asked about Yeshua and what I asked was who was he, and was he real. The answer came back to yes, he’s real, but misinterpreted. Furthermore, he was/is a man who was filled with love, who came to teach us only about love, and only spoke about love. The Christ sent was dramatically transformed into a human toy that was used to hate, manipulate, to steal and mislead others who are not in a position to defend self against such ploys of the controllers, manipulators and or the corrupt. This was not the intentions of The Christ.
At some point very quickly, I was ushered back to my life on earth. As my teaching about Jesus Christ ended, I heard his last commandment. “Faith, hope and love, and the greatest is love. Never forget this! It is the glue that will hold humanity together! It’s the only thing that last! LOVE! You must spread this above all this. This is the final and last commandment. LOVE!”
Like an echo coming backwards the word LOVE came with me as I traveled faster than the speed of light back into my body. I had a hard time talking, knowing what had happened…
I want to thank my friend who is an Art Therapist for encouraging me to draw what I saw and it took a great deal of therapy to get me to draw. Thank you, Shelley Cannon-Fredrick. If you hadn’t of stayed diligently encouraging me, I never would have drawn the pictures of my journey. So, thank you. All NDEers need an Art Therapist.
Our minds, thoughts, words, feelings, emotions, vibrations etc… will produce our world of conscious existence. In essence, we do create or manifest our universe of time and space on planet Earth. But, apart from manifesting to create wealth or health or comforts, let’s for right now stay with the basics of creation. On February 9, 2019, I was in my afterlife existence. Having been gone for 30 plus minutes (and mind you, there is no time in the afterlife) was immediately taken to a wonderful cloud of existence and there I sat watching what I called “The Elohim” (a Hebrew word that is god in the plural form) making a gloriously beautiful nebulous. I learned there on that cloud, that our “god” was plural, was a creator and not a destroyer, and joyfully made all existence, including me. Those harmonious spectrums of lights created even the things and mammals that humans call and label deformed, malfunctioning, not right, gay, black, white, yellows and reds, and made all of it in such utter joy and never looked back and said, “OOPS, I made a mistake.” Nope. That never happened. Our creators are so pleased with all of their creations, that one cannot imagine any conflicts or reorganizations at all. If there are punishments, and that I didn’t see or hear, then they are carried out by other gods. The Elohim only creates and nothing more. So, how does this relate to our understanding and enlightenments? If we free the mind from all binding doctrines that tell us to do this or that in such away, then, we can know that we are created in love, with a magnificent creator. To add, any legalistic doctrines, merely bind us and entrap our souls. That is not The Elohim. This I can promise you. You are free to love yourself. Love you. When you love you, then you free the pathway to love others. No longer will others be labeled by negative thoughts or terminology. We set them free when we are free. When the conscious is unchained and unleashed, it can and will set others free. Our minds are powerful because the state of our consciousness is free or ~it’s trapped. The trapped state is also powerful, and we see this occurring daily. It is better to free others than to enslave them.
WE CONTROL OUR CONSCIOUS journeys. Or, I should say, we can control if we put our minds to the task.
These are additional notes as I continue to awaken. I am chatting with another NDEer and we are contemplating our beliefs regarding the Covid Crisis.
“Okay my understanding of Karma and the Akashic records is this.
Number one “karma” the word introduced by The Vedic religious group from the Hindis
It is the word that I use and this is because The Vedics are the most accurate source for understanding life, living, and death.
But the word Karma is not right or correct. I don’t know the right word so I go with Karma.
Getting past that, karma is not a god handing out punishments. It is not any spiritual being charging anyone to a sin or good thing.
It is our internal scoring system that records our lives. The entire period here. For every + another + can occur and for every – then another – of the same strength will occur.
As we get to the end of our lives the pendulum that is moving with our karma and it attached to The Akashic records, goes across the board one time, that represents one life. When it goes back again, another life of some kind.
The Akashic records keeps track of all our lives and the records of the karmic debts and attributes.”
Asked about why death experiences are hard to explain, I began by saying this… “
💭 new thought, another conversation
For me, when I am explaining my experience, it is hard to find or put into any language on earth 🌍 the experience, as the experience is not linear. Their is no time. Everything is now or can be changed and into whatever you imagine. Time is not anything that compares in that other dimension. This is the first reason.
When I wrote my rough draft, I realized when writing it that it wasn’t exactly like what I was writing. That is because my rough draft needed a relevant pattern of events. What happened first, second, third… etc. in my death experience, this can’t be explained like this. This rimes pattern of first, second, third doesn’t exist.
I still don’t know what exactly happened first, second or third so I put my story into a pattern that makes since now in this world.
Secondly, the events of happening are not solids or materials like here. The materials are of other dimensions, maybe 5 or 6. You can hold a mathematical word equation and it’s powerful force, that of an eternal creators, comes alive. Everything is alive, is real, is on another dimension that is not anything like earths. If your not a mathematical genius, then you’re not going to be able to explain the patterns or dimensions. Everything is alive. Everything communicates..
This is the beginning of my explanation”
Hello, during my death experience, I was handed binary codes to read and interpret for the non-human, alien types.
A large book was handed to me and I was given it to read to them and tell them what it says. I don’t know anything about binary codes; however, I must have read them.
But, the most important thing to remember about the encounter was the fact the codes were handed to me in a large book. I placed it on a counter in front of me and opened it looking at 000100111 for thousands of pages. It meant nothing to me so I kept telling them.
Today I knew why the codes were handed to me in a book. First of all, last year it was explained to me there, the codes are used to tell them, where a being is in the universe and the times they are in. For instances, I was born in 1952 @ 0600 AM in New Orleans La, USA CST on a certain day. Well all of that is coded in binary type codes and the codes tell them how and where to get to us, if so needed. This I figured out then, but today, I came to the knowledge that because the codes were on paper and in a book form, it represented universal traveling, and we all know, if we bend the universe, travel times change dramatically. I didn’t pick this up then, but I know now, they were waiting to see if I caught it and if I was fast thinking. I guess not.
So, saying the above, it makes further sense to know that when we bend times whether on Earth of Saturn or anywhere, we must take all existence back to one single spot where it begins, exists and ends. One spot. The quantum experience takes on a little of the universal truths and we have so much more to explore.
I always say, that we are ants 🐜 in the universe shared with other universes and yet part of the big spot of the beginning, the now and the end. Then what…
Quantum times is/are the entire encompassing of the universes (plural) with equations of symbols and numbers that include every moment in the past, it the now and in the future/futures of every material being, human, animal and plants, sands and dirts, waters etc… of all from a stretching field latitudes, longitudes, forward, back, under and above including mid-through of all times ahead and back into one simple moment, the quantum moment.
Hi Axel. My experience was cosmic, but there were no spiritual messages or religious “mysteries” attached to my death experience.
But, parts of your presentation rings true as we do live over and over and we are part of the entire universes (plural).
The higher and higher ascension that you speak of is not entirely correct as we humans have glorified these ideas for other men so they will seek this path. However, we are on this road whether we glorify it spiritually or not. We are on an adventure and we linger here-there and go down-up, sideways and back and forth yet time doesn’t exist as we know it.
We are part of an enigma and part of the energy equations that are available for this universe perhaps not the others.
When the god-like form moves, from which we are apart, what happens to us? It unknown. How about when it dies? Then, I suppose we die too.
My understanding post death experience February 2019.
I have my own theories after experiencing over 30 minutes in the death state.
I drew some pictures of my thoughts to try to explain.
Number one, I learned during my NDE, if there is no oxygen present (around cells) there are no memories. Because
Earth+O2 =memories (they taught me when I was there)
Once the soul has passed through the pineal gland (in a regular death not in a decapitation, but regular) and has passed through the DMT in the bodies lining, the soul escapes and our memories cease as we know them now while in a body.
There is a place like “the void” that houses our souls. When we awaken (with oxygen) we begin to awaken and think again. We want what we remember as we are attached to the body whose DMT we are connected to because of oxygen.
We have been here having numerous bodies. We are part of the bodies whose DMT remains, otherwise, we would seek housing elsewhere.
The soul wants a home whether human or other. The Petri dish is not as comforting as a warm body.
Each DMT whether animal, produce, human or any other has its own characteristics and our spiritual energies try to find the right fit.
The spirit is part of a large vacuum system that blows out instead of in as it blows up a living force with energies and life.
A message from a year ago.
Caroline Rosie Dent
Well your question is similar to the one that I keep asking and I am given a little information at a time.
So here goes… there are different levels and types of dying right? Some deaths are rapid and are perhaps like loosing a head, or heart and is unsurvivable because of the body part separation. This we know is immediate death. This is a level of death non of us have survived. So non of us know.
Then there are traumatic experiences such as moving vehicle accidents, or abrupt experiences where the body and soul are in limbo. The soul and spirit hang around the body after the accident for whatever reason it does. Some of those spirits leave immediately for whatever reasons it decides. These beings that return are actually in limbo between life and death. It is because there is enough bodily fluids (containing oxygen and other electrolytes) that are still active (ions and energies don’t die but await for movements to another dimension or place) around and inside the body that gives a possibility of living or having life once again.
Because the oxygen and electrolytes don’t die but move or find another place or dimension to go into (such as an orb or another home or being to become apart of) there are restless moments (adrenaline flowing rapidly at death) that the human energies must attach or become connected to something else in the earths atmosphere. Remember that electrolytes are not the soul or spirit. They are the energies or electric forces of energies the body contained while on earth.
Within these energies, oxygen is among its properties and is a source for the energies to lay comfortably and positively ignite (wrong word) or become active.
When this energy is around a deceased person (or a body in a higher level of totally decapitated living) there are enough pods of energies containing oxygen that keep the body remembering or experiencing a form of living (called death).
Example of degrees of death… So when I say that I died from asthma, respiratory failure and cardiac arrest, I had no oxygen. Asthma depletes, respiratory arrests further depletes and cardiac arrest further eliminates oxygen in the red blood cells then (for example) my experience would be without oxygen and the energies (the electrolytes) would not be as active causing less earthly memories. My level was extremely close to permanent death. The layers were dissolving and earths elements for living or having life were depleted more and more.
Once a person has lost the elements of energies and of oxygen the person is closer to permanent death. (This opens another mysterious idea or possibilities for the human beings to consider) and saying this means there are different levels or layers of death. We are in a parallel dimension.
Anyway I want to thank you for the question. I had to think about this very intently. I hope that I haven’t confused anyone any further. I am still getting responses about this as well.
Thank you. And to add…
Caroline Rosie Dent Once the oxygen flowed my NDE memories began. They (whomever they are) turned on my memories. Oxygen flowed from a nasal cannula. Wham! The experience began and I was unable to turn it off for many days. I became tired from the excursions that my mind, thoughts, human experiences were then experiencing. I couldn’t turn it off. This went in for greater than eleven days. I counted eleven but I am unsure due to the anoxia (brain without oxygen) that I was/am still experiencing.
It is oddly peculiar the beings in heaven showed me a record like an old 45 record player disc. It was black and circular. It had a sliver (pie shaped) cut taken out of the end of it. The pie shaped cut was my actual death experience. In that area there were no earthly memories. Nothing that earth recognizes as familiar or understandable. Nothing was read or comprehended or translated to our earthly language. What I experienced was in the dark matter (the unknowns) on earth
I wrote this in 2018, before my death experience and it was a reflection of my spiritual beliefs.
Sunday October 7, 2018
When we die. We are a born
I came to this conclusion today two days before my 66th Birthday. And my conclusions capitalized on no religious beliefs. It is what it is, my own beliefs and you aren’t being forced to believe this nor being brainwashed. It is the thoughts of death and life, lessons learned and not, envies of the gifted and the inabilities to achieve the fondest wishes and dreams, the birthing in a path of Saturn and mars, and having either Sagittarius or Capricorn on the horizon and so forth of the bending dynamics of the celestial universe and the vibrational platitudes it lends to all living and unliving things. After all, rocks have different reverberations that are recorded in scientific research somewhere. Death is life is death is life and so forth. It is continuous. The pleasant births or non of new borns, show the rascals have more incredible knowledge than you could have ever taught. No matter the ups or downs, no matter how poor or wealthy, no matter how sane or not, each being comes again and again. Each time becoming the quandaries, the questions, the dislikes, the desires, the hopes or the despairs of the previous experiences. Sometimes the soul becomes a celebrity or wealthy. We will all experience every path there is until living is complete. Those questions that linger from previous existences becomes the new driving manifestation of the new birth and new life.
No one ever said to Yeshua, if it’s appointed to man to die once, how many times must he live?
October 20, 2020. I awkened from sleep and was told to write this. Sorry for the mispelled words as I wrote in the dark and quickley so I wouldnt forget. I will edit soon.
Time does not exist off The Earth as the majority of us understand. Does time truly exist on Earth? The day and night, the seasons and the circadium rhythms gave us something to measure and so we used it and created our standard tenty-four (24) hour day. However, I want to define off Earth time or no time.
What if time could be described as a dot, one dot such as a pencil dot with some large dots and some smaller and the size doesn’t matter. However, within each dot is a lifetime and/or one (1) second of Earth time, but all of it within the dot equals one event, happening, smile, tear, season, centenial or whatever you remember and all is within that moment.
What if I told you the reasons why human (invention of jets) have a comtrail due to our time and our perseptions, perpulsions in velocity; however, the UFO (keeping typing minimal using abreviations UFO it is simply unidentified, but obviously, not of this Earth) has no comtrail and makes no sound. Why does this happen? The reason has to do with time. Their time versus human time. Time changes everything and how we see it.
In the afterlife, there is no time, so what does that mean to music or hearing one sound? Because music and noise is laid out on a timeline and music uses time. It places 4/4 or 2/4 times and many more examples, but its time. It rhythm, beat and its all time and time off Earth, does not exist. So, in the afterlife a timeline of music or anything else doesn’t exist. Then why are people reporting they hear “heavenly music?” Well, number one, it could be our imaginations, or two, it could be that time is pressed into trillions of dots as I was explaining in the first paragraph. All the dots appear as if nothing is going on and time isn’t happening … unless… you move closer into the atmosphere and energies of the dots. Each dot has its own vibrational rhythms, magnetics and movements in gravity.
Time is stored in nbullions and trillions of dots and where you are in the afterlife is where you placed you. Imagination, wishes, and desires come true when connections to the dots of entire lives of times on Earth. Your energies, within you, automatically connect your being using specified vibrations and magnetics to your source of being or enlightenments. You are plugged into your comfort zone. This is another topic, so I will hold back for now.
So, what about other planets? The same theory would hold true there on that surface and atmospheres, as well, except they have their own clock of sun rising and setting, moons arising (setting many times on one planet), seasons (theirs, not measured by Summer, Winter, Fall nor Spring and by circadian rhythms of sleep measurements). On another planet do you sleep 8 hours like on Earth, or there about, or 100 years, as in their day? I don’t know. I guess it would be determined if we are humans, or not, and our requirements regulated by the planets magnetics and vibrations.
Now what about the UFO that left no contrails, nor made any sound, and travelled making 90 degree turns at unimaginable speeds *time, moments perceived by humans, and witnessed or presumed seeing. All of it recorded in Earths time, but in reality, it’s the UFO’s staff beings or aliens, reality and those on it have their own conceptions of time and force, and magnetics. For they are not bound to Earth time as they remain in their own. So, they are overlapping dots, The can control their craft because they remain in their own times and maneuvering and touch our existence quickly. Kind of like time traveling, In and out, very rapidly to not change the history nor their futures. zip in and out using the dots to overlap the universe making distance shorter and time irrelevant.
This is all for now
Hi xxxxx, I might have answered your question before, but here goes my own answer through my own experience.
I am no longer a ” believer” in any traditional faith. I have my own and I don’t proselytize it. It’s only important to me.
Your experience or thoughts about ” heaven” or what I refer to as the afterlife, are not judged by anyone but you. You aren’t going to ” hell” because you don’t believe any dogmas crammed down your throat over the years.
It’s my discovery from having my TDE or temporary death experience of 30+ minutes (with a brain injury now) that we are like little ants 🐜 on a mound and the brightest one sees 2 feet away.
No worries. No judgements allowed, please. You are on your adventure like all the rest of us.
I want to share my opinion, right now, could change, that religions came from the alien sources, so we originally adapted theirs, but humans twisted the dogmas of alien beliefs into their systems.
Religions aren’t bad, nor is believing in something supernaturally powerful and godlike, wrong. Humans need leadership as they asked god for ”a king” and God gave them Saul. So the gods gave us their beginnings as our own and we changed their scriptures to neet the needs of we, who are of mammal DnA 🧬
My thoughts post TDE on
I just wrote this in the middle of the night, this evening.
Time passed Earth
We, NDEers, speak of no time off earth and so what does this mean?
Time is applied to earth’s seasons, and the rising and setting of the sun. The Solstices of summer and winter owning the longest and shortest days of the year. These facts govern time.
However, off Earth, the Sun rises and sets in a much different matter of times. The size of Earth and the distance it is from The Sun makes its own ways possible and conceivable. We understand this as we’ve lived the patterns every day of our lives. However, if we left here, our timelines would vary and change on every comet, planets or stars, moons, nebulous’ in the entire universe. The visual effects would resemble a covering made up of geometrical patterns with physics, astronomy, cosmic energies, geological analysis and patterns and it would continue for ever. Much like our imaginations of the Matrix of existence.
We live on earth with rhythms, beats, time, and musical vibrations of it’s own way and kind. On another planet, music would seem slowed of perhaps faster due to the rising of the sun ☀️ or solstices.
If one is in space without reverberations, time, rhythm and beats would be off from what we know now.
If one had an NDE and has music like here there are two different ideas that come to mind. Number one. They are still connected to Earth time. Meaning their afterlife experience took place within Earth’s times Mf its line of recording.
Or, two, the music was conjured inside a persons psyche. The person carries the melody with them. It’s memory is manifested.
My guess for this phenomenon.
Words such as eternity, forever, etc have no meaning post Earth. So this makes me think that “heaven” is earthbound. I don’t think of this in a bad way, it’s simply the location of it.
But in the afterlife, eternity has no meaning.
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
In 1998, after spending 25 years of calling myself a “born again Christian,” (1973) my actual accepting of the term and proudly wearing their banner, decided to move onward to a new belief adventure in 1998.
As a child (before 1973) in 1962 I attended The Episcopalian Church with my mother and father and thank god we never beat people’s spirits down to make or cause them to believe in Christ. We never significantly or proudly boasted, “I led this one to the lord.”
No Episcopalians are cool and unpretentious and I should have remained one as they are less tiring and wearisome on others peacefulness. However, I am far past their teachings now and into my own beliefs and I am content.
But… onward I forged by myself exploring all little crooks and crannies that I was told, “don’t go into that place. Demons are there!” And they (the ones saying this crap) growled worse than any demon could do so. Some of those Christians were and are pretty scary. Yes they are and I was once just like them. I didn’t like me then.
I am glad that Christ is nothing like that. In my recent death experience, the being that might have been him (Christ) was behind me while on my journey through space and the galaxies into the universe and universes. He, if it was him, sat joyfully telling The Elohim how to place the nebulous in the universe. He was like an interior designer of the entire outside space. He was extremely happy and laughed a lot. If this was Christ He didn’t jump out there and say, “praise the lord… you better believe in me or else.”
Nope. The happy fellow was humble, trusting, not pushy, kind, non accusatory and very comforting. He was very much unlike any church other than The Episcopalians. He’s far from their (church goers) appearances or behaviors. I think he’s happy with the Episcopalians though. I think that he is most like them, if he identifies with any church organization.
Now in 1998, I went back to the things that I grew up with and loved.
Number one: astrology. Gods map of vibrational forces throughout the earth compared to the solar system.
FYI about astrology, you realize that once we are off the earth and time stops 24/7 then the heavenly vibrational forces change. Astrology changes and a new unknown measurement begins again.
Now I will take you off my beaten track to a story about aliens. Please stay with me on my journey.
A Christian therapist led me on a regression or a hypnotic therapy session. It was many years ago (late 1950’s) that I was haunted by visions of beings who visited my father (a mechanical engineer who designed missiles, rockets and ammunition) during the Vietnam War. They, the beings seen by me) were not of this earth.
During my regression, I was being taken back to meet them. However when I arrived in this time, back to the 1950’s or 1960’s, they were forceful and told me to leave. I was not invited. They used their arms and hands to tell me to leave, “now.”
So I left quickly. I then met up with Jesus and the two Mary’s. We began walking together on an old rocky road in the warm Sun. Jesus Christ was walking next to me as the two Mary’s walked behind us. They were praying and quiet.
The walking behind by the two women wasn’t because of a superiority that Jesus being a male had. No it was designed this way for the prayers to be completed and effective.
We walked and talked. Jesus had met me outside of the aliens den. He said, “come with me.” So I gathered my thoughts and being and went with him and the two ‘Mary’s.
He said that he understood my thoughts and dilemma and that he was turning me over into the company of some good friends of his, “The Magi.” He said that I would be safe there and that I should trust them and learn everything that I could.
I said, “yes, but they are about astrology and the unseen world and that’s wrong, evil, of the devil, etc.”
He said, “ you will be fine. You will learn under them now. You’ve learned everything that you can from me. Trust me.”
I said, “okay, I will believe you and trust you.” I proceeded in the direction he led me. On stone stairways leading down into the turquoise waters away from The Sun, descending into the beautiful ocean.
He and the two Mary’s left me as I went down into deep waters into the place of Atlantis. I was there looking at the monuments and recognized my heritage, my beginnings. I was home.
He (Jesus) brought me home!
I was freed from the church and all their harshness. Their yelling and cruelty was now behind me. I could now live my life free from condemnation and guilt.
Jesus smiled and said you are apart of them. Go now. The three left me swimming amongst the depths of the ocean 🌊 and within Atlantis.
From this point my real experience began.
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
1 Samuel 8 The people (Israelites) demand there be a king.
Humans want/need to place someone in charge. They have an innate want/need to elevate someone, to admire someone and to follow someone. We are like the mammals on earth. We think lowly and have not risen to the place needed for progression beyond mammals.
I believe this is part of the animal nature within humans and is not the best for the earth. But… humans aren’t there. We haven’t risen to the place of where, no kingships are needed. History proves this over and over again.
The Neanderthal gene 🧬 is continuing to influence our human thinking. We think and behave like animals. We don’t take care of anything such as our planet. We admire wrong things on earth or the things that tear the earths gifts away such as oxygen. We love looking up to those (any of those) who are willing to be scrutinized by others. We are selfish and the Roman Colosseum truly isn’t that distant from our past.
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Welcome! On the bottom of my blog is a link to the radio program.
I want to thank Nori, Aage, and Tom who were the radio panel of hosts. You three were kind, supportive and wonderfully interested.
I noticed, on YouTube, that 179 people have viewed the radio program (that I gave my experience in heaven). And… out of 179 views only 20 have liked it.
I have been told by family that my NDE changed me. I have more confidence now. Others have complimented me and asked me to defend them as an attorney (lol. What a wonderful compliment). I have not watched it as I will pick myself apart and one day, I will.
Well this made me curious and doubtful about myself When I saw the lack of likes. I asked, what is wrong.
Then I remembered that my death experience was not about any religious experience on earth. And because it is not of any beliefs, it leaves one with a walking away, scratching the head. Yep.
This scares people.
For your fears, I am sorry that you have this element of knowledge within (programed) you. I once had that too. I remember.
But know, as I said in the beginning of the radio program… this is… “My experience. It’s mine and not yours”.
So… no fears. Okay?
So here’s the link to the radio program. My date was on May 15, 2019 should this link not take you to my interview.
Thank you for visiting!
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
So~ When I arrived in heaven or wherever I was, I was just there. No tunnels, no lights, no family or friends and no angels by my side. No music. Nothingness. Darkness and blackness. No sound, no telepathy… absolutely nothing.
I was in dark lights as I wasn’t on earth and I had no idea that I was gone nor missing or anything out of the ordinary death experience.
While dead for 20-30 minutes, I experienced total blackness. It was non-memorable. When I started breathing once again and oxygen was-back in my system, my thoughts returned.
I have come to the conclusion that memories, thoughts, and experiences are created by using oxygen. Earth, oxygen and time are interconnected and oxygen is the main ingredient for the creation of memories and dreams, out of body rememberances and anything that we can fathom and remember on earth.
Otherwise, without oxygen there are no memories. And I must say that I was given this piece of knowledge after my death experience.
Now bear in mind that I am deaf and I asked them (whom, I never saw) if I needed to hear and it said, “I don’t think so. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.” And I was fine without hearing and this too was shown to me.
So off we ventured first to witness the physical properties of the earths dirt. The elements, the bacteria, the microscopic quantum universes below us and the intricate makeup of the physics held within the pebbles of sands, soils, gems, silvers and golds beneath our feet 🦶.
I was then taken to the earths relics and there I read hieroglyphics and inspected each object. From Peru to Mexico to Egypt To Sumerian culture, I was shown our human experience and our beginnings.
From there I returned to the Cleansing Pool to be cleansed again for ascension.
(My Cleansing Pool where in my heaven I went before ascension could take place. The talk Asian man was very kind, soft spoken (though our thoughts were telepathic) and assured me that I was not in hell. I think that he was familiar to me.)
At some point in their time, I was introduced to our alien forefathers. Alien DNA. I don’t know if all humans come from the same alien species. However, I doubt it. There was a room of (I think) five (5). They said “hello” and I was satisfied and asked no more questions. Ugh 😑with my lack of questions.
After the meeting, I was off with a being that was unseen. We traveled through out the universes. To The Pleiades, to Orion’s Belt and onwards to the outer of the universes.
I was shown binary codes that I couldn’t read yet they said that I could. They showed me star charts and I was amazed.
Also the outer of the universes was in front of me. The Elohim was creating a nebulous or something. The perimeter of the universes was made of Fibonacci designs. The designs were intricate and spoke to me telepathically. They were busy.
I sat on the side of something as far away as the moon 🌚 is to the earth 🌎 and watched the Elohim making this enormous masterpiece in space. Magnificent work and experience.
I asked about what was outside the universes. I was told that its dangerous for humans and that we wouldn’t return if we left.
The word phagocytes (white blood cells devour unwanted bacteria in the human body) came to me. I knew that I must not venture there.
During the entire time I spent in heaven , I heard the voices of my children in their upper thirties and my sister calling me home. They said , “come home, its not your time.” So I chose to return.
“The death angel “ lingered for eleven days.
And this is the basis of my experience. I know that I got way ofd topic. My apologies .
My brain is still in recovery from lack of oxygen. Anoxia. I am progressing to completeness and am lacking in recalling words, but have increased positive traits such as mathematics since my death experience.
Thank you for reading
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My life changed in February 2019. There is no turning back. All my beliefs changed as my experience showed life in its reality and whom god is to mankind. What tomorrow brings to you or me is unknown but something will happen and we are unaware until that force occurs. The most important lesson learned in February 2019 is love. God is love and nothing more. It doesn’t judge or criticize you or me. It doesn’t sit on a throne in heaven but can be found in the cells of all things whether living or not. So tomorrow pick a wildflower and look into its living force and when you peer know the divinity that you see. When you look at a stray dog or cat, know that you are watching the cells of god moving in our lives. Look at the truths surrounding you and leave behind any false dogmas. Know that heaven is not anything like earth and nothing resembles the stories that mankind has uttered for thousands of years. Nothing.
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Please understand that poetry writing is difficult for me since my incident last month. Anoxia has robbed my memory though every day I am getting better. Writing poetry makes me think. I don’t want to write any, but it’s a great exercise for my memory.
When Lives Change
Scrambling five mornings a week
For toasts, showers, clothing, lipstick, and my purse
Starting a car without the keys
Where did I put them, dear god, help! Please
Evening arrives on time, each eve
Cooking, forget cleaning, I’m up to my knees
Can’t someone assist, can’t they see me, geez!
Lord I need help with living, dear god, please
Years pass, and I’ve held things in disarray, it seems
Time has flown by and there’s nothing I have achieved, for me.
Compliments come in for my nothings, I’ve truly deemed.
Rolling my eyes about living and it’s all a confusing dream.
So February comes and it’s cold outside.
Loosing breath one night fighting hands that slide.
As if someone is choking me, slipping out of this place
Somewhere else I awakened with no time, like a space
No memory of children, pets or my homely mess.
In a place of intriguing beauty and experience.
At Pleiades, then Orion’s Belt, up and away from there.
Suddenly ~ while transporting~ I almost convulsed
The magnificence is overwhelming, as his smiling joy, couldn’t wait To show me the revelations of heaven
The gifts made just for me
And I thank him for all that he is blessing me.
With my questions answered about the universes and living after death
And in reverence I thank him for all glorious things, I have seen
I waved back and off I went
To the voices calling me home that afternoon.
I knew we’d meet again one time in my future
But now I know that my earthly frustrations are part of my heaven
And arriving home I smiled at my homely disappointments
My sadness now joy
Looking at the mess
Breathing in and out without being strangled
And yes, I am forever grateful to Him who smiles
And gave me my life with new and brighter eyes
March 10 @2019
Someone sent a message to me asking a question. My response is this;
Death is individual created for all of us as heaven is, as well.
It is my opinion and not based on fact, the harder the death, the more someone loved their life and didn’t want to leave Earth.
So, this is why I say, death is created for each individual to have them leave their bodies.
In my case, death was hard. It was though, I was being strangled and death was frightening until I collapsed into nothing. There were no memories of that time. Maybe 20-30 minutes.
When I awakened 2 days later in icu, I was in and out of a coma. It was when the oxygen and time returned that I began to remember or see heaven then.
Heaven is created for each individual as I said. That’s why some people have deeply religious experiences and others have their hearts or beliefs experiences.
My love in life has been creation of The Earth, the galaxies, aliens and supernatural beings, relics, ancient cultures, mankind’s origins and mathematical physics, patterns and anything oddly different and interesting.
In the past (late 1990’s) I had been a “born again Christian” and got rid of all the things that I loved, mentioned above. After the late 90’s after leaving the church, I found and followed fearfully my own beliefs.
I found out during my recent death experience that God (small word for the creator) loved me just as I am.
In heaven he/she showed me everything that I love. I found out that I am okay where I am at with the creator.
So I hope that I answered your questions.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I so much appreciated reading 📖 the words written.
Thank you, I hope that I have helped.
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Yes, I died. I flatlined. I had no pulse and no breath.
My son called EMS and my daughter got to my house before EMS.
That being said, I went without oxygen for a while and when you read my post here on WordPress, it might be confusing as my brain was/is anoxic.
So I will post some of my experiences in heaven.
First I was taken to The Cleansing Pool
There was a tall lean Asian male there with a large hat on. He was stirring brains inside the pool surrounded by many large volcanoes 🌋
I asked, “am I in hell?”
Quietly he said, “no. You are at The Cleansing Pool. Here you cleanse your mind from negative thoughts.”
I looked at all the thousands of brains in the pool.
Mind to mind he said, “these are the bad thoughts in others. Yours are here now too.”
There was no memory of loosing my bad thoughts. There was no pain.
He said, “you cannot ascend until you are clean.”
I think that I went often there to the pool within my journey to heaven.
Suddenly I am brought to look at The Earth. The dirt was shown at a magnified distance. It got closer and closer. In the dirt I saw shiny brilliant objects. I saw atoms, protons, neutrons and shiny objects. Gold, silver and another universe held in quantum physics and very much alive.
We moved on. I was with someone but I don’t know who. I didn’t ask but was comfortable.
We went to the surface of Earth and saw all the relics, monuments, artifacts of Egypt, Per, Mexico and Sumerian. I was amazed.
From Pinterest. I chose this as part of the Earth’s Fibonacci design. It’s very deep, very interesting and a bit scary.
I then asked, “who are humans gods? Who made us?”
I think we went to the Cleansing Pool.
Then I saw several non human beings. I understood. These were the gods.
Then, I was instantly at The Pleiades, at Orion’s Belt and there I said, “oh please, keep me within The Milky Way.”
And nope! Off we went to the outer perimeter of the universe or universes.
There is where I saw The Elohim (Hebrew for gods. Plural) creating the universe.
My symbol for The Elohim.
On the parameter of the universes there is a bundle like a baby bundle that holds us tightly together. It is charged with magnetic energies and it is made of The Fibonacci Code or designs.
These designs are alive and growing rapidly. They wanted me to watch and they wanted me to see what they were making.
I got these images from Pinterest and altered the colors some. Heaven has different colors and I cannot remember to show you what they are. I wish that I could remember. Mesmerizing indeed. I had to look away from the designs many times as it is all consummating and a bit scary as we’ve never seen anything like this on Earth.
Here are some of the images from Pinterest.
I wish that I could tell the artists who drew these how I think they are close to what I saw, though the colors are different.
Okay one last very memorable experience I had while in the heavens.
I saw binary codes. I don’t read the codes so I wondered why they showed me.
But what I think they might mean is this. The codes have earths dates, and names of people. The gods, angels, supernatural beings or whatever they are can travel here to us at any date and time.
The codes are used for time travel. Then recorded code information is folded onto each other just like when scientists say the universes bend together and traveling in the universes becomes a shorter distance. This is the same physical principle for binary codes and time traveling.
Okay… thank you for baring with my writing if you read this.
I appreciate your reading this. Questions are appreciated and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
Many thanks 🙏🏼
BoJenn March 10, 2019
Boy what a ride
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Weaving awkward words unbelievably infiltrated by a source
Who has bent reasonable human consciousness and time
Organizing underneath hidden conversations of the elite
Dictating to mankind frightening beliefs of death and scheol
Creating fear and hatred, and intolerance by falsifying lies
Freedoms eliminated; intelligence dissipated; imaginations empty
Colliding human beings, bending core character, remains nothingness
Grievances uninhabitable; the loneliness of the angelic godhead sits
Found are words that bend ears into manifestation matrix ideologies
Their pat verbiage we’ve acutely hypnotized and weaved like experts
Awaken to your own thoughts that were given to you so graciously
To hold them as yours and shan’t ever change a thing eternally
Your being is your gift; do not give it away; as you’re not a whore
Now stay where you’re at. Don’t move and eat only the finest fruit
Stay far from repeating their verbiage that binds you eternally
Speak you, and only you, and do it in love, for the Matrix will vaporize
Do not judge the fallen, but turn from that universe, and offer your hands
It’s not a place for survival. No.
The terrain is rugged and the waves are ferocious.
Learning to swim is mandatory for survival.
However the atmosphere is compelling me to open my wings and fly from the verbiage and voices of earth.
I must accomplish this
One task at a time
BoJenn @December 13, 2018
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Time: 8 pm or a little later… not much.. I can look at the time on my camera, but right now, I am just chilling.
From my backyard in the northwest and southwest sky came an interesting display of clouds and here they are. July 7, 2018
Faint pink cloud caught my attention so I got my cell phone camera So, I took several pictures southwest sky at the same time as the pink ufo cloud. I wondered if it was traveling to the huge clouds in the southwest. Was that the mother ship or do I have an overly inquisitive mind. This very brilliant star post the exit of the pink ufo cloud
What remained in the sky post the pink ufo cloud that was in the northwest
The sky is amazing isn’t it?
From my backyard to you.
I hope you have enjoyed as much as I have.
My destiny sits before me
And I am a fearful captain
The skies call loudly “this way!”
I hide in the room provided
The ships keep coming back
They are insisting on government
“Here. This is yours, captain.
Take charge before it’s too late.”
Courage is needed
I call upon the name, Courageous
“Come, now! I am ready! To take
BoJenn July 8, 2018
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Within 150,000 words weaves a story involving an edgy woman who is either psychotic or is as the townsfolk believe eldritch. They, in Glory Town, a charming picture-perfect town, nestled in The Appalachians, call her a witch. For Cat Dubois, decades passed and she becomes more isolated from her accusers. Jealousy and scorn for a child who was fey with sapience, the community of pretentious righteous, mocked her. The quaint town was not so “charming” after all and quickly ran sinners away. While alone for years, Cat began to see and hear voices. Visitors seldom came; however, her lonesome manor was haunted. However, little Cat prayed a prayer when only a child. That prayer was answered when she turned forty-five. An angel or fairy godmother named Eleanor came riding on the wind. Traveling with Eleanor was Tadhg, who was of the same order and virtue, and a little black dog named, Lovey.
“A scream was heard that summer day. A four-year-old little Catherine moaned into the mystical wind. She told the wind to find Thomas. Bellowing, into the breeze, her little heart begged, with vigorous might. The current carried her voice. It never ceased, until one day, “I heard it,” and that was when, Eleanor came riding in on the wind.”
The model in the photo is my daughter, the photographer was my son, and the digital artist is my dear friend Ky Mason. The picture has a copyright so I ask you, please don’t use it as it might be the cover of my novel … Thank you… All Rights Reserved
Ky Ellen Mason artist/editor/graphics designer/publishing/printing
My official copyright and number for my novel…. I received it yesterday and I filed for it in June of 2016.
What I realize now, and will be of interest to you if your also writing a novel or books of poetry, is this fact. They, the copyright officials, go through every word and sentence that you’ve written to make certain that you didn’t plagiarize anyone else. So when you apply for a copyright, they will ask if you have quoted anyone or used any sources other than your own. In my case, I used The Bible, The Gnostic Gospels, The Book of Enoch, and Simon and Garfunkel lyrics (one line). So, I had to include any sources and cite them.
Now, please understand, this process takes time, but it is inexpensive. My novel is roughly 140,000 words give or take a couple of thousand on either side. It costs $35.00. Not bad. I think a poem is around $7.00 and If you love some of your work and want t keep it your work, then please, go ahead and file for a copyright.
For example, and I will use my dear friend Susan Joyner-Stumpf as an example.
Lets say, Susan has her own copyright all over her work, but if she hasn’t officially filed for the rights, then I (and I wouldn’t do this), could copy and paste her work onto my own work and submit it to the copyright officers and Susan would have to sue me. That would take more money than the $7.00’s for her poem, had she just simply filed with the official copyright office.
I urge you to file your best and most favorite work. Keep it safe because there are thieves unfortunately. Save yourself a heartache. Copyright your favorite work…
Recently, I saw that a fellow poet, had taken my words and used them. The words were twisted a little, but I knew, that was my work. I got mad, I got upset, I tried to be flattered, and then I dropped it. There was nothing that I could’ve done at that point. Once it’s on the internet, it’s published (yes thats right) and going to court over a little poem is useless…
There is also the poor mans copyright we’ve spoken of before on here and that is to print out your written work and mail it to yourself. It will have an official time and date stamped on the envelope and for heaven’s sake, do not open the envelope. A judge will do that in a courtroom should you have to take your written work to court and file for plagiarism against someone… However, should your house burn down, like mine did, and you have not placed your poor mans copyrights in a safe somewhere else, guess what? Yep, thats right…. You have no official stamp or retrievable work… Gone…
By the way, students search the net for work they can turn in as there own… They perhaps are the major culprits of thievery of un-copyrighted poetry and short stories… Yep… They’re trying to pass college English with an unsuspecting writer’s work….
Well, I hope you have a great day no matter where you are in our great world…
The Art of Writing Query Letters for Writers; Chatting,,, The link on FB below:
Paper Rater has a free site to check your work. It also has a plagiarizer within the program. So, you can test your own work to see if you’ve plagiarized. It’s interesting also to check your older material that you put on the internet. The plagiarizer should bring up the original written work and perhaps a date and name… So, check your work to see if your published on the WWW….
Introduction“A scream was heard that summer day. Four-year-old Catherine’s screams echoed into the mystical wind. She told the wind to find Thomas. Bellowing into the breeze, her little heart begged, with vigorous might. The current carried her voice. It never ceased, until one day, I heard it. The zephyr had carried the message in search of Thomas. It had traveled lifetimes, into where memories dwell. In the dark space of matter, it moved, seeking the answer to the child’s petition. It did not stop, until it found accountability. It had echoed, in and out of woven petitions, spirits and prayers, asking, “Have you seen, the child, Thomas?”
Even as an older woman, Catherine could not stop the determination of the inquiring storm – to find the answer to her childhood question. The mission of the wind was to solve that petition. A request by prayer was sent that day, long ago; and then I came riding in on the wind.
Tadhg Harding enters the story, wearing a warm angelic smile and kilt. Tadhg recited the letter for Catherine. “Eleanor wrote it,” he added.
Catherine delightfully accepted the magic of an answered prayer. “At last!”
Tadhg welcomes you to journey inside this story about a woman named Elizabeth Catherine Dubois: “Everyone needs help – the supernatural kind – right?” Well, this tale is about when, where, why and how angels, or fairy godmothers, answer prayers.
Welcome! Thank you for stopping by for a cup of orange and cinnamon tea. Please, enjoy yourself
as you settle in to a cozy chair and hear a story about the magic of love, the dignity of grace bestowed from God, and the power of deliverance from oppressive spirits on an older woman who was once her parents’ little fairy princess.
Like so many older humans, Cat Dubois almost lost her happiness to ill-fated happenstances which couldn’t be avoided. The only difference between Cat and others who seem to dissipate by death in the vagueness of their pain and sorrow? The young girl cried out a prayer that found a way to God’s ears and heart.
So, He responded; He sent Eleanor, who came riding in the wind.
This story is about the struggle of life and the resolutions that come to Cat many, many years later; but nonetheless, answers come, just in time, in a magical way.
So, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tadhg Harding, and I’m the keeper of stories and poetry. That is the meaning of Tadhg, and this is what I do. I am both the story teller and an active participant in this tale, and I am also related to Eleanor, an oh-so integral character in this story. We are related by spiritual order and virtue. We travel through time, space and the world together. Come in, let us draw near. There is nothing to fear; this tale is an active adventure.
Humans, at times, question the fairness of a loving god. Life can feel like a test of human endurance. Why are some people fortunate or “blessed,” while others ache with despair and tragedy? Why is the innocence in children’s beautiful faces often lost within hardships, over a lifetime? Why are some untouched by horrors and deep valleys of sorrow and hatred? Lastly, why are some on a non-ending roller coaster of frights and thrills?
In order to understand and appreciate goodness, the darkness must be known, as it’s been taught many times before this story. Behold, the light of God shall shine upon the paths of danger, for our own good, and lead us, instead, to the way of enlightenment for our spirit’s development.
We shall lie down in those green pastures, and there our souls will be restored. We will one day act like God.
“Could it be in a different dimension or lifetime?”which, of course, is an age-old debate pontificated in sanctuaries and bars across a world of speculators from the righteous to the sinners. And, should we choose to accept the calling to a higher self, our assignment, or our journey into the syllabus He has prepared for each of us individually, must be eventually travelled. If so, it surely is then that we shall be like Him, and see Him, in the splendor of His love; because in human living, love, mercy and grace are the traits of the Father who has come down from the lights and resides in our souls.
Unique, are we. Good and evil will be known, but few will defeat dragons in one’s lifetime. ”Dragons are real,” many will say, but I ask you, “Are they real today?” Are not dragons, real or imagined, just our conduits to godliness? For within the very best of us, and the very least of us masterpieces, lie imprisoned spirits which are trapped by the flesh of mankind, or Adam. Adam was from the dirt of this planet Earth. Adam nor his seed will not live forever. But the Spirit of God will survive forever; spirit is infinity. We are not.
Then, there is the soul – the ego. The dual nature which longs for the earth or the “Adamic” nature. It begins innocently, then falls into God’s grace. The quest – our mission or lesson – is to defeat the opponent, the enemy of ourselves, our egos. So, this story is about defeating the challenger of God using the voices of the accuser. It is the strong one of this earth who whispers to the accepting Adamic humans all the reasons that failure is the final destiny.
The devil within is conquered metaphorically in isolated forests; deep-flooding valleys; on rocky hillsides; in snake-filled pits; in vast oceans where a single lifeboat drifts eternally; in lonely, locked cells; in cold hospital rooms; in the loss of a child or loved one; in burning towers; crashing planes; bombshelled cities; in an orphaned child; in unwed mothers; in life-changing events; until kingdom comes. The devil is appointed an unending reserve of trials.
The test’s purpose is to stretch ego and character into a form of divine inspiration. Sometimes it works and never fails. Perhaps, it is not determined in one lifetime, but in many. The soul determines the result for the lap. The soul steers the course. It develops; and graduation of a lesson occurs as we
become more and more like God.
Our story begins now. It is the story of a woman’s journey from innocence, to enslavement, and then to freedom, within a lifetime. You might share the sorrow and pain of her battles, and relate to her innocence during childhood, which is magically experienced by Cat. Seemingly, you might experience and share her rejection from the fellowship of those with whom she grew up. You might feel her hurt, her loneliness, her isolation; and know her addictions as your own. And, just when you think there is no hope for her – or maybe even you – you may find yourself cheering because there is magic and goodness in a dark world. There are fairy godmothers, angels, and guides who do help us just when we need them the most.
I welcome you into the story of Elizabeth Catherine Dubois.
Now, Elizabeth Catherine Dubois, or “Cat”, as she prefers, lives in a lonely house in the Appalachian Mountains, in a place known as Glory Town. She is young; growing up is upon her.
As you sip your tea, I will tell you all about it. Hers is a tale of loss, troubles, enchantments, delights and the magic of God’s angels, fairy godmothers and other divine interveners. These divine creatures – angels, guardians, fairy godmothers, or your choice of moniker for those who carry goodness on their wings – came to Glory Town for the sole purpose of restoring Cat Dubois.
Now, Glory Town is nestled between two old mountains in The Appalachians, the picture-perfect quaint village of 11,000 residents, which is not quite as perfectly round a number as 12,000, but purposely maintained at approximately 11,000. Furthermore, the municipality is never allowed a population exceeding 12,000. This was written in the foundations of Glory Town’s “secret codes” and governed by the town’s three founders.
These three are: David Finks, whose wife is Hannah Finks, with whom they have three sons, Warwick, Winston and Chad. Next in the hierarchy is Robert Fletcher-Snutgrass, with his wife, Jessica, and their four children: eldest daughter, Emily; middle son, Taylor; Claire, the next girl; and then, baby, Suzanne. The third family led by a founding father of Glory Town are the Thornton- Henchmens with their tribe: patriarch, Theodore or “Teddy”, for short, and Selma, his wife, and Hector, Molly and Thorpe Thornton-Henchmen.
Also of notable importance are the Reverend Davis (Daniel Davis’s father) and the preacher’s wife, Rebecca Palmer Davis. Other families, though less impressive, include: The Bartons – Henry, Ruth and their 3 daughters, Priscilla, Patsy and Daphne; the Johnsons – Larry, the town mechanic,
his wife Mary, and daughter Tammy; then are the Millers and their two infamous sons – Dillinger and Cooper. Finally, the immigrants from France and England are the Dubois family, comprising Philippe and Catherine Harrington-Dubois, and their daughter, Elizabeth Catherine, around whom this story revolves.
“Joy to the world! The Lord has come.” The crowning attraction of Glory Town is its famous claim as THE Christmas town most photographed and visited by tourist families with the delighted eyes of imaginative children and their parents, who still wonder, like children themselves, at the warmth of the holy season. Glory Town enlivens their memories like a picturesque scene on a vintage postcard, assuredly giving Christmas lovers warm fuzzies.
When approaching Glory Town from either mountain’s winding road, it appears like a Norman Rockwell painting that everyone wants, but only a few truly experience in a lifetime.
White snow, white picket fences, gently billowing smoke from the home fireplaces burning warm, and sidewalks, along which passersby smile endearingly while wishing all “Merry Christmas!” signal the revelry. Carolers beckon from the sanctuary, donning red choir robes and halo-white satin collars, heralding the music of pleasant voices in perfect a cappella, lifting up Gregorian hymns as the gothic organ opens with Bach’s “Passacaglia in C Minor”.
The Carolers, in a procession of holiday finery, continue their serenade to the corners in front of Victorian homes prominently, proudly, situated within what area, over many Christmases past, would become the town’s spiritual epicenter.
“Hark! The herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn king…’”. Everyone in Glory Town is expected to play roles demonstrating angelic behaviors at all times – and especially when guests are afoot. This whole town is a “Christian town”, hastening one back, in a heartbeat, to a Charles Dickens setting. Good behavior as far as one can see has been dreamed of, desired by, and lusted after, by those who have ever read or heard of the charm found only here, only now, this magical time of year.
The reputation of this little whistle-stop snowballed, bigger with every winter. Glowing reviews, and enough money to publish and mail pamphlets far and wide, made the traditions of these townspeople turn into the regular place of pilgrimage it is today. When visiting Glory Town, no tourist expects anything less than perfection. Who wouldn’t want to make this place home?
The improvements of puritanical whitewashing for the holiday productions begins each summer, with “summer” rehearsals starting directly after New Year’s. These practice runs include all residents – young and old – and require them to play their parts so well they’re second nature. By August, all the families congregate and begin re-teaching manners they’ve been teaching exactly as written and executed in the1800s. The women sew new costumes each year. They rehearse with their children so everyone is in step: how to act, how to talk and how to dress as if they still lived in the 1800s.
Making money by entertaining tourists has always been a major source of income for the town. Aside from that revenue, each business is small – and there aren’t many – and their bottom lines are nil to nothing. They like it this way; that’s why the law exists that the town will grow no larger. No corporate world exists here – in yesteryear. Everyone depends on the gratuities offered; they come in all year long, now that even the tourists have been courted to remember tithing so the traditions can continue. Little other real employment is available in Glory Town.
The acting, the manner of dress and everything else has become such a way of life that sometimes neighbors have to remind each other what is real and what are now magnificently drummed up vocations. “‘Come,’ they tell the tourists. ‘Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.’”
It has become so confusing that some townsfolk, especially the older ones, just stay in their assigned role all year, shifting from season to season, talking in a dialect privy to Glory Town from nearly two hundred years ago. As they grew into their roles, they became them…except for some of the women who serve on the community boards. They dress in their finest “other” attire most of the time.
The locals take tremendous pride in the natural beauty of their town; and that goes right with
giving thanks that they are governed by strict Biblical standards. The town is theirs – God seems to have made it and them just the way they are. Surely, it is a blessing for their piety, the elders say. And, though they welcome the tourists who marvel at their magical village, they are happy when the visitors depart. They certainly appreciate the economical gratuities. They benefit from the applause of the audiences they entertain; however they do wallow in the esteem. Glory Town is exclusive to their chosen few.
The tourists are the ones who now provide all the necessary income to maintain the town’s old architecture, the roads and the restorations to every utility, but the natives are very, very fussy about who comes to live, who seeks to stay, who stays too long after the stockings come down from the mantles. The visitors make them uncomfortable – way over their comfort level.
In the old days, they had strong persuasive men who determined when it was time that someone should leave Glory Town as soon after Christmas as possible. They would escort the interloper to the city limits, tip their hats and say, “Never show your face here again. Ya, understand?” But a few things had to change, as reticent as these Glory Town people are. They know who feeds them, and, now, people want to come visit throughout the year. So riding people out of town on a rail, so to speak, had to go. And with it went their smiles, now grown shallow, their Christmas greetings super- ficial, but their acting rivals the best of Broadway. The more charming the experience they provide the marveling visitors, the better the pay. “Oh, little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie…”
The steeple of the old wooden white-framed church is first seen when driving down from the mountain roads. It seems to welcome all from the winding path. But looks are deceiving, and the whitewashed paint is just that – whitewashed. And the winding path, it’s the most winding in the minds of those who live in Glory Town.
If anyone comes to visit outside the season of giving, the townsfolk know who they are, where they came from, what their intentions are…and when they should leave. The gossip trail is fierce; if one knows something new, they all do.
Of course, everyone attends church, and since there is only one church building in Glory Town,
the Catholics have the evenings, the Baptists take the 10:00 AM every Sunday, while the Methodists have the 11:10 AM slot, and the Episcopalians secure the earliest services at 8:00 AM sharp, ending promptly forty-five minutes later. The Presbyterians are at 9:00 AM, and the Pentecostals, which include the Assemblies of God and so forth, occupy most of Sunday afternoons.
Church bells ring throughout the day, calling each congregation to their appointed time of wor- ship. The church bells sound rich and deep, reverberating with man’s spirit and soul, ringing to the heavens to be one with his Maker.
However, when fellowship time comes, they congregate all denominations together, eating, singing, dancing and any socializing hoopla at the time. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be many fellows to the ship.
Mountain clogging and square dancing are two celebrated happenings that many in Glory Town excitedly gather for during the fall and spring months. Their fiddlers and steel guitarists are some of the finest in the country. There is a young vocalist competition, and a clog dancer contest, which also includes a beauty event.
These festivals bring in neighboring county folks. A good healthy county competition is exhilarating, and the town is always hoping for new talent who can bring celebrity status to the area, as well as keep the faithful tourists geared up for another visit. After all, the nearby state of Tennessee has quite a reputation for talented artists. Glory Town wants to reap some of that glory, too.
Glory Town has one hotel with eleven rooms which, during Christmas, never has any vacancies; and the two private bed and breakfast facilities tend to be booked up an entire year, or even two, in advance.
Hotel residents are rarely invited to the church social functions any time of year. During the holiday season, the hotel’s guests are provided an open kitchen and usually celebrate together because the town closes on Christmas Eve at 3:00 PM sharp. There isn’t a movie theater, or any
other venue for entertainment. The tourists resort to entertaining themselves, and they accept that for all the “unbelievable” goodness showered upon them the next day.
The grocery store is a small market that transitions to an open-air fresh fruit and goat-swapping center during summer. Nearby are ruby and diamond mines that have shovels and sifters for rent in summer, too, but it doesn’t take many people on staff to run them, so, again, the job market for Glory Town is slim to none. The coal mines employ about 42 of the working class of Glory Town. Logging is protected, but where it is allowed some of the men of the town work in that capacity. There is a double-sided clinic that tends to people on one side, while a country veterinarian utilizes the other. If the regular doctor is incapacitated, the country vet works both sides. That vet has delivered babies of every breed and stitched up minor lacerations on both humans and animals. But, all victims of major incidents are flown by helicopter to the nearest open emergency room.
The roads leading to and within Glory Town are treacherous during winter. Many people coming or going lose their lives trying to drive up or down the two-lane mountain roads. For safety’s sake, most of the grocery shopping is done in monthly installments, especially during the winters, and particularly if the individual lives on Downy Mountain Ridge Road leading into Glory Town. This road is where Cat Dubois lives.
The majority of the residents were all born in Glory Town – almost every single family has been a part of this whole scenario since its founding, except the doctor and the veterinarian. But, eighty- some-odd years ago there had been just one other outsider who came to live among them – Cat’s late uncle, her mother’s oldest brother.
François Nicolle, who visited the town frequently in the years that followed Black Tuesday, was eventually, and, surprisingly, by the old ways, allowed to purchase the manor and land on Downy Mountain Ridge – mostly because he was unintrusive; he was isolative; and he came with significant wealth. Uncle François had immigrated from Rouen, France where he had honed his skills in the agricultural art of growing the finest tobacco. He had brought those skills to the fertile soil of Virginia and grew a fortune in the most unlikely time of prosperity between the Great War and the
Great Depression. Along with his wealth built in years when most are mere boys, Nicolle was almost idolized as “the” man’s man. He introduced the lush-hungry males of the town to tobacco and Bordeaux. With his keen mind for scientific advancements and business, and at only about twenty- three years old, the young industrialist offered to to help build the economy of Glory Town if he was allowed purchase of the estate. By all historical accounts, François had been the only newcomer who had ever been allowed to stay.
When François met his untimely death in 1939, Cat’s mother and father came to assume responsibility for the manor, and began employing locals seeking work. The Depression lingered longer there in Glory Town. So, for the next fifty-one years, it became their home. After the death of her mother and father, twenty-five years gone now, Cat has lived there alone. She is 61, and her story must be told.
“Since I, Tadhg, am the keeper of poetry, I know many poems for many occasions. Right now, I have one written for Cat Dubois. It was written for her to ease and lend strength for the journey she experiences.” Tadhg smiles warmly, “Perhaps her journey is one that has a familiar ring to you?”
Though, I’m as parched as the desert, and my skin is brown and wrinkled by the scorching sun, you have never left me.
I have known you are my friend and will never let me wither. If the night had no light from the moon, if the ocean’s waves consumed the shores, and if I had no friends, you would always be by my side.
You would lead me with your sweet tender voice, you would send angels to hold my hand. You would place the eternal light before my feet and I will not fall nor fail.
While I sleep, your angels will sing lullabies and say, ‘Sleep. child. sleep’.
What makes Cat’s story unique is her gift. You see, Cat has faith, and it has made all the difference. Faith is her gift, and it will be put to the test to see if it is real, and to strengthen the measure given her for later use.
Before we can start this story in earnest, I must tell you some things beforehand:
First, the hard part. You must understand the reason’s behind Cat’s wilting, and angry spirit, for she was not always that way. You see, after many years of trying to be a good Christian like her mother and father, trying to live her life in their footsteps from the shadows of all they had done economically and spiritually for Glory Town, Cat shook her arms facing the sky and screamed up at the ears of God, as if He were there. Filled with rejections caused by believing those “good” people of Glory Town who claimed to be God’s children, Cat finally threw in her towel and lived in the singleness of her own mind.
Community, sisterly love and congregating with them was, well, truly, out of the question. She vowed to cut every relationship and denounce all spiritual ties with “those idiots” of her scorn. The last accusations against her, had been the final straw. “Calling me ‘a witch’, how dare they!” Cat rebuked their slurs as if God listened anymore. Her scowl said it all; and from then on, she no longer congregated with anyone in Glory Town unless it was absolutely necessary.
Cat cried into the brandy snifter.
She sat alone reminiscing about people and her vanishing past while lounging on the 19th century velvet olive-green couch in the manor’s library. Holding the brandy snifter in her right hand, she swirled the amber liquid at the bottom of the crystal glass. The movement was hypnotizing.
She watched it twirl for an hour or more, while memories played like a movie in her waking dreams all afternoon. She saw deeply, examining the past. The candles on the fireplace mantle flickered as the light faded in the room. The tears that befell her glass turned to droplets of self- discovery. As she cried, she saw something. A face! It frightened her for a moment, drawing a gasp. Somehow she had transcended; the year was 1999, and Catherine’s age, 45. This was
not a young woman’s overactive imagination.
She stared at her brandy. There, in the glass, a face appeared again. It was a boy, looking at her from within the mirror of the liquor. He had sandy hair and his skin was fair with sunburned pink cheeks. In less than a second, the boy’s image disappeared.
Cat jumped back momentarily, then back again, eying deeper yet into the liquid, trying to see the anomaly. As quickly as she imagined the image she saw, nothing but brandy looked back at her. She looked behind her, thinking the boy would be standing there. How did he get there? “Who is he?” A chill passed through her. The air was thick, and the room smelled of sea water on a hot summer’s day, but it was freezing outside.
“I’ve had too much brandy,” she muttered to herself. She thought about that, and set the snifter down for the night on the table beside her.
She remained on the couch, thinking. After a while, forgetting the boy’s face, she dismissed the foolish delusion, She flashed back to the beginning of her anger – frustration – rages, regarding these “good, kind” people of Glory Town.
Ruminating, her mind ran away from the pain, way back in time. She saw herself – perhaps, she was four or five, maybe; she couldn’t remember. But the time was when she met her best friend, Daniel Davis, who was slightly older than she; and, it was a haunting memory, a mystery she would never forget.
Daniel was the minister’s son. From kindergarten until teenage years they were bosom buddies. He was a handsome boy who grew into a gorgeous young man. Always shy around others, young Cat was the one that made him laugh. Daniel trusted her.
It was if she had always known him – even before they met. Confidences and secrets were hidden in their hearts. Their families wanted them to marry when they were older. From Cat’s sweet smile anyone could tell she wanted nothing more than this, but, in her heart, she knew it would never happen.
With all the hopes surrounding them, she went along with the idea that their marriage event would occur, anyway. She knew that Daniel loved her, but the dark secrets he’d shared when they were teenagers, made such wishes impossible.
He loved to cook and garden. He worked around the house and never wanted to go hunting with the men. He had strong shoulders because he chopped wood for the townsfolk. At the high school dances, he performed the latest moves like they were second nature. So, he was popular, too – every girl’s best friend, sweet, kind and intellectual, and mindful of the teachings of the elders. But, he litened to the forbidden radio to hear the latest news about world events and fashion. He snuck away from his father’s hellfire and brimstone messages to learn all he could of the outside world.
That which compelled him to quest far beyond the oak-lined alleys of Glory Town, was as second nature to him as dancing. Daniel loved men. Glory Town would never allow him to live there, if they knew. And, he didn’t want to live a lie.
Cat loved him unconditionally and would hide his secret forever, but she knew she would never be his wife no matter how hard anyone, and she, wished. It was easy to visualize her entire life with Daniel, but she would have to settle for being his best friend. There would be no romance or physical penetration when two souls meet, embrace and unite as one. She knew this would never happen. It made her sad; she wanted what lovers have; she wanted matrimony – with him. She loved him and adored him more than can fill a heart and mind and soul. But because she loved him so, she was willing to sacrifice that precious union, the whole man and wife magic, that blessed sacrament. He was Daniel; he was hers and she was his; it was just a different kind of wonderful than anyone could know.
Daniel revered Cat’s willingness to sacrifice her future for him, honoring his dark secret. But, he couldn’t bear allowing her to live a life with him devoid of physical engagement. He would hold her heart, but there would be no joining of their two spirits. There would be no conjugations; there could be no true marriage. As much as he, too, prayed he could compensate with the purest of love, Daniel could not ask Cat to throw so much of herself away, for him.
Cat DuBois was just too special. It was he who bragged about her extraordinary gifts to everyone – her gift of healing animals, her gift of of healing all living creatures. He stood in amazement every time they were together. She could heal people of so many ills, if they would just let her. The blessing of healing she manifested from within her were far too precious not to scream it from the mountaintops. He told everyone.
Assuredly, that is how jealousy took root in a family, and then spread like a forest fire in a drought. Because Cat had these gifts, amidst her shining star character and brilliance, she upstaged the pillars of the town, the respected elders and queens of the clans of Glory Town.
One family in particular began lambasting Cat at every turn, The Bartons’ three daughters, Priscilla, Patsy and Daphne, were this community’s beauties beyond compare. They also won the majority of scholastic awards – but, of course, their mother, Ruth, taught at their school.
Patsy was Cat’s age, and she desperately tried to provoke Cat into any competition that presented itself. But there was one area she had to dismiss. Patsy couldn’t carry a tune in choir practice, and Cat had perfect pitch. But Cat was never allowed a solo. Mrs. Barton made certain of it. The girls’ mother graded Cat on a curve Mozart couldn’t master – all because she thought Daniel would be a better match for Daphne.
Every time the Barton women could make a negative slur about Cat, they dug a slanderous ditch for her. Silently, they listened and gritted their teeth at Daniel’s accolades of Cat; they wanted to believe he was delusional. Like sour grapes, they imagined if he married this little insignificant girlfriend, Cat Dubois, he would one day discover that she was just like all the other dreadfully boring women of the town.
Surely Daniel was making a mistake! Clearly he was bewitched by this common girl and could not see Priscilla, Patsy or Daphne because of the enchantment with which the little trollop Cat blinded him.
The pressure grew on Daniel to ask for Cat’s hand in marriage. The entire town – except Ruth and
her three girls – wanted to know, “When?” Were they going to have their wedding ceremony as soon as high school was finished? “When is the big day?”
Constantly pushing their agendas, engagement ideas and wedding plans upon him, Daniel finally broke under the strain and screamed the truth at his father, the Reverend Davis. One fine afternoon, he admitted his secret truth. He had to be honest. He confessed under emotional duress, but it was still the truth. “Father, I am gay! Don’t you see it? I’ve been this way for a long time.”
Those words changed his life forever – just as he’d thought. Daniel was expunged from Glory Town by his own father and mother. He was given a knapsack of food, water in a thermos, and allowed to keep only the clothes on his back.
He traveled on foot up the winding road, making the curve out of town on Downy Park Ridge Road. His younger siblings watched him leave until he was out of sight. They were unsure of the reason why he had to go; their parents and everyone who saw stood silent; but, they all knew something bad had happened.
“Mama. Mama, where is Daniel going?”, they pleaded, crying and pulling on her flowered cotton dress. One held onto her dirty apron. Daniel’s home, the day before his announcement, was now a place in his past.
One confession changed his world – that first sentence was all it took. It changed his mother’s and father’s lives, and those of his siblings; it changed Cat’s life.
The sky became grayer. The light of day dimmed to darkness. The brilliance of some special charm in that town lost its shimmer; no, it was gone altogether. An artist left and took all the colors with him. Enchantment with the hope a new young couple would bring such delightful children to sing in their choir – what was to be a slice of the magical life of Glory Town was erased in an instant – all because Daniel didn’t fit the mold. The pretty picture they had painted in their minds didn’t match God’s unique creation – the young man who had just hiked out of Glory Town.
Mrs. Davis stood looking down the street that Daniel walked on his way up the hill. The road
looked long and lonesome. She thought to herself with caution, “Daniel soon will pass the Dubois estate.” In fact, her husband had yelled at him as he walked, “Better not go that way.” His demeaning tone rang loudly inside Daniel’s head, but Daniel had to go that way. He must. Still, even louder, his father screamed, “Don’t you think the Dubois family will want you to stop. Go on! You’re not my son anymore. Nobody wants you.”
Daniel’s mother stood like a lone tree in the desert. Her husband had scurried their other children inside. She was alone. Was she embarrassed or sad? Perhaps, a little of both but she knew she wanted her Daniel back. Would she ever see him again?
Word traveled before Daniel even made the first curve in the road. Some gossiped that his mother was so ashamed she couldn’t even move. Cat later knew that his mother was just broken-hearted. She knew that his mother would never heal; she knew that she, herself, wouldn’t.
The sun was blazing hot ‘though it would soon be dark. Sweat began to trickle down his head. Daniel was afraid, but free, at the same time. No longer would he have to live a lie though his immediate thoughts were, “Where will I go? Where will I sleep tonight?” He pressed onward.
Finally, going inside to look out the kitchen window, Mrs. Davis strained to see her last glimpse of her son. Her finger tips pressed the window trying to pull herself closer. She wanted to run after him.
“If you go after him, then you might as well pack your bags. You better not even think about it.”, Rev. Davis barked. After gruffly preaching this to her, she stayed motionless at the window. He hit the wall beside her, putting a hole in it, then he marched upstairs and slammed the door. The good Reverend never spoke to his wife again, unless he had to. She didn’t care. She hated him for this. She almost hated his God that he preached about on Sundays.
As Daniel passed the Dubois manor, he did stop – only to say goodbye. He hoped he could just see Cat one more time. Pausing in front of her home, he wished only for a hug and then a wave, “Goodbye.”
But news had already traveled to her parents; even as Cat tried to gain permission to take the car
to drive him to the next town, her father refused.
“Papa, please! It’s not right and you know it!”
“Catherine, you go to your room right now!” her father said angrily, his French accent making the words sound so much more foreign.
“You loved him this morning! Now? Now, you hate him? How dare you! You call yourself a Christian? You’re not Christlike at all! I despise you!”
Cat ran to the top of the stairs. There on the table next to the banister, she caught a glimpse of a roll of money – money on top of her mother’s purse.
Cat grabbed the cash and ran the rest of the way up to her room. She hurried to the window and looked out, waiting until Daniel walked by.
“Daniel? Here!” She called out, throwing the money down below so he would be able to catch it. She watched as it blew away from the manor, and she waved goodbye, knowing her father would be going outside any minute to chase him away. Warm tears passed her soft, pink cheeks. “Bye, Daniel,” she hollered. “I love you! I’ll love you forever.”
Daniel waved back and blew her a kiss before he scrambled to pick up the money he could in a hurry. He stared back, seeing Cat’s mother looking out the front living room window. She gave a wave, too – a fragile, weak kind of wave.
Mrs. Dubois prayed as he turned and walked away. “Oh, Lord, please protect him. Send your angels to comfort him. Keep him safe. Please. Thank you.” Then, she went upstairs. She went straight to Cat, putting her arms around her tightly. Together, they cried.
“What will happen to him, Mama?” Cat asked, wiping the tears on her face.
“I don’t know, Cat, honey, but we will pray that God will be with him.”, Mrs. Dubois said.
Cat bit her lip. “Mama, may I please give him a ride to the next town? Please? Just let me sneak the car out this once?”
“No, Catherine, your father will kill us both.” Mrs. Dubois said, sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“Mama?” Cat began, tentatively. “I took money from your wallet. $25.00. I gave it to Daniel.”
“I know. I left it there on purpose. You’ve a great heart, Elizabeth Catherine Dubois. I’m glad you did that for him; it was the least we could do for that sweet young man. I know how much he means to you.” They held each other as they watched Daniel walk up the road until he was no longer visible.
She hesitated before leaving the room, putting a hand into her apron pocket. She had a second thought. She changed her mind. Without looking at Cat, she placed the keys to the old Impala on the dresser, tucking a credit card beneath it. Under her breath she whispered, “Be careful. Pay for two nights at a hotel. Your father can be tempered. I’ll tell him it was a donation to a worthy cause. A tax write-off. Now, go quietly while I distract him.”
Cat quietly slipped outside and jumped into the car parked down the drive to the side of the house.
Mrs Dubois distracted Mr. Dubois with the suggestion of summer night’s passion, “My, it’s hot tonight. Come upstairs with me. I have something for you. A gift.” She smiled and winked. She curled her index finger to and fro. “Come on. I’ll meet you upstairs.” Mrs. Dubois turned on the bath water for two.
The sound of rushing water would distract his hearing. He wouldn’t be able to hear the car’s engine as Cat started it up, nor would the Impala’s headlights reflect in the large victorian bathroom.
Her distraction worked, for Mr. Dubois couldn’t get there fast enough. For the moment it seemed as if he forgot about Daniel’s drama and gladly he accepted the invitation.
“Turn on some music dear…”, she taunted.
Cat started up the old car and crept down Downy Ridge Drive as if going slowly might make less noise. She spotted Daniel walking on the side of the road. It was past dusk, and she could vaguely
make out his shadowy figure. Honking and pulling to the side of the narrow curvy mountain’s small shoulder, she called out to him. “It’s me, Cat. Get in.”
The silence was thick. There were few words expressed, but finally Daniel spoke, “All men must go through an initiation into manhood.” He was silent for a second. “Cat, don’t stop this. Boys need to have this time. Any of them who don’t will later wish they had. It’s our rite of passage. The Indian braves do it. This is the right time and the right thing to do.”
Cat wanted to believe him. She drove him twenty-five miles to the next town stopping at a small motel. “Mother told me to pay for a night or two.”
“Tell your mother, “Thank you. I love her. And, will you tell my mother the same?”
“Daniel?”, through her tears she nodded, “Yes.”, to his requests. “Daniel, I can’t let you go. I can go with you.”
“No, Cat; I will be fine. I know someone not too far away. He said I could stay with him until I find work. I will be okay.”
“Promise? Swear it.”, she begged.
“Yes, I must do this. I have to grow up, Cat. It’s my time to sink or swim. I must become a man, now.”
“Swim, Daniel, swim.” Sobbing, he turns her away. “Get the car home before your father knows. I don’t want him to take it out on you two.”
“Okay.” Sniffling, Cat hugs him one more time.
He points the direction out of the parking lot. “Do you know how to get home? It’s dark on the mountain roads. Be careful. Promise?’
“Yes. Daniel. Daniel, I already miss you.” “I’ll keep in touch. I swear.” He held the door open as she got into the car.
As he closed the door, he said softly, “Now, you must go. I love you always.”
Pulling out of the motel parking lot she found the mountain road that would take her home. Cat thought about him every mile of the way. Through her sobs and tears, she wondered how he would survive.
Upon her return, she found that her parents were fast asleep. Cat slipped upstairs toward her bedroom, silently replacing the gifts her mother had lent her.
The women thought the father never knew she had taken the car. But, when she pulled back into the driveway, he was listening. He sighed relief, and said his thank you’s to God. A tear formed in his eye. He never let on he knew, and they didn’t ask.
Cat wrote in her journal that night, trying to understand the day. Even though her daddy was tough and often cool, he thought the world of Daniel, like the rest of the family. But, after Daniel left that summer, her daddy would hug her, for no reason. He never said anything. He just hugged her.
It rained for one whole month in Glory Town. Perhaps the town was secretly crying about Daniels departure, or maybe it was the angels crying.
As for Mrs. Davis, the days of her sobbing were over, but she would never smile again. She stared down that road, and waited. She just waited…and waited…and waited. She had a feeling she would never see her boy again, her precious Daniel.
She questioned the rules voiced through the insensitive humans who surrounded her. How was it possible that a loving God was so cruel? How could it be that they worshipped an unloving deity that allowed no mercy or grey areas to exist, especially, in Glory Town where things were supposed to be based on God’s love? Black was black; and white was white; and there would never be any shades of grey there.
To to the neigbors (supposedly, all her friends) who judged her son so harshly, God was an almighty father who tolerated nothing but perfection from his lambs. No spots or wrinkles, just pristine, whitewashed picket fences, and houses that complemented each other with matching shades
of paint, and children who walked and talked the Holy Scriptures without pleasurable smiles. They sang Christmas carols all year – songs that now meant nothing to her; they were simply empty, dead words—just like her feelings.
Cat saw Mrs. Davis’ endless watching to see if her son would walk again down their lane again – day after day, one year to the next. Cat wanted to reach out and touch her, to tell her how she felt. After all, they understood and accepted Daniel exactly as he is. But, Cat stayed her distance; she did not intrude.
Cat did pray, however. She asked God to help Daniel’s mother, “We are two women who know painful sadness: for Daniel who took the rainbows with him, for the unicorns also departed with their smiles.” Cat laughed at her silly humor, but she felt like all this about Daniel was just that – ridiculous. Besides, anything that brought a magical feeling did disappear out of their lives when Daniel left.
Meanness grew from the seed of uncompassionate judgement and resentment, planted the day they exiled Daniel. That seed grew with more cultivation than ever in their grounds of high expectations. Trying to live up to all the “Thou shalls, and the Thou shall nots” had turned out to be a very hard lesson that kept getting more difficult with every day.
If there was any grey area, it was gossiping. Somehow one could gossip without sinning too badly. “After all, who is perfect?”, they justified. The gossip queens found protection under the Almighty’s great wings of grace. Apparently, gossiping was very forgivable, for them. It was letting off the steam from their boiling pot of perfectionisms.
They loved to gossip about two things: Cat and Daniel. And, of course, Reverend Davis. Not one of the townspeope ever visited Mrs. Davis – not even once.
Daniel’s mother seemed to wither away. After Daniel left, she had very little to say to anyone, including her husband. Mrs. Dubois always warmly smiled, and patted her hand, once, to show support. It was a kind gesture, but Mrs. Davis needed more. She hurt so badly that she questioned
All the scriptures regarding pain and suffering were, simply, not much comfort. The scriptures were used to convict her son, not to love him. Wasn’t their God supposed to be a God of love? This is what she had always believed. Perhaps, she was wrong about “His” character. A hateful God she would not, she could not, follow.
Mrs. Davis desperately wanted to talk with Cat, but her husband’s strict rules – to stay away from the Dubois family – kept her from paying a visit to the manor house. She was so fearful of what others would say; and more afraid of her minister husband. He might hit her. He would definitely berate her, although never publicly. But, she had borne his harsh blames and accusations that she was the reason Daniel grew up to be queer. He growled, rebuking the mother of their child, “Had you not coddled him so often and treated him like a girl, this never would have happened.”, and “God, help you woman!”. Of course, he blamed his wife for all of it: Daniel’s homosexuality; the fact that he wasn’t a real man in his father’s definition, or that of his community; and that he had to leave his home. It was all her fault!
And so, Mrs. Davis changed. She avoided the congregation, and she isolated herself in their lonely prison of a home. The only hope for a glimpse of godly mercy would be that Cat Dubois would hear and answer her prayers: that some how Cat would make a way to find her and tell her about her son, her Daniel.
“Please, hear me, Cat. Please, come and tell me about my son.”, she prayed repeatedly.
Then one day, a diagnosis was confirmed by her doctor. Mrs. Davis was dying. Parasitic cancer was rapidly growing. She called their maid, Ernestine, to send word that she needed to talk with Cat Dubois.
The maid knew, at once, that this had to be a clandestine operation. She would have to go to Cat’s house and ask her to come. Oh, she wasn’t afraid of Cat, but she feared for her own reputation just like everyone else in Glory Town. Anyone seen talking or visiting Cat Dubois was ostracized. But,
she would do it. She had to think quickly. How could she sneak Cat inside the minister’s home where the ill woman waited? Ernestine was resourceful – she went as quickly as she could to consult the other maids of Glory Town on the sad situation.
Now, those who worked as domestic housekeepers in the town were all black women, and were forever under the ever-watchful eyes of the influential Glory Town hobnobs; but, when it came to the dying, well, the dying get their last request, no matter what; and the maids knew how to serve those needs best. So, these women used that trust and liberty to work together to pull off the plan.
It was an elaborate and grand scheme of orchestration by these Christian women, so prejudicially considered as subservients by most everyone in Glory Town. They would accomplish what no one else, so far, had managed or even tried to do in consideration of Mrs. Davis. These women were going to help Cat Dubois meet with that one woman in Glory Town who desperately needed to see and hear from her.
“Knock-knock” on the Dubois’ huge wooden front door was the first stage of their plan.
Ernestine sent Grace to visit Cat. Grace was the daughter of Beulah, Ms. Dubois’ cook, when Cat was a baby girl. They had never met, so Cat didn’t recognize Grace when she appeared at the front door; but, once she introduced herself, Cat was all ears. She knew it had to be very important for this woman to call on her out of the blue.
Cat eagerly agreed with their plan to go to Mrs. Davis’ bedside. The ladies had a signal, and a clear-cut order of what was to happen to protect all involved. Cat was a phone call away, and she promised to be ready when they said, “Come.”
At last, the call came. “Go to her, now.”
Cat was ready.
First step: Grace drove behind her, so Cat could park her easily-identified Jeep a few blocks away, hidden from prying eyes. From there, Grace picked her up and sped to the Davis’ home, making sure she was just under the speed limit. She dropped Cat off at the back door.
Second: While the drive, drop-off, visit, and pick-up was in process, some of the other women in their black congregation were putting finishing touches on pies in different flavors: cherry, blueberry, apple pie and even a chocolate one, taking care to add fresh whipped cream, and brewing freshly ground Columbian coffee, too.
While those women were readying the refreshments, a few others were sent scurrying around town, inviting all the ministers they could find, from all the denominations and congregations, for an important, though impromptu, morning chat and prayer breakfast.
Along their route, they would even ask some of the local “nosies” who loitered around the church, “volunteering” (mostly, of course, so they could be the first ones to know who had died, who was planning a wedding, who was spending too much time in the preacher’s office). The domestic brigade had to keep them busy, too.
All this was planned and executed in less than 24 hours.
Justine, a part-time maid, had agreed to stay with the ill woman in her home, and to wait for Miss Dubois at the back door. It was all moving like clockwork. Justine waved Cat inside, “Come on! Quick now!”
As soon as Cat got in the back door, she moved quickly to Daniel’s mother’s room. She would have maybe two hours for them to talk – if Daniel’s mother could last that long, not becoming too weak from being anxious, and then the visit with her “guest”.
Justine set coffee on the bedside table for Cat.
“Thank you, Justine,” Cat said, gratefully. “That wasn’t necessary.” She knelt down on the floor next to Daniel’s mother. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. I’m here. I’m right here.”
After parking her car down the street, Grace followed Cat, entering the Davis home to make sure all was safe. She graciously backed out of the room, leaving the two secret friends alone. She joined Justine in keeping watch for anyone suspicious, waiting and ready to whisk Cat away and back to her Jeep.
They took their positions, Justine was at the front window of the house; Grace stood guard at the back. Other than the postman who was extra friendly with Justine that day, there were no hitches. It was a plan made from heaven, for now.
Faintly, Mrs. Davis breathed, “Oh, Catherine, how I’ve longed and prayed for this day. The heartbroken woman could hardly contain her tears. The words were hard enough to say because of the toll of the disease, but the heavy flow of deep weeping, alone, would have stopped her flow of conversation if she had not been determined to talk with Cat Dubois. Her last hope to Daniel, she would muster up the strength to talk and listen.
“Tell me everything you know about Daniel. Please.” Her voice quivered, and she tried to look up at Cat.
Weak as she was, Mrs. Davis had to hear every word.
She called her Catherine. Mrs. Davis had always been more formal than most; she was, after all a preacher’s wife; and she was kind when addressing anyone around town, but this young woman was due some real honoring. At the very least she would call her by her given name. Catherine had en- dured as much pain over her relationship with Daniel as she, his mother, had. She wept as Cat began.
“But, first,” Mrs. Davis softly interrupted. “Before you say anything, I want to tell you how much I appreciate you. I wish I had been bolder after Daniel left. I wanted to come to your home. I wanted to, but…” Her voice trailed off, and, as her eyes look down in such despair, she cried harder. Her voice became shrill; her pain was more than even Cat had imagined.
“I am ashamed, for not standing up to the bitter, hateful gossiping, and for not standing up to the Reverend. I cannot even refer to him as my husband anymore.”, she said, finally.
“It’s alright. I know.” Cat smiled at her and squeezed her frail hand gently in a pact that their two minds thought so much the same. They both loved Daniel; and they both knew the hate they had endured for so long now; they knew the mindset of those who brandished the antiquated laws of
Glory Town like razor-sharp daggers.
Cat was delighted to share everything she knew of Daniel in his mother’s final moments. She continued to hold her hand. In an unusual way, it was like holding Daniel’s hand; it gave her strength. So, Cat held back any sad or frightening thoughts about him.
She told his mother how Daniel had become a man. She didn’t tell him he was a drifter or a gypsy. She just spoke of the best of his life.
“Most of all, he told me to tell you how much he loves you, and his father.” Cat thought about lying to her. Lying would make it easy for the frail woman to pass on, but, Cat wouldn’t lie. She knew all lies eventually catch up in one’s life, or beyond. She did, however, sugarcoat the good reports.
“He forgives me?”, Mrs. Davis asked.
“Yes, yes, he never thought you were to blame and he hoped you were alright.”
“Please, tell him that I love him. Please. I’m so sorry.” The tears were coming again. “Why do I have to leave before seeing him, I don’t know why?”
Her tremendous sadness was tough for Cat. She stretched over a bit to gently hug the grieving mother. Within minutes, Mrs. Davis closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Cat kissed her forehead. It was time to leave; she had been there more than an hour. She slipped out of the bedroom, and Grace hurried her to the Jeep.
“Goodbye, Miss Dubois.”, Grace said as she turned to leave.
“Thank you for your help. I needed that as much as she did.” Cat gently shut the car door. Even though Glory Town was so small, Grace and Cat’s path likely wouldn’t cross for a long time, if ever. She paused to think how grateful she was for Grace’s safe passage for her, for the courageous and ingenious thinking of all the women who helped. They, too, could be judgmental in their own ways, at times, but they recognized that Mrs. Davis needed closure about Daniel, and they did exactly what their Lord through Ernestine had asked them to do, without a second thought.
That evening Daniel’s mother drifted into a coma from which she never awakened. Her funeral was on a bright sunny day.
Cat made her way to the church, and sat in the back. She went for Daniel’s sake. She went for the sake of his devoted mother, Mrs. Rebecca Palmer-Davis. She also attended the graveside ceremony, standing a good distance from the others, but not too far from the “colored ladies” as she respectfully thought of them so much moreso than before, and certainly moreso than the other white folks. It was late summer or early fall, and the year was 1980.
As it was, Reverend Davis suddenly died of a heart attack less than two months later.
Cat knew he died of heartbreak, too, drinking himself into the grave by self-medicating from the pain of it all. Daniel’s leaving, combined with his wife’s sad and painful death, finally overwhelmed him. It was more than he could bear. He was buried on a cold rainy day in the first part of winter.
Daniel did not attend either of his parents’ funerals. Had he known of his mother’s illness, he would have jumped over the moon and fought off dragons to be near her in her last days.
But, he wouldn’t hear of their deaths until later, when a couple from Glory Town happened to be where he was moonlighting as a bartender in a strip joint three counties away.
They came for fun. Just to sin a little. You know, get away from Glory Town. As they sipped their drinks and talked to Daniel as if he was their best friend, and as if nothing had happened, they told him, nonchalantly, that his mother died in late summer and his father, two months later.
They drank and laughed their night of escape away from Glory Town, and Daniel pretended to laugh with them. Secretly, inside, he ached. He thought of both of parents. Nothing was settled in this lifetime; nothing was forgiven; nothing was better, but worse, with the news that came as if the drunk couple told him about having a tooth extracted – nothing more.
Daniel dried the last high ball glass for the night, and locked the door to the bar. He went back to his hole in the wall. He drank a scotch by himself, wishing that life had been less painful. He asked hard questions to a God that seemed removed from him: “Are we merely puppets for you to pull our
strings? Is there no happiness or love on this god forsaken planet? Why? What is this all about? Am I a horrible person? Perhaps you should kill me! Let me die! I don’t want to be here. Mama! I love you! Father, if I could, I would hate you, but God won’t let me. See, I know about God’s love! I learned that! But, not from you. I learned it from my mother. Thank you, Mama. I love you!”
That night, on his flea-ridden cot, Daniel held his gun cocked. Several times, he place the barrel to his head. He didn’t do it. He just fell sound asleep.
In his deep slumber, he had a dream. It was vivid in every way; and, in it, a strange woman came to him and sat there with him all night. He asked her, “Who are you? And, what are you doing here?”
She answered, “I’m here because someone prayed for you.” The woman spoke with an old English accent.
“Who?” He looks at the woman in his dream. She’s wearing an old green velvet dress.
“Someone who loves you very much – Catherine. You call her Cat. She prays for you every night. When you see her, tell her that, one day, I will visit her.”
The strange dream never left Daniel. And, he did deliver the message to Cat the next time he saw her. Although the dream was vague, and all the time in the world could have passed, he would never forget the old English woman who got him through that night, the old woman dressed in a green velvet dress.
A more traumatic blow befell Cat, within a year after Daniel’s mother and father died.
A winter more bitter than the last took both her parents. They had been to a neighboring town to pick up supplies to hunker down in preparation for an ice storm headed their way, but the storm was moving fast.
They called as they were leaving the store and Cat plead with them to stay at the motel just nine miles away but on the lowland before hitting the winding mountain path, but they insisted on coming
home to be at home, safe with their daughter.
Like many others before them, her father saw the ice on the curve before the bridge and slowed, but once they hit the suspension, the ice was black as the night and he lost control. They were gone in an instant.
Catherine would so sadly become the heir of The Dubois Manor in Glory Town.
Daniel traveled back to Glory Town when he heard of the Dubois’ deaths. It was the winter of 1981. He walked to the old manor. There he stayed with Cat for a week. No one knew he’d visited, except perhaps one man – a suspicious watcher – who wasn’t sure it was Daniel, but knew that someone was up there with her; and, being nosey enough, assumed it must have been him.
Daniel didn’t attend the double funeral. In fact, he never set foot in the perimeter of Glory Town. The Dubois Manor was as close as he would come.
And, the curious watcher didn’t make a big deal out of his assumptions either. Maybe it was just out of respect for Mr. and Mrs. Dubois, because if he had made even one comment, it would have become like a tidal wave in Glory Town. The townspeople had nothing better to do, and gossiping about Cat had been their favorite pastime for years now. She was the mysterious woman who never married, but was still gorgeous, despite the degradation and misery they caused with glaring eyes and whispers. And, she bore unusual healing talents, and the strangest crystal blue eyes. They said her eyes could capture souls, so they faced their fears of her with rumors and jeering laughter and cruel gossiping.
This was one of the reasons Cat stayed away from them as much as possible. Cat knew this about herself, that her eyes were like crystals – that she could mesmerize people, sometimes. She used this on occasion – for her eyes could throw invisible daggers of sinister emotion. Once in a while, when things were just too out of hand, when she really needed, she used her visual knives to intimidate the gossip queens.
When Daniel arrived at the manor, Cat made a warm cozy bed for him and prepared fine meals.
Two more times after her parents’ funeral, Daniel came to stay with her. He became complacent about life – a vagrant; and he eventually moved closer to Glory Town, living on the streets of a nearby town. He had not found his self-worth…yet.
The next year, mid-winter, and with shoes so worn he was almost barefooted, he came wandering to Cat’s back door. He didn’t want to be seen, but he would chop wood and stay in the warmth of her kindness. She ministered to his broken heart. He would never stay longer than a week, although she always offered him a home for life, if he so wanted.
But Daniel would visit the Manor, and then leave again. Perhaps, it was the sadness of never being able to see his mother or father ever again that was just too painful to be near Glory Town for long.
One day, Daniel walked away wearing new shoes, purchased by Cat at the town market. He had a little money in his pocket and refused any further handouts from Cat. But, he always did what he could for her, in return for her generosity. He had pride, after all.
He chopped her wood, so she would have plenty for winter. He fixed her barn doors, and the garage door, as well. He painted the trim of the manor’s windows. The weeds were pulled out of the flower beds.
On the fifth day, he gathered his few belongings in his leather shoulder bag. Cat watched him pack through the crack in the door of his bedroom. It was time. She knew he was going, just like he said. He fixed everything in five days. She went downstairs and made a fresh pot of coffee.
He stood tall at her kitchen threshold, without speaking.
Breaking the silence Cat said, “You don’t have to go. This is your home. That is your room. I need your help. I can’t run this place by myself; you see that. We both need each other.”
He smiled. “Thank you. It’s good to know I have a place that is mine. But, right now, there is a world I have to explore.” He paused, “And you, Cat, you need to find someone. A man who will love you and take care of you. You and I love each other. But, it’s not the love you deserve. Find a man to
love you. There is a whole world outside of this place.” He smiled tenderly. His eyes told her this was the way it was going to be.
“You’re a beautiful woman. To wait for me is wasting your life. I can’t love you the way you should be loved.”
“I see.”, she replied. Though, she didn’t see at all. She handed him $200.00. “This is your payment for fixing everything.”
“No, I stayed here. I owe you.” Daniel handed her the money back.
“No, Daniel, this time, I insist. This is for the wood you chopped; for fixing the fences, the barn door, the garage door and the painting. I couldn’t have done this. I know this isn’t enough, but please; it’s all I can afford now.” She wasn’t going to let him walk away this time without making her best effort to pay him.
“Cat, I can’t. You gave me food, water, a bath, a bed, meals, wine and, best of all, the love of a lifelong friendship. So, no, no, I cannot accept. It’s my gift to you.”
“Oh, yes, you will. I insist.” Cat puts the money in his shirt pocket. “There. And, there it will stay.”
They looked into each other’s eyes. “It’s time,” he said. “The weather is cool and crisp, and the sun is brilliant.” Daniel’s face bore a manly expression. He had grown up. He was a man. He passed the test – the right of passage; he knew what he was doing, Cat didn’t have to worry any longer.
Daniel was an honest gypsy. He went from town to town fixing things, staying at farmhouses or in barns in exchange for a bed, food and a bath; and, he was known as far as he could walk for repairing broken fences the right way – the old way, where they last for years even through many harsh winters. Sometimes the fences looked beyond repair, but Daniel could mend or rebuild even those if he was allowed.
As he leaned down and picked up his satchel, and started toward the door, Cat had to ask, “What about love Daniel? You never mention love or a special person. Do you have a special someone?”
“No. No one special person.” The sun caught his eye as he had moved into the light from the window. He shewn like an angel – iridescent, glowing with an internal peace. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing he just wouldn’t go.
He took the opportunity to slip the $200.00 on the counter as he opened the door, walked down the steps, and proceeded on the walkway toward the front yard.
“I have to Cat. It’s time. And, oh, yes, I almost forgot to tell you.” He looked into her eyes and said, “One day you will have a visitor.” He predicted Cat’s future, knowing, without a doubt, it would come to pass. “The visit will be very important to you.”
Cat thought he was talking about a man. A man she would, one day, fall in love with. “That doesn’t interest me”, she firmly stated.
His eyes caught hers for a solitary moment before she could look away in belligerence. It was as if they told each other a story. A story they knew so well. It was a lifetime in a glance. “But, not this lifetime”, so she thought. “Could it be another place in time?” “No”, she reasoned. “No such thing.”
“Until you send word that you have met your visitor, I love you; I have to go. You are going to be fine.” He turned the corner to the front of the house, and stepped onto the road wearing his new leather shoes.
A car was coming and he put his thumb out to hitch a ride. The car stopped for him. Daniel looked one more time at her as he got in, and he waved goodbye.
She waved back until the car disappeared around the mountain curve, and the majestic stand of red cedars was all that looked back at her. She wondered if she would ever see him again. “Would he always be a gypsy? Will he be safe? God help him, please.” Cat always kept the night oil burning for him. She hoped he would return. For now, Daniel was gone, once again. Maybe forever.
She wiped the tears off her cheeks many times that afternoon.
Thank you for reading and I hope you will want to continue on the journeys with Cat Dubois.
The main character, Elizabeth Catherine Dubois, is warmly dedicated to:
My father, Jim, who taught me the wonder of the heavens and the stars;
My mother, Babe, who showed us life’s magic;
Carol, my sister, who is a warrior queen;
Elysia, my daughter, who gives God’s love;
Joel, my son, who renders grace;
and, to Jacob, my grandson, who is God’s gift.
Most importantly, this book is dedicated to my God, who is patient with me
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Tomorrows my birthday and sadly I don’t know yours I often wondered what happened to my little dears Those two who were called, “fetal tissues,” not lives And in ignorance succumbed to the abortionist knife Were you placed in a burial ground or burned? Were you put in the evening trash? Or could you Have gone to a tissue bank, sold for big bucks Without my knowing much. And that was Forty years ago, and the excitement of Women’s rights were celebrated, but you My darlings, how sad I’ve become reflecting Thinking of who you were and where you are And I named you and gave you thoughts and gifts One a poet songwriter coming from my genes The other a pilot like his fathers dreams And at Christmas, I set a place for you In my heart, you’ll always be And one is John and the other David Oh perhaps you were Lillie or Sarah But, I’ll never know you in this life Please forgive my careless insights For I followed the news of freedom for women But regretfully never thought for myself nor Thought of your lives at all, until forty years Past your deaths and my mistake… May God bless you in heaven And please forgive my ignorance
*** My poem was prompted because Bill Maher said callous jokes on TV last night about fetal tissues. I haven’t stopped crying. If I could hate or curse him I would, but instead, will stand up for the unborn. My poem: