I have had precognition, a profound sense of knowing, the ability to sense emotions in others, and similar experiences since I was very small. The first experience I can recall was when I was about the age of three, when I dreamt our house was on fire. A few days later, my mother woke me up in the middle of my sleep, and brought me outside, as the neighbor’s fence was aflame.
My nightmares came early, about the age of three. Terrible night terrors involving giant insects; the one I remember the most was a grotesque caterpillar that wanted to devour me. When I reached the age of eleven, terrible spirits, that seemed like demons, would come and torture me in my sleep. It was at this time I started having out-of-body experiences, finding myself awake outside of my body, able to see and sense everything in the room (and beyond) but unable to get back into my body.
During my many years of nightmares, once demons placed me over an open fire and spun me on a stick to burn my flesh. Another time, I was out of my body (astral projecting) and a demon was dragging me by my feet down my bed.
I was visited by spirits in the daytime, too, and for a good stretch of a year slept with a rosary around my neck and the bedroom light and television on.
For years after my dog, Justice, died, I would feel him upon my bed next to me and hear him suckling at his backside.
I began to dream of my pets’ deaths, when I was about the age of eight, and would wake up terrified and screaming. My mother always, always without fail, believed in me. She would listen to my nightmares, or what I deemed nightmares, and we’d watch together in the next seven days, as my dreams would manifest into real life.
I’ve had profound experiences in my adult years, including a time I predicted the coming of a large-scale spiritual event in a small town I’d never heard of before. Angel and Mary https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com/?s=angel+and+mary
I’ve dreamt of car crashes that came true. I’ve had friends visit me in dreams and tell me about their lives.
Lately, I’ve had physical symptoms connected to a dear friend. She has gotten to the point now that she calls me to tell me how she is feeling, as I pick up on her health (before she informs me of an ailment), and then I am temporarily overcome with anxiety. The last time was the visualization of a lancing of a cyst near my upper left side. Something my friend later confirmed.
When my husband and I were hoping to move to the Northwest of America, I called upon my angels. I asked: If we are going to move there. If my husband is going to get the job, give me a sign in the next song. The next song on the radio mentioned the exact town my husband’s future job would be, the exact place he was interviewing that day out-of-state. No other songs have the name of this not-so-famous town in their lyrics. And it just so happened, that same day as my husband’s interview, my son’s school went to a minor-league baseball game, and I tagged along. The team the Sacramento River Cats was playing was from, like the song lyrics, the exact town my husband was interviewing in that day.
I believe. I believe in knowings. I believe in what I choose to call my angels.
When I tried to explain these types of events, in limitation, and without too much information, to my psychologist years ago, he quickly scribbled on his notepad some words, and then said, in a classic-Freudian-manner: “Hmmmm. I see. You have what is called: Magical Thinking.”
It was then, I began to think something was wrong with my world, in the way I saw things, and felt things. It was then, I tried to block some of these “magical thinking” experiences out. It would take me several years to realize that when I did not accept what I consider my gifts that I would endure suffering in multiple forms, including physical and mental anguish.
It’s not that I believe I was being punished for trying to stop my natural nature; I think these non-beneficial sensations occurred because I was not being true to myself, and blocking my life potential and calling. When I started to accept my self in completion and follow my inner calling, I began to heal.
I find it very odd that the way I experience aspects of my life is termed: Magical Thinking by mental health professionals. After all, there is proof that the events I experience beforehand come true, and there is evidence that I have accurately picked up on others’ emotions. I find it odd because in other cultures throughout the world, people believe in all types of what would be termed magic, such as shamans’ mystical powers.
It is interesting to me that trained psychologists draw a fine line between magical thinking and spirituality based on core religious beliefs. In other words, the fact that I believe in a higher power and pray to this invisible source, and take refuge in a person dying and coming back to life, is totally acceptable to a person in the mental health field, as these thoughts fall under the pretense of an accepted religious sect. However, if I went into a psychologist office and claimed to be talking to the trees and the spirits of the trees, this would be deemed “magical thinking,” or likely something more derogatory in nature. Only becasuse a psychologist has accepted a spiritual belief as normal based on the consensus and behavior of a majority of people, and in contrast not accepted the spiritual consensus of a minority of people. This seems like a form of prejudice to me. I truthfully don’t understand how mental health professionals can draw a line.
I’m saying all of this because my so-called “magical thinking” has been stronger than ever. I am called to write, and lately to paint. The painting, during the last few days has blossomed for me. I am using mixed media, including paper towels, toothpicks, and today vanilla liquid, and the vanilla bottle cap, to paint with.
As I am creating, I am in prayer and with spirit. Sometimes the process takes more than two hours. I start with my logical mind and a paintbrush in hand, painting symbolic images that are significant to me and reflect angels, love, and peace. Sometimes I first write positive words in pencil on the canvas. Something generally clicks in after an hour, and I begin to disconnect from the logical part of my brain, and spirit takes over, guiding me. I do not know what the end product of my paintings will ever look like. I don’t even know parts of what I am painting, when the second hour sets in.
At the start of my painting, a week or two ago, my angels revealed to me that I would be able to see spirits and love in the end product. I have been pleased and amazed by my last few paintings. The original three were dark and gloomy, as I was processing through much mourning. But the last three have been brilliant in regards to the energy I feel from the images.
As I was painting recently, I felt multiple sensations and saw multiple avenues of energy and energy blockages. I am able to use the paintbrush to open up and free these blockages through wide and free strokes, guided less by me than by another source.
Whether one chooses to call this my creative side, the collective unconscious, my higher-self, my angels, or a helping spirit, makes no difference to me. I am not attached to definitions. But I know for me that this process of painting seems to include a positive force from the light.
Through this process of painting, I have been able to release much angst and worry, and to forget where I am momentarily. Like many artists at work, I am able to escape this reality and fall into my very creation.
The only part I find a bit difficult is pulling out of the rhythm to do manual tasks, such as the act of retrieving a paper towel or cleaning a brush. The rest is a smooth process of freedom.
My angels typically present themselves as one, and speak to me as my own inner voice. I am always filled with intense peace when they are about. They never criticize or judge. There is never harmful intention or ill will. All is perfect and glorious in their world.
A while back, some two years ago, my spirit that guides me presented himself as Stewart of the Light. He instructed me to consider looking up the name Stewart in a book of names; when I did, I discovered the name Stewart means “Helping Spirit.” He giggled at me, as angels have a marvelous sense of humor, when I announced: Helping Spirit of the Light.
Today’s painting, King of Kings, reinforced for me what I can produce (with help) when I listen to my angels. I can see now, as they have told me, that this is a picture of Jesus, both the King of Angels and the King of Kings. His robe is made of vanilla, to represent his sweetness. He has feathers to represent his wings. His “royal” robe is opened to those in need. To his left, the right side of the painting, is a woman. She is both comforting Jesus, praying to Jesus, and weeping at his side.
I do not label myself “religious” or “Christian,” as during the times we live in now the energy behind these specific words can often frighten and harm people. Not intentionally, in many cases, but the words, nonetheless, often still have non-beneficial energy. I do pray there comes a day when these words reflect the wholeness and goodness of Christ’s unconditional love.
I can’t say I am angered by those who try to push their belief system upon others, because I have had a difficult time experiencing anger towards anyone anymore, other than during fleeting moments. But I can say that it saddens me that those that are supposed to represent Christ’s love (by calling themselves Christians) are often times presenting themselves in a way that seems to me to be closed-minded, judgmental, and harmful.
I’m not sure while all of these thoughts are presenting themselves at this moment. Perhaps this is my angels way of wishing you all a Merry Christmas. Perhaps not. Perhaps this is indeed just all magical thinking. In the end, I don’t think any definition applied to my experience and perception truly matters, as long as I am loving myself and others.
Merry Christmas Lovely Souls.
When I began to paint, my angels told me that when I took photos of my paintings I would see helping spirits and angels. I do!
Images of Spirits
New King James Version (NKJV)
You Will Know Them by Their Fruits
“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. 16 You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thornbushes or figs from thistles? 17 Even so, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. 18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 Therefore by their fruits you will know them.”
The other night I had a dream. In the dream a man approached me. He was not of any form I recognized. As hard as I tried, I could not visualize him. Eventually he took the shape of a human, in an appearance he believed I would be comfortable seeing. I knew this because he communicated with me without speaking. He instructed me, without words, to stand there and to shut my eyes. I knew innately, in the whole of me, I had nothing to fear. He faced me, standing close, and stretched out his arm very straight and with much intention. He then placed the whole of his palm upon my forehead, in a form of a blessing or anointment. I understood I was being healed. I saw a brilliant vision of blue, a color I cannot place or recreate. The blue remained until he pulled his hand away. He spoke again without use of his mouth and then placed his palm back upon my forehead. I don’t remember what happened next.
Since this experience, I have had a new-found peace, clarity, and reawakening. I am still me, no doubt, with the complexities of my mind, and the emotions that play out based on other people and my own physical body, but there is a distinct difference inside of me, where in more and more fear and attachment is being released.
Another story you might find interesting. My vision to write