WE ARE ONE

He was moving. I AM were the first words he heard. He could feel the cold all around him and a shroud covering him head to toe. It began to shrink until it was no longer there. He began to ask himself how long he had been there. He knew only that he had been there longer than he could count. He tried to remember how he came to be here but there were no answers.

Finally, he could feel his fingers and began moving them up and down. Tingling sensations emerged. He opened his eyes, moved his mouth and felt the sensation of breathing, slowly at first as consciousness slowly seeped back into his being. He was floating somewhere, nowhere but everywhere at the same time. Suddenly there was an urge to kick, hit or slap something to tell himself where he was.

All around him was a mist, a cloying fog that he could not pull off himself. It stuck to him. No shapes, no sounds were present as a point of reference. He had a powerful urge to yell, to scream, to shout, to fight against whatever it was that held him here.

The wife stood at the window where she had been for some time now. She had performed this ritual every night for what seemed like an eternity sending the same pleas through the dream catcher wishing for his return. There had been no goodbyes, no warning, no bolt of lightning. He was just gone.

The well-wishers were there at first many with pats on the shoulder. Some were sincere but most were empty promises. Gradually one by one they left. The Shaman came now, the Ancient One, placing his hand on her shoulder speaking softly, reassuring her of the re-connection. The number 2021 flashed in many colors of energy all around them. At first, she touched his hand for reassurance but after a while, she did not need it any more. She felt stronger now with each passing moment. Every night she stood a little straighter, no tears on her face, only her jaw and chin pointing straight toward the center of the dream catcher with steely determination.

She would not allow herself to pity either one of them. She knew now he would return. She knew now why he had left.

She understood now that he would come back with a sense of purpose.

A stone obelisk appeared to them in Pangea, a stone of the blackest shade, so dark that no light was in it or on it. A hundred feet in height, standing strong against the elements—earth, wind, fire and water, it was now seen by many, even by the satellite known by all the earthly tribes with an never ending stream of devotees, respectful of its power, the mystery of its purpose unknown except to a few. On its face were over 500,000 names of those who had passed through its portal.

After a time the matriarch appeared pointing him silently toward the black tower in her black gown covered with a sash covered with topaz, ruby, emerald, amber and diamond stones—covering the warrior priestess with truth, the blood of rebirth, cleansing and courage. Lightning filled the sky and the number 3021 flashed around the obelisk as a door opened and the fog cleared. He felt energy return to his legs and the voice of The Matriarch spoke,

“Go back.”

The portal drew him inward, his heart pounding loudly in his chest toward the dream catcher with feathers blowing with every breath he took, each one less labored. She watched as the whispering emerged from within the healing circle. She could feel his energy returning, then his hand on her shoulder. He had returned with a purpose. Together they were strong. Around her neck he placed a gift, a pendant, an oval deep blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds. Their healing and the healing of the planet had begun. Together they were ONE.

THE WRITER had a car accident in 2001 that left him unable to walk or feed himself. It took him seven years until he was able to return to work after much physical, cognitive and occupational therapy. Three years into this struggle, he began to lose his physical sight. This began a new challenge of learning how to tap into his hindsight, insight and foresight. He and his wife had always been highly intuitive but had to rely a lot more now on these gifts than ever before.

This is the tale of the dreams and visions he and his wife had over two decades. In March of 2018, the writer was back in the hospital again fighting for his life. He had a grand mal seizure. He had never had seizures before in his life. He had just turned 60 years old. He had a thyroid storm in the middle of a blizzard on the night of a full moon. For three days and nights he was hospitalized with his wife at his side. To this day, he has only vague memories of what happened there. This happened the same month his mother died. The loss of his own mother came three days after the 44^th anniversary of the death of his wife’s mother.

Thus began a spiritual journey into the unknown to combine their courage and strength to rediscover the new normal, the path to fullness of life. They began searching for some way to renew hope, to restore their relationship and to get beyond the loss of what was missing and to combine their intuitive energies working together as one body, melding their sense of purpose into one to become better and better every day.

 It is the hope of the writer that those who have a sense of loss will find some hope in what he and his family have been through as their own dreams and visions guiding them to find a purpose in the suffering and loss, re-emerging with devotion to each other and to a Higher Power.

Together we have entered into a black hole, the worldwide pandemic, unable to see now when we will re-emerge, safer and stronger. The writer hopes that the spiritual Pangea, the original continent where all are joined, will bring us together with a renewed sense of common purpose.