Eyes of an Angel Read online

  As Larissa spoke, a strong feeling of deja vu came over me. Somehow, this felt uncannily familiar. “Have I been here before?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Many times,” she laughed. “You come here often between lives to study the records, to review what you've learned, and to plan for your next incarnation. Everybody does. This is an important step in your continuing development.”

  As we continued wandering through the aisles I noticed for the first time that my charming guide wasn't wearing shoes. I'm not sure why this struck me as odd, but looking around I realized that nobody else wore shoes, and neither did I.

  The building was massive and appeared much larger inside than out. As we passed through the maze of shelves, aisles, and adjacent reading rooms, I caught sight of two other members of our group. My friend Bruce was leaning over a desk in a tiny alcove chatting with a guide, while Robyn, a most wonderful, gentle soul, scanned the titles of several books at the end of the row. Noticing me, she smiled in recognition. I was thrilled to see them. It would be great to compare notes later to verify that we had shared the same experience.

  “Would you like to see your book?” Larissa's soft voice interrupted my contemplation.

  “My book . . . ?” I asked. “Yes, I guess so.” For some reason I felt apprehensive. What would the book reveal? What would it say about me? Who had written it? I wasn't so sure I wanted to know.

  “Oh, please don't worry,” she whispered with a reassuring smile. “You wrote every bit of it yourself. You didn't sit down and write actual words for it, but you provided all the details through the energy of your existence. Everything that you do, say, feel, or even think is an exchange of energy. These life-force imprints are recorded and stored at this level so you can track them and learn from your experience. Every nuance of energy exchange in the astral and lower vibrations is stored here. There are also many higher levels of vibration, but they have their own repositories to record and store their energy impressions.

  “Aahh, here we are.” Larissa stopped near the end of an aisle, reached up and withdrew a book from the shelf. The manuscript itself seemed fairly thick as books go, but I couldn't imagine how it could possibly hold all the details of my life.

  “Oh, it doesn't just contain the information from your present life,” she said. “It holds the story of every incarnation you've experienced on this level, and there are many hundreds of them. It also details your time between lives. It's all here.”

  With that, Larissa led me to a nearby alcove. Inviting me to take a chair, she placed the book on a pedestal in the center of a small round table, and randomly opened it near the middle. Soon a shimmering, tubular beam of light appeared above the pages. Although transparent, the light—or energy field-—had a bluish tinge to it. It reminded me of a miniature version of the transporter beam from Star Trek. The field was about 16 inches in diameter and about three feet high.

  Amazed, I watched closely as a lifelike, three-dimensional moving image took shape inside the field. A dark-skinned, dark-haired woman, clothed in hardly more than animal skins, sat cross-legged in front of a small shelter nursing a newborn baby. Somehow, I knew I was that baby.

  I felt the power of that moment, the peaceful, intimate connection, the soothing warmth of my mother. Emotions and feelings swirled through my mind like a long forgotten memory.

  I would have continued the experience indefinitely, but the light touch of Larissa's hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. Looking up at her smiling face, I saw in those beautiful eyes the reflection of my own delight and amazement in the timeless splendor of our existence. Flashing a warm, understanding smile, she flipped the pages to another section.

  I returned my attention to the energy field. The image of a dirty, white-skinned young man with a filthy mop of long brown hair began to take shape. He lay shivering under a small dirty blanket and heaps of rubbish in what appeared to be a dark, dank corner of some old abandoned building. As I looked more closely it appeared that he was quite young, possibly only 13 or 14. Coughing violently, he seemed to be burning with fever. Slowly, sad recognition came over me. I knew he was dying, and I knew this boy was me, in another lifetime, another place.

  I didn't want to become involved in the scene I was witnessing. I didn't want to feel the resignation and grief already weighing on me. Turning away from the images, I wished Larissa would flip to a new page. Again I felt her hand on my shoulder, but this time it was to comfort and soothe. With her other hand, she closed the book and withdrew it from the pedestal. The energy field immediately dissolved, leaving me sitting in contemplation. After several moments, Larissa gently interrupted my reverie. “It's time to go now,” she whispered. “You can come back any time you like.”

  Smiling sweetly, she led me from the table. Hand-in-hand, we walked back to the shelf where she returned the book to its place. As we strolled along, I began to feel a tug on my awareness. The familiar pull of the session-ending beta tones became more pronounced. Larissa clasped my hand between both of hers. “It was so nice to see you again,” she offered cheerily. “I look forward to the next time.” I felt a small jolt to my consciousness and her image began to fade. Although I fought to stay focused, it was a losing battle. The next thing I knew, I was back in my body.

  Sitting up, I removed the headphones. The room seemed intensely hot, and I was sweating profusely. This had never happened before. If anything, I usually felt a bit chilly after a session. Worried that I might be coming down with something, I headed to the bathroom to wash my face. By the time I returned, my body heat had normalized, and the temperature in the room had subsided. I struggled for an explanation. Could this have been a side effect of watching myself burning with fever as a boy in a past existence?

  Replaying the vivid scenes in my mind, I sat on the edge of my bed making notes. The skeptical, analytical part of me still wanted to put everything in order. I tried to determine the culture and time period of the image of myself as a baby. My mother's skin color had been dark. The large leafed branches covering the shelter seemed tropical. I settled on Polynesian or Philippine culture, but hadn't a clue about the era.

  The images of myself as a boy slowly succumbing to death, also returned to my mind. The boy's fair skin, along with the musty, old, decaying stone walls, reminded me of Europe. England, I thought. Perhaps Scotland. Maybe Ireland. Here again, I had no idea what time period this might have been. Finishing up my notes, I headed downstairs to join the group for debriefing.

  Some of my fellow participants had also enjoyed vivid, powerful experiences in the same library-type building. A few had visited other places of note, while some hadn't had any luck at all. Most important for me, however, was the unsolicited confirmation by Robyn. She had indeed seen me in the library. As I walked into the debriefing room, she was already seated. With a mischievous smile, she winked at me. “Hey Paul, who was the good-looking woman with you in the library?” Bruce, on the other hand, couldn't recall having seen me, but he and Robyn had seen each other. The validation was both interesting and reassuring.

  Success during the remaining sessions continued to be a hit and miss proposition. Sometimes I would fall asleep or end up spending my time staring into the darkness. Then, in the next one, I'd be off on a new adventure. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.

  I was beginning to wonder about Meldor. Three days had gone by and I hadn't seen him. Hoping that he wasn't off on vacation, I vowed that at the next opportunity I would try to find him.

  When the late afternoon session began, I plunged rapidly through the threshold into an altered state. As the energy in my body began to oscillate, I deliberated whether to send out a call for Meldor to join me or to attempt to travel to him. Deciding that it might be fun to track him down for a surprise visit, I concentrated on his familiar vibration. Almost instantly a wave of energy plowed through my body. In a heartbeat I was standing in front of him.

  I couldn't believe my eyes. I was standing on the peak
of a high, desolate mountain. Meldor sat before me in an oversized chair, like the kind we sometimes saw in hotel lobbies years ago. It was so large, his feet hardly reached the front of the cushion. He looked every bit like a three-year-old in an adult chair. A childlike scowl knitted his bearded face, and with hands clasped across his lap he vigorously twirled his thumbs.

  “What took you so long?” he snapped.

  I didn't know what to think. He looked annoyed, but at the same time hilariously silly in the gigantic chair. I had no idea whether he was serious or not. Nervously I began to search for words. “Well, I aahh ... I thought that... aahh ...”

  “Ha, ha,” he interrupted. And in the wee small voice of a three-year-old, he taunted, “Bet you can't sneak up on me.”

  Eyes twinkling, an impish smile spread across Meldor's face. He swung his legs over the edge of the chair and slid to the ground.

  “Jeez, Meldor,” I stammered. “You are some piece of work.”

  “Hey, my boy, you gotta lighten up. This is funny stuff,” he chortled, reaching out to hug me. “You should've seen the look on your face.”

  “It's good to see you,” I grinned, returning his embrace.

  What a comedian, I thought, looking around. The wind-blown rocky terrain, wisps of cloud floating by in the thin air, and this huge chair on a mountain peak in the middle of nowhere. The guy had style!

  “What on earth are you doing out here on a mountain?” I asked.

  “Oh, just waiting for you,” he grinned. Then, pointing to the picturesque surrounding valley, his tone softened, becoming reflective, appreciative. “Isn't it a great view? A perfect place for contemplation, don't you think?”

  He was right. The ambiance of the landscape was exhilarating, yet peaceful. The only thing out of place was the chair.

  “What's with the big old chair?” I asked.

  “What chair?” Meldor's eyes were beaming.

  I turned to look, but there was nothing behind us but the barren mountaintop.

  “The chair was just a creation for your amusement,” Meldor explained. “It was a manifestation of my thoughts. I put it there to show you that in the realms of pure energy, a thought can be real and easily manifested.”

  “I've been wondering about that,” I admitted. “I've seen so many things in different realms. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's real and what isn't.”

  “In a sense it's all real,” Meldor responded. “In the spirit realm, a person can create their own reality, including what you would perceive to be actual physical matter. It is the density of the matter and the rate of vibration that is relative to one's perception. On the Earth plane, where matter is extremely dense and the rate of vibration is slow, physical beings have a comparative perception of reality. A rock is real. It's hard, heavy, and relatively unchanging in terms of Earth time. So from a human perspective it's easy to form concepts that material things are permanent and immutable. But in the spirit realms, the concept of permanence is much different.”

  “I'm not sure I understand what you mean,” I said, looking for a place to sit. I chose a bare outcropping of rock. Meldor found a place beside me and continued his explanation.

  “Take, for example, the chair I was enjoying when you arrived,” he said. “It was completely real to your perception, was it not? You could have crawled onto it and sat as I did. It was very real, but at the same time it was only a temporary construction of my mind; whereas the library building you visited yesterday was much more permanent and substantial. It too, however, was created by thought. But, it is reinforced by the conscious energy of billions of souls. Each and every visitor to the building maintains and perpetually reinforces the reality of the structure.”

  “You knew I was at the Records Hall?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course. I was there with you.”

  “But I didn't see you. Why didn't you let me know you were there?”

  “It was better for you to have the experience by yourself, without my influence or interpretation. Your evolution is more complete through different perspectives.”

  “The building was phenomenal,” I recalled. “It reminded me of pictures I've seen of some of the ancient buildings in Rome and Greece.”

  “A good comparison,” Meldor agreed. “It's one of the places from which the builders and architects of your ancient civilizations developed their skills. They built these beautiful structures in the spirit realm before they returned to build them on Earth. It is often in the spirit realm that creation and construction concepts are developed and honed to perfection. But it is a much greater challenge to create and build on the dense Earth plane.

  “As you know, in the lower vibrations, thoughts, in and of themselves, are not so easily manifested without the necessary physical actions needed to bring ideas into reality. On Earth, for example, before a builder of stone is able to bring his creative concepts into reality, he must first create the tools with which to shape the stone as well as bring together the proper mixture of available raw materials to create the mortar.”

  As Meldor spoke, I closed my eyes to absorb his message. In this manner his communication was more comprehensive and thorough. He spoke directly from his mind to mine.

  “There are many millions of talented spirits with such an intense love of design and innovation, they constantly work at improving their creations both in the spirit realm and in the physical worlds. While in the spirit plane, they continue their endeavors, developing new ideas, solutions and inventions. It's much easier for them to work from this level where thoughts can be manifested instantly. The more difficult part is in transferring their ideas and knowledge to the physical planes. Many accomplish this through the slower process of reincarnation.

  “But there are countless souls who choose instead to transmit their ideas and inventions directly to the minds of receptive physical beings. There are great numbers of creative people on Earth who make these connections, receiving inspiration during sleep or in altered states. They may not remember, or even be aware of their journeys, but the impressions stay with them. This is one reason why people in different parts of the world often seem to come up with the same ideas or patents at virtually the same time. They have been guided.”

  Meldor's revelations made a great deal of sense to me. In my travels to the Other Side I had witnessed many amazing things and was slowly beginning to understand the larger picture. There was no question. We are all connected.

  I sat quietly for a few moments before opening my eyes. With the exception of the valleys far below, the mountain on which we sat was relatively barren. I wondered where we were.

  Meldor broke into my thoughts. “I believe you would call it the Himalayas.”

  “You mean we're on the Earth plane?” I asked. “How did you make the chair appear in the physical world? I didn't think that was possible.”

  “Oh, it's certainly possible,” Meldor replied. “But don't forget, at this moment you are not in your physical body. You're in an elevated level of consciousness where these manifestations are visible and real.”

  For a few moments Meldor sat quietly, reflecting. “I still come here occasionally,” he mused. “This used to be a favorite place of mine on a couple of previous incarnations. I always found the energy here very relaxing.”

  I was on the verge of asking Meldor to tell me about his lifetimes on Earth when, without warning, I slammed back into my body. I couldn't imagine what had happened.

  A sharp, heavy object was pressing into my left temple. Somewhat disoriented, it took me a few moments to figure it out. Before the session began, I had been resting in bed reading a book. When we were ready to begin, I had simply set the book aside on an extra pillow beside my head. Somehow, it had slipped off the pillow, and banging into my face, jolted me out of my altered state.

  Although the session was still underway, I didn't think I'd be able to reconnect with my guide, so I removed my headphones and stretched out. I thought about Meldor's explanations of the cre
ation of buildings and structures on the Other Side, and their relationship to our physical world. The structures that I had seen, such as the library, seemed absolutely real. The stone steps leading to the front entry were as solid as anything I had experienced. Inside the building, I had felt the smooth hardness of the beautiful marble floor beneath my feet. I had touched the solid ornate pillars. I had sat upon the bench with my elbows resting on a firm table as I watched the past life images in the energy field. These things were real, perhaps more real than the structures I was used to on Earth.

  As I lay in my bunk pondering the creative possibilities in the spirit realms, a pressure began to build in the center of my forehead. I was again falling into an altered state.

  Focusing my attention on the spot between my eyes, I concentrated on opening the portal. Soon a small pinpoint of light appeared. But, before I could even react, the aperture flashed open and a moment later I found myself peering down the hallway of what seemed to be a very long building. Numerous doorways led off to both sides of a wide corridor. The walls themselves emanated a soft, warm green light. White tile floors reflected spotlessly. It had the feel of a hospital.

  To my left, a wide-open doorway displayed the number 17 above it. I wondered if there was any significance attached to the number, but more importantly, I questioned why I had been drawn to this particular place. It occurred to me that perhaps this was the kind of hospital room my mother had arrived in after making her way to the Other Side. Moving anxiously through the doorway, I half expected to see my mother sitting up in bed waiting for me. To my disappointment, there was no one there. Feeling a small twinge of loneliness, I slowly surveyed the room. It was indeed a hospital.