275: The Stepping Stones to Glory

From Twin Flame on Facebook

I was prepared for this time.

I was prepared by prophecy and my angels.

Fifteen years ago, when I was in my late-twenties, I heard my angels; they told me: “You are going to write your story. You are going to write to heal others and yourself. But it won’t be for a long time. You still have a lot to go through. You will not use your real name and you will not make money. This is your gift.”

A year before that, a seer  told me: “The best part of your life will begin in your early forties, when half of your life is over. Until then your life will be very hard. Your life career will change, and I see you in front of many people teaching and touching people all over the world.”

Eight years ago, during a powerful vision, I was told to write my story to heal others and to heal myself. I was told I would not be writing for profit. That I was not to make money or this would take away from the healing. I was told to start writing. I fell asleep and dreamt I was a giant oak tree, and people were gathered around me in unity celebrating and crying. They were healing through me, through my journey. When I opened my Bible, after I woke up, the Book fell open to the passage of the tree on the hill and the prophet. I began writing that day.

Seven years ago, a seer told me: “Everyday You Write the Book, the spirit of your grandfather is here singing this song. You will write and your words will reach people in a profound way, and you will bring healing to the world. It will touch people in a way you never imagined.”

Two years ago people began to remark on the healing energy surrounding me and of my “glow.”

Last year, a seer told me: “You are going to write. You are going to teach. You are going to reach people, and help them to heal.”

Having been told in several ways my destiny, there was definitely many times I felt inadequate, and many other times I felt I was insane.

There were times I pleaded to God to make my passion to heal the world stop.

Times I pleaded not to see and know so much.

I wanted a normal life.

I wanted the simple.

Still, after the vision of the oak tree, I spent everyday for a year, (except one day), writing. The end result was a release of so much negative energy and past wounds that I sank into a deep depression.

I cursed the heavens for what they had ‘made’ me do, and for the resulting failures. My writing wasn’t up to par. My skills were mediocre at best. After a year of tears and sweat, there was still so much more work to do.

I took a year off. Not planning to write ever again. The prophesies and my angels were clearly mistaken, and I was surely crazy.

The third year I was called again, and spent months redrafting my first writings. Still no luck. No one would look at my work. No publisher, at least.

But still this longing. I was supposed to write. I had to write. The second draft was not one of sorrow, but one of rage. I was so angry at my mother and for my past. I spent months in isolation and pushing others away.

I rested, almost another year, before writing again. The third draft was magic. My heart sang. The anger and sorrow released. And there was a lovely healing rhythm and love to my writing. The third draft was of forgiveness. By the end, when my manuscript was done, a large part of my past was healed.

Still no audience, though. No way to share my works.

I let it go. I’d done all I could. A part of me gave up. A part of me thought everything was just a coincidence, and that I only heard my angels to make myself feel special. I cried over the loss of my calling. And I mourned a part of me. Primarily my ego.

It wasn’t until this year that I began to share some of those writings and much new writing through this blog..

I hadn’t realized that just like my grandfather had sung those many years back: Everyday she writes the book.

I had absolutely no idea I would be writing for an audience any larger than a handful of people. Mostly, I wrote for me. I wasn’t intending to heal or help anyone, but myself. I’d let go completely of my calling, at least in regards to healing others through writing.

Slowly, through the months, I began to see that what I had been told all along was coming to fruition—the reaching others around the world, the different name, the no need or desire for profit.

The last seer I saw, a little over a year ago, she said I had the gift of creating a safe haven for people. I was a guardian of sorts. I didn’t understand then.

Remarkably, in the last months, through this blog, I have healed more than I ever thought imaginable. Not just at a physical level, but at a spiritual level, and even at a cellular place.

My husband and I both agree that the light in me has returned, a light I think I lost about the age of thirteen, when the fear of what life entailed set in.

Age Thirteen Me 8th grade

At times, I truly feel like I went away for a couple decades, just slipped out because life was too much. I don’t know who took my place, but it wasn’t me. I look back at this woman I was, and I don’t recognize her. I truly don’t. I love her. I know she was in essence a part of me. But she wasn’t me.

This is Eleven Years ago. My son with ASD and Me 399296_4993278079825_2087537885_n

I know the light returned because despite the trials of my life, I never gave up hope. I never let the world destroy my heart. I never stopped loving. I never stopped believing I could make a difference. Even when I wanted to die, my angels led me forward by reminding me to: Think of the Children. I know that in addition to my three sons (all birthed on a Sunday) that they meant the children of the world.

I’ve known since I was a very young child I would be called to be a healer. Probably at the age of four, when I stopped eating lamb as I didn’t have the heart for it. Probably again when I was nine, and I hid in the bushes weeping as I couldn’t comprehend the vastness of the universe and the depths of human suffering. Probably too, when as a child I would sit with people in convalescent homes by myself, just so I could be near the lonely at heart.  I knew I was a healer when I became a teacher, and later when I served as an advocate for children with special needs. I knew too, when I began to write.

What I didn’t know is the profound effect the healing would have on my own life and journey. I didn’t know how deeply I would be blessed.

Today I woke up frightened. I felt like I regressed. I began to cry. The fear was back. I couldn’t see a way out.

All about me the walls closed in. I became immobile, unable to do anything but feel and respond to the fear. My body shut down. I had pain everywhere. I was taking on the world, taking on the fear, taking on the dark.

I couldn’t stop.

I was brought back to a place I sat months ago. To a place I don’t wish to return.

But this time something was different. I had another me. A stronger me. And she was there holding me and cheering me on.

She shook me out of my place. She made me reach out. She made my light shine. She led me back to the amazing place I created on a social network site, filled with the most beautiful, caring of souls.

A safe place.

And I reached out.

I wrote: Please send me positive vibes….not doing well today physically. Frustrated. Thanks so very much. xoxoxo Brain fog, too. ♥ love to you all.

Within moment, before me, people reached out in all forms and ways from all over the world.

I received messages of:


Wind from the Valley

Positive Vibes

Positive Energy



Lots of Love

Sorry you are having a rough time

Looking North

Much love Sweetheart

Big Bear Hugs

Loving healing bubbles of light

Dark Chocolate

Smiley Faces

Mashed Potato


Within a few minutes my pain dissipated, my fear decreased ten-fold, and I was able to breathe again. I was able to live again, and to find myself.

I was only lost for a moment, just long enough to be reminded that I am never ever going to be alone again.

Just long enough to know that I have created through vulnerability, honest, and pureness of heart the most wonderful place that draws to it the most wonderfulest of souls.

If ever there was to be a people I’d want to cherish, it would be these people. For they face challenges upon challenge. They face ridicule, displacement, misery, isolation, worry, dread, and pain on a daily basis. Their days are never easy. Their minds always searching.

And still they shine; they shine like no others, giving and loving unconditionally.

They have freed me. As have the people who read my words. And the people who write to me. The people who hold me in love and in thought. The people who thank me. They have freed me. You have freed me.

If there is one thing I could tell you, I would say this: Be you. Be the best you that you can be. Shine your light so brightly that your own soul sings out in celebration. And then watch how the light follows you, how the world unfolds, how your richest and purest dreams become the steppingstones to glory.

Thank you from every part of me. Thank you.

Photo on 12-12-12 at 2.02 PM
Me today.

271: Faucet Thoughts: The Psychic Vending Machine

Twelve Year Old Trivia: ^ I like to dance half-naked half-dressed with a pink hairbrush-microphone to this song. ^

Now the Serious Stuff…… Faucet Thoughts….

I need a brain drain, a faucet at the tip of one of my lobes that I can twist on and off (preferably without pain or damage), as to allow the excess energy splattering and bouncing about my mind to exit.

I imagine a thick flood of information all rushing down a canal and then rapidly caravanning into the corners, until at last, having entirely flooded the space, a small light appears in the distance, and all blabbering-goop charges forth in eager fashion in hopes of being the first to plunge out of a narrow pipe.

Alas, I have no faucet and no pipe…and so the faucet takes its form in the way of words: agreed upon symbols thrown together in distinct and exact order in an attempt to convey random images of the mind.

It’s not an easy task, using words. They are so limiting, yet so utterly delightful. I could eat them at times, some words, for their pure delicacy and taste, their richness, their potential, their rhythm, their purpose.

Other words I’d rather grind into the ground with spiked high-heeled shoes—red shoes preferably; though I have no idea why.

People trigger my thoughts.

I suppose I’m like a soul detective of sorts.

I sense things about my environment and people and animals to an extreme degree.

I can readily tell, within minutes of meeting someone, about that person’s worries, challenges, and battles. I can see the hidden secrets and sense the front a person puts on to protect him or herself. Sometimes people have a thick shield around them. Sometimes I sense an actual guard. When dealing with addiction, especially alcohol, there is sometimes no shield at all, but a pretend peek inside, where everything is perfect with no troubles.

Upon meeting a friend of a friend, I might tell my friend my first impressions of her friend, not in a gossiping or mean way, but strictly as analysis. Even after a two-minute conversation and a handshake, I can usually (so far always) give an accurate description of the person.

I can tell right away about the energy of a commenter on my blog, only through their words. I feel and hear their energy, and I hear messages , such as: sad, lonely, wanting, curious, angry, etc. I feel the sensations in my body at times. Sometimes I can’t shake the energy off of me.

I experience the following on a daily basis:

clairvoyance (clear seeing)

clairaudience (clear hearing)

clairempathy (sensing of emotional experience of others)

claircognizance (clear knowing or psychic knowing)

clairsentience (clear feeling)  “Clairsentience relates to the sense of touch. It is the ability to perceive energy fields through physical sensations using Psychic senses. This includes auras, vibrations, and the presence of entities. When you get a “gut feeling” about something, you are using your clairsentience. What you’re doing is using your second chakra, the spleen center, to sense things on an emotional level. Clairsentience can pick up what other people are feeling. Clairsentience often works with another ability called precognition. Precognition is the ability to know what is going to happen in advance.” Source http://www.theintuitpathway.com/temple/claires.htm

Through clairaudience I hear my angels. They are a singular voice, primarily, the sound of my own inner voice. However the words are always uplifting, nonjudgmental, supportive and encouraging. Ultimately, they are my cheerleaders, advocates, protectors and validators. So far they have always been right. They laugh when I debate or try to change their ways. I am stubborn with them, and they treat me with unconditional respect and love. They remind me of my divine worth, but above all my equality with all, how I am no lesser and no greater. They tease me about my constant request for humility, and my constant worry I am not worthy enough in their eyes. They remind me I am human and to release the guilt and shame. They remind me that anything can change and that all transitions.

I have grown a lot in the understanding of my abilities in just the last few weeks. I understand  that sometimes the worries and anxiety I have are simply not my own.  Some of the images I see that I think are dread and fear of my own manifestation are actually a future flashing before my eyes. When I feel certain pains in my body, sometimes the pain is not my own. I am becoming more fine-tuned with my abilities, and as I tune in and analyze what is happening, I am finding more peace of mind.

I am now keenly aware of some of the knowings I have during my day.  In just twenty-four hours I saw through visions and through sensing in my body the following events:

a person having a cold that involved continually dripping of the eyes and drainage of the nose, with the inability to stop the dripping; I saw this as a vision throughout the day of a person’s face with lines pouring out of the eyes and nose. (The person in question was a close friend’s daughter falling ill the next day. Because she has special needs, she is challenged by the task of nose blowing. Her eyes were also watering a lot.)

a person having a lump under their left armpit. I sensed this while standing at a mirror. I had the urge to feel beneath my left armpit for a lump; something I do not do and hadn’t done in years. (My good friend called me the next morning and said: “I just wanted to make sure you aren’t picking up on me and my energy, as I found a lump under my left arm, and I know how you worry and think it is your own body.”)

a sharp pulling and tugging and pain of my left arm, enough to make me gasp and take a pain reliever. A pain I hadn’t experienced in years and that went away by the next day. (A lost dog appeared at my door, moments after posting my cats and dogs post, who had an injured front left leg and was being pulled on a leash by a person searching for the dog’s home. My pain diminished in half upon seeing the dog.)

an  inner voice saying I needed to buy a bath brush, and the actual bath brush visually popping out at me in the store aisle, as if glowing and calling my name. (I never buy bath brushes. When I got home my husband said he wanted a bath brush for Christmas; we’ve never owned one and he’s never requested one before.)

a vision of a flood of water near an electrical cord, a panicked feeling of electrocution. (Moments later I went upstairs to find a large puddle of water on the kitchen counter, a result of a spill, with an electrical cord in the center.) {In the past I would have thought I was being paranoid or overly fearful; now I recognize my feelings as a vision, as precognition.}

Sometimes I ask my angels for signs. This week, as I am quirky, I wanted to see the shape of an apple in an odd place. I was thinking like a walking, man-sized mascot apple or something like that. An unpredictable image that signified a certain relationship was safe and beneficial. My angels have the most remarkable sense of humor; as I was eating corn chips, I noticed the entire center of one chip was missing, except for an outline, and the missing piece was in the exact shape of an apple.

Yesterday, while in my sauna, I asked to see a sign of something flying outside my window. Not a butterfly, but something small and lovely. I have a very limited view from where I sit inside my sauna, but I can see the upper half of a tall pine tree. As I sat resting, I spotted a humming bird flying between the branches of the pine tree. It’s the first humming bird I’ve seen during the winters here.

Also, sometimes I ask for messages in the form of written word, and will open a book to find an answer to my soul’s desire. I recently was comforted by a passage from a Buddhist text. The message in summary said that although you are centered in self with acute awareness of life and energy, you are human and will still experience extremes of emotions.

I needed to know that my emotions were okay. I needed to be reminded that I am human.

I’m not quite sure why I’m sharing all of this today. I think I am being called to explore my abilities more, and to perhaps rekindle the vocation I began two years ago.

I’ve learned in the past couple of months to trust my body’s intuition. For instance, I focus on an idea for my future vocation or question a feasible goal, and then sense how these thoughts cause me to feel inside my body. I’ve learned to side-step logic and trust in my inner feelings. This has greatly reduced the pressure I place on myself mentally to make a decision. I have read and studied an abundant of works, and as a result have floating inside of me constant variants on what is the correct and incorrect way to respond, behave and choose. I have found that relying on all the endless data that feeds and scaffolds off of itself, is much more wearisome and exhausting than simply pausing, breathing in a thought, and then gently feeling how this thought feels. If the thought feels comforting without any degree of resistance, I then have a knowing that I am balanced and at peace in the decision. If I feel resistance of any form, I let the thought go with the intention of revisiting the thought, if and when needed, in the future. For the present I let my body remained balanced.

As of late, I have also noticed I have little to no anger for anyone, anything, or any event. I have moments of frustration, but usually that is once a day, if at all. I have no anger for myself, either.  I have no worries about me as a person, beyond finding balance between my gifts and daily functioning. And even this is not so much a worry, but a careful observation.

I’ve also seemed to have developed, or rather awakened, a form of medical intuitiveness. A dear friend recently confided in me about her diagnosis of lupus. (I had a vision of lupus moments before she called me.) After a few conversations about the subject, I had a clear knowing. I informed her that during her upcoming appointment that the specialist would tell her that the blood tests were wrong and that she did not have lupus. I also told her that what concerned me most was her past diagnosis of Hepatitis C and that I believed that was either a wrong diagnosis or had disappeared. I would soon find that I was correct on both accounts.

My friend called, relieved, and said: “You should be a doctor.” I had to laugh and remind her that the doctors were the ones that were wrong to begin with.

And one last thought. I used to have a terrible time with criticism and rejection. Now I often do not react if I am “attacked” by words. In fact, just this week, twice I was able to step back from what I would deem mean statements and spend very little time and energy on the matter.

I am a reflection of light and love.

I have an inner core of purity, peace and goodwill.

How someone else choses to see me is their business, and their business alone.

I choose to keep my eyes focused on beauty.


As I’m sitting in my bathtub, soaking up the dead sea salts and listening to a visualization sound-therapy selection on my I-Pod, and thinking how awesomely good the acoustics are in my bathroom, and floating somewhat out of my body, I realized: No wonder I’m fricken tired all the time….on top of having Aspie traits, I’m a non-stop psychic vending machine. 


This morning I was sitting on the couch, partaking in an intensely deep conversation with my significant other, regarding my complex logical perception of love. I am having eloquent revelations and profound understandings, and expressing myself with humility and clarity. Aglow with knowledge and inner light, I sit basking in the element of essence. Wow, connecting with spirit is awesome!

“Ding-Dong,” the doorbell rings. I jump off of the couch in fear, taking a defensive pose, crouching and speeding to the staircase, while screeching and giggling, “I have to run downstairs and hide!”

I love me.

Post 244: This is how it goes

I think of blogging several times throughout my day.

I am processing much. Particularly where I’ve traveled since starting this writing journey.

I feel I’m at a crossroad, where I’ve healed enough in myself to start sharing more about my coping strategies (yay!), with less of a need to mentally and emotionally spill and reflect. I’m trusting in this process and the timing, and am excited to see what will arise.

Thank you for being here.

I am a bit behind on answering comments. I’ve been continuing to focus on balance in my life, and taking care of my needs and my family’s needs. Comments are always appreciated and read with love. Not answering every comment is growth for me. However, I do intend to go back and answer the more urgent questions.

I’ve had to release some guilt, slowly. I was reading over fifty blogs when I first started. My life was blogging for several months. Everything else took a backseat. Now that I’ve regained balance, I haven’t felt the desire to read blogs. I still love the people I connect and connected with through blogging, and hold them in thought many, many times each day. If you are one of the people who blogs and we share(d) a connection, know you still hold a HUGE place in my heart, and that I am at a new place on my path at the moment. Know you are loved and held in high regard. I have a facebook page listed atop this blog; please feel free to friend me.

I will continue to write at Everyday Asperger’s, but only when I feel called to do so, and am able to remain balanced in all aspects of my life.

I am for the most part truly, truly happy and at peace with who I am and my calling in life. I think this is reflected in my eyes and smile. I know it is reflected in my energy.

I am doing better with my health.

I have discovered coffee has giving me much more energy (who would have thought–wink-wink) and the ability to lift my mood. I read in a study (laughing to myself, as I seem to like to read studies, and know that studies are contradictory, often funded by money-hounds, and certainly ever-changing and debatable..but tossing all that aside)… I read in a study that 20% of people can cure depression through coffee; I’ve excepted (darn homophone)…I’ve accepted, I either am the 20% or I made this fact a truth in my life!

The downfall: Coffee does make me organize and reorganize and reorganize. I think I’ve cleaned and reorganized my bathroom medicine cabinet four times now. And, I tend to ramble and talk more, with caffeine. However, the substance is working wonders for my mind and pain-relief; so I’ll take a little organizing-OCD-bug.

Also, I have decided I am allergic to all earth food, beyond coffee (cream and sugar) and dark chocolate…oh and water. Because, as soon as I eat anything, I become instantly depressed, insecure, nervous, fatigued and in pain. I spend my “eatless” mornings and “eatless” afternoons very productive and content, knowing once I eat, I will likely have to rest on the couch and fight off negative thoughts and pain. (I like the word eatless, but don’t try to text the word because auto-spell-correct can see only “earless.”)

I’m back to processing what I look like. hmmmmm?

Today the following thoughts are on my mind…well at least for twenty minutes they were. I think I’ve had about forty other subjects pop up since opening this document to write….coffee again.

This is how it goes.

This is how it goes. I dream of my liver, that my liver is damaged, that I need to go to the doctor and get tests.  I wake up knowing I’m fine, but feeling the dread of upcoming tests. Someone else’s feelings are with me.

Two days later, a relative called and has to go in for liver tests.

The dream makes sense.

This is how it goes. I have a thought of giving coats to school. I have a bag of coats in my closet that are too small for my son. All day I think of whom to give the coats to. It’s like a moving picture in my mind. Whom to ask? The thought keeps circling.

Hours later, my son comes home from school with a note about families in need of clothing and other items.

The thoughts stop.

This is how it goes. I wake up at 4:45 am with thoughts and cannot get back to bed. I look in the mirror and have a bite on my cheek. My mind spins. I keep thinking of the butterfly rash that accompanies the auto-immune condition lupus. I know I do not have lupus, but I can’t stop checking my cheek in the mirror. I can only think of lupus. I can only think to check.

Soon, my good friend calls. She was up most the night. Her doctor just called to say she has lupus.

The crying starts.

This is how it goes. I wake up with dread, with unexplained fear. I am worried. Something is going to happen.

That day a friend has a breakdown. Instantly my dread is gone and I am better.

The relief comes.

This is how it goes. I haven’t been to a particular store in months; no interest, no want. A voice inside says, “Go today. Go today.” I fight the voice. The voice still comes. “Just go. Only for fifteen minutes. Just go.” I drive.

I arrive to find the dresser I’ve been visualizing in my mind for the past couple months. The exact antique dresser I’ve wanted for my room at the Goodwill for only $40. Mint condition. Lovely. The entire transaction from finding the dresser, paying for dresser, and helpers placing dresser in trunk of van takes exactly fifteen minutes.

The joy comes.

This is how it goes.


The past few days I’ve been analyzing actresses on television and how their hair affects the way they look. Somewhere in my head, I got stuck with the thought that if I don’t look nice in every photo I take, then I truly look like the ugliest photo.

I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to be narcissistic for one day, and believe I always look like the best photo? But NO, my little brain thinks I MUST look like the worse photo. Of course, this is the same brain, who somewhere along the road, gathered the baggage that if I don’t look beautiful with my hair unbrushed, makeup off, and in frumpy, stained clothes, then I am not naturally beautiful. The same mind that played tricks on me and told me that if I wear make up and fix my hair up and take a nice photo that that is a lie, and fake, and not the real me to begin with. So if someone gives me a compliment, while I’m fake, then the compliment is not real either! The same brain that told me all these years that when someone tells me I’m beautiful or pretty that he or she is just saying that because truthfully I’m hideous and they are trying to lift my spirits. That, in truth, the entire world is in a conspiracy to make me think I’m lovely, because in truth when they look at me they feel sorry for me. OH, MY GOSH! Growth, growth, growth.

My son took a photo of me with his new camera today. For the first time, I thought logical thoughts upon seeing a photo of myself. I heard this in my head: “Oh, I have a triple-chin because he is little and taking the photo from down low. I look different in all angles and lighting. This is not a true reflection of me.”

Much better than my standard: “Oh no! I can never leave the house again. I am a triple-chinned monster and everyone is pretending not to see it!”

Here is something I did for fun:

First photo is a few minutes before the other photo.

Between the photos, I simply put on a sweater, eye makeup, and lipstick. Hair behind ears, head tilted different direction.

I really am fascinated with how lighting, clothes, hairstyle, and makeup affects photos.

Oh…and Yes…for those of you joining, this ENTIRE blog is about my vanity and ego….giggles

Before photo. No make up.
A few minutes later.

Now, of these three photos which one is the real me?

Answer: All of them!

I am like a flower. Different in all angles, all lighting, and in each season; whether the season is a day, month, or life. God Bless all the me’s and all the you’s. xoxo ~ Sam

I almost forgot…here’s the dresser:

Post 238: Seeing the Future

I believe in precognition and seeing the future. I believe in knowing people from another time or place. I’ve had dreams since I was a young girl of future events. When I was a child, I would predict the death of my pets. Later, I would foresee car accidents. As an adult, friends would appear in my dreams and tell me about what was happening in their lives. Months before I knew my family and I were moving to Washington State, I saw our future home, our future town, our future landlords, and a future car accident, in a dream.

In my early forties, when job circumstances altered for my husband, I utilized the change of employment tide to encourage my husband to search beyond California for work. For years, I’d felt called to move up north to Oregon or Washington. I longed for the clean air, the thick forests of trees, and to be near water.

A week into our job search, my husband was contacted by an old colleague via email. The colleague and my husband hadn’t spoken in years, and she did not know my husband was job searching. At this exact time of our search, she happened to email a job possibility in Washington State.  As it turned out the job did not pan out. However, a week later, once again the same colleague emailed with another job.

This time, after extensive interviewing, my husband was offered a job in Washington.

Months before we ever started considering the real possibility of moving out-of-state, I had dreamt of our soon-to-be home in Washington.

I remember because I awoke with a feeling of knowing after the dream and had later phoned my mother to tell her the details of the dream.

I had dreamt of a house set up on a hill with many large windows overlooking a beautiful body of water. A woman and her husband, both dressed in Hawaiian attire, had greeted us at the door of the home. The woman had shown me around the house, as if I was to live there. She directed me to look over the water and said: “This will be a place of healing for you.”

Then she pointed to walking trails and a local farmers market. I remember thinking how odd to have a farmers market outside your window. At the end of the dream, there was a flash, and I saw a vehicle crash, with images of tires rolling and a huge impact. I woke up bewildered and startled.

Fast forward months later, in the state of Washington on a mad-dash, house-hunting weekend, we (family of five + my mom) just happened to be one of the first families to query about an advertisement about a home for rent. Though after learning over the phone about the circumstances surrounding the home, we deduced it wasn’t the right timing for us to move into this particular house: they didn’t take dogs, there was no fenced yard, and we weren’t certain about the area. Regardless, the homeowner who had placed the advertisement on a whim felt an immediate connection to me over the phone.

The landlady insisted we come over to meet her. She wanted to at least show us around the neighborhood. When we arrived, she opened the front door and said, “Welcome home.” Upon seeing one another, we both instantly felt we had met before.

The house was like the house in my dream, set upon a hill with large windows over looking the water. I soon learned the owners were moving to Hawaii. Later that day, the landlady took us to the local Farmer’s Market.

We rented the house pretty much on the spot, despite the timing and perceived conflicts. Not waiting more than a few hours to make up our mind. We’d make the situation work. We made an immediate connection with the owners.

Before the move, my husband had to go up north to work, a month prior to the kids and me arriving. During my husband’s visit to the house we were to lease in Washington, the owner told my husband this: “I really like your mother-in-law, I really like you, but I am giving this home to you because I feel it will be a place of healing for Sam.”

I had never told my husband the words the woman had spoken in my dream; only my mother had known.

All the pieces of the dream were fitting together, except for the car accident I had seen.

I’d mentioned the accident to my mother, and was nervous to drive my children on the eleven-hour road trip back up to Washington.

A few days before I was to drive to Washington, I drove to the bay area in California with my mother. While driving on the freeway, I panicked, turned to my mom and, after reminding her of the dream,  said, “I have a lot of anxiety right now, with all of these trucks and large vehicles around us.”

Minutes later, a tire on a truck blew, directly in front of us on the freeway, and pieces of rubber flew out. We were fine, and the anxiety left.

I tried to convince myself that the tire blow out that had just occurred was the accident in my dream. After all, it was in the same time period. Even said so this to my mother.  Close enough, I told myself.

Still…..the feeling remained.

A few days later, on the way up north to Washington, with the van jammed pack with people, animals, our belongings, and a friend who was coming along to assist, we stopped at a hotel in Oregon. The hotel staff confused our reservation and gave us an inadequate sized room.

I decided it was best to leave the hotel and travel more. I wasn’t tired, after all.

Back on the road, during our search for another hotel, I was in the fast lane, moving along at an average speed, when directly in front of me, some four to five car-lengths ahead, an old-style silver motor home blew a tire.

Large chunks of tire came flinging towards our windshield, bumped off the van, and splattered and spun down the highway.

A knowing came over me: a remembering.

I gently hit the brakes and turned on my hazard lights.

The motorhome driver could not gain control. The vehicle started wobbling to the left, to the right, and back and forth, tilting this way and that, faster and faster, and closer and closer towards the road. There was nowhere for me to go. Cars were breaking behind. And there was a steady flow of traffic to my right. The shoulder to my left was a ditch of dirt. At my speed we’d crash, if I tried to pull over in the dirt.

I watched trembling, as the motorhome started spinning like a top at full speed, backwards towards us. I thought this might be the end. If that vehicle hit us, we would be crushed.

Seconds passed in slow motion.

I took a deep breath.

An hour before I had told my friend sitting in the passenger seat that because of my prior dream months ago, I felt protected on this journey.

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

The motorhome made a final spin before it tipped over onto its side and did several three-sixties, turning round and round, crashing and crashing, sending up clouds of dust.

At first I feared the vehicle was coming towards us. But it slid rapidly on its side, across the ditch, in a direction horizontal to us, all the way across to the other side of the freeway and oncoming traffic.

With a loud thump, the motorhome came to its final landing.

People from all directions came running towards the vehicle to help. I pulled over to the right side on the roadside, too shaken to move. Then my friend sitting next to me said exactly what I needed to hear. She said, “You know, if it hadn’t been you directly behind the motor home, if someone else had been driving and following closer behind, it could have been a lot worse.”

Her words comforted me.

I realized then that no one outside of the occupants of the motorhome had been involved in the collision. No fender benders, no spinning off the road, no severe braking. Everything around had remained calm.

Day 152: Sometimes When We Touch

 “I’m just another writer still trapped within my truth.” ~ Dan Hill

Sometimes when I dream, the honesty is too much.  Sometimes when I dream, I travel into the life and spirit of a friend. Sometimes strangers visit me. Always, always people come, in all forms, with all types of messages. And we touch.

Recently, I’ve had two friends visit in my dreams, just in this last six days. Both dreams were filled with extreme emotion, both dreams had anxiety, both involved an urgency. When I awake from dreams such as these, I am left with a residue, a film in my spirit, something that remains, the remnants of what was shared with me. A streak in the glass of my vision I can’t wipe clean.

If I am fortunate enough to confirm the happening in the dream, and make a connection, and find some validity in discovering what I sensed actually occurred in real life, I am able to discharge and remove some of the energy. If not, sometimes I take on the feelings of the other person, become overly concerned about something I do not understand and cannot even pinpoint. I may feel a rush of panic, fear, or injustice. I might weep. I might laugh. I might become hyper focused. I might hibernate; attempting to disrobe the feelings, only to emerge still weighed down and lost. I take on this energy, as much as I take on the dreams, without knowing how or why, and without knowing how to stop.

Sometimes I want to break down and cry. Sometimes I have to close my eyes and hide. The emotions are so overwhelming. I feel like I’ve been opened up and had another’s spirit poured into me. At times I become that person. At times I understand the person more than myself.

I dreamt once, years ago, of my long time friend. She was stretched out on a car and pointing to her kidneys and kept saying, “I need a bladder operation; the doctor told me I need a bladder operation.” I called my friend the next morning, and sure enough she had just found out she required surgery related to the tubing above her bladder.

Long ago, while I was napping my grandmother started wafting above my bed, a ghostly apparition draped in an aqua-colored dress. Swaying back and forth, an inch below the bedroom ceiling, she kept repeating the same phrase:  “Wake up.  Get off the phone.  I am waiting for a man from Egypt to call.” This made absolutely no sense to me, as I was sound asleep some two hundred miles away from Grandma, and I most certainly wasn’t on the telephone.  Still dreaming, and wanting desperately to get some rest, I looked up at Grandma and answered, “But I’m not on the phone.  I’m taking a nap.”

Grandma continued on, a stream of blue, weaving herself back and forth in my room, badgering me to get off the telephone.  Having found no luck, after I placed two pillows over my head to block out her voice, I sat up and screamed, “If you leave me alone, I’ll call you when I wake up.  Go away and let me sleep!”  On my words, Grandma vanished.

Within the hour I phoned my grandmother.  After a few minutes on the phone, I delicately described my dream to her, thinking at some point she’d say I wasn’t making any sense, and that would be the end of the discussion.  Surprisingly, Grandma responded, without pause for breath, “You’re a witch! I’ve been sitting by the phone waiting for a man from Egypt to call me about his interest in buying my house.  How did you know? Actually, I need to get off the phone now.  He might be trying to call.”

Years ago, I dreamt that two of my teaching colleagues would be going to Japan by the end of the year. They both came to my dream together and told me. That year both were surprised to learn they were traveling to Japan. One was accepted in an over-seas teaching program; the other unexpectedly was invited by a host family. Another time an old woman, a stranger,  came to me in my dream very upset. She said that my mother was going through her items and taking them, keeping them for herself. She showed me the room where the items were spread out. She showed me my mother holding her things. I told my mother the next day, and sure enough my mother had been to a friend’s house and had collected several items from her friend’s mom whom had just died.

There are so many visits, I could go on and on: a family drowned on the beach, my future house and the owners of the house, my future employer, my car accident, my grandfather’s car accident, my mother-in-law’s cancer, my friend house hunting, the person dying in the car off the highway, my husband’s co-worker getting married and denying it, my son’s karate teacher getting engaged, friends divorcing, friends weeping on couches …..so many various people visiting me to tell me about their lives.

When I was very little, animals visited me and showed me their death. Usually my pets, but once a friend’s bunny came in my dream. The animals usually died just like they showed me within seven days. Once my canary was slashed under the eye by a stray cat. Once my dog died on the Fourth of July after jumping a fence. The dreams came true, just as I had witnessed. Thank goodness I was able to tell my mother the night of the dreams, which then I called nightmares. She was at least able to validate my experience. To show me my dreams were coming true and I wasn’t insane.

Interestingly, it seems lately the more I share and write, and the more I am not afraid to be authentic and honest, the more these dreams and feelings are coming. And the more I’m visited.  I don’t mind the visits for the most part. I feel honored and know this gift or ability, or whatever one choses to call my visions, is a part of my journey. But there are definite times, like this week, when the emotions are so over powering that I don’t know what to say or do.

It’s times like these that sometimes when we touch, sometimes the honesty is too much. And then, all I want to do is to just hold my friend and cry, to hold on tight and not let go until the fear in us subsides.