Eyes of an Angel Page 24
Hyperventilating, with tears streaming down her face, she continued, “And then my dad started yelling at me. He said, ‘Patricia, you better get out here right now, and bury this goddamn dog.’ I was so scared. I'd never seen him like this. But I had to go outtside. I picked up the puppy; he was covered with blood. I didn't want to even look. I took him to an old flower garden behind the house, and I got the shovel. Then I dug a hole and put him in.”
Her speech now punctuated with deep uncontrollable sobs, Patricia forced herself to continue. “I started to cover him up. But when I threw the dirt on him, he started to move.” Her voice turning to pure horrified anguish, she cried, “Oh God, I'm so sorry! I couldn't stop. I couldn't look at him. I just kept on covering him up. And then I just ran and ran, and I didn't want to ever come back.”
Finally, with heart-wrenching sobs, Patricia turned away, buried her head in her arms and wept.
Seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes into eternity.
My heart was breaking. Gasping for breath, I couldn't think what to do. My own tears were now streaming down my face, falling like rain onto my hands. I drew her close, cradling her in my arms. I wanted to pray to God to take away her pain, but instead I found myself silently cursing a humanity that could inflict such devastating pain.
With my own grief and anger slowly boiling into a rage, I was suddenly jolted by an internal burst of light. Brief flashes of imagery began to strobe through my mind, piercing my awareness. For a moment I wondered if I was having a stroke. Then in the next instant, my inner vision cleared, and I was rocked by a memory. It was the uncovering of my own horrific trauma. Somehow, I had blocked this memory from my mind.
I was suddenly back in my five-year-old body. It was early on a Saturday morning, and my older sister Josie was shaking me awake. “Come on, Paul, the puppies have been born. Don't you want to see the new puppies?” Half awake, but excited, I scrambled to my feet. Josie pulled a sweater over my head, hurried me through the house, and out the front door.
My excitement mounting with each step, we ran across the farmyard to an old shed behind the workshop. We had two adult German Shepherds on our farm. My sisters had told me that Sheena was pregnant and would be having her babies very soon. I couldn't wait to see them.
Before we even rounded the corner of the shed I could hear little whimpers from the newborn pups. Spotting them immediately, I counted four little balls of fur. In amazement, I sat down beside them as they bumped and bobbed, nosing through their mother's fur. Josie reached into the churning brood, gently withdrew a whimpering, shivering ball of fluff, and placed it in my lap. He was beautiful. I giggled with delight at his closed eyes and clumsy movements. It was a perfect moment.
We had been sitting for several minutes holding and playing with each of the puppies when around the corner of the shed strode our father. “What the hell are you doing back here?” he barked. In instant fear, Josie jumped to her feet. Catching sight of the puppies, he let out a stream of German cuss words. “Jesus Christ, I thought so,” he yelled. “Josephine, you're supposed to be helping Mom in the garden.”
In a rage, he grabbed the puppy out of my lap. “I told you I don't want any more dogs around here,” he screamed. And swiftly raising the puppy over his head, he smashed it to death on the ground in front of us. One by one, he grabbed the rest of the puppies, hurling them to their deaths.
Frozen with shock and fear, I couldn't speak, I couldn't cry. I just sat there shaking. The next thing I knew I was in Josie's arms and she was running as fast as she could towards the house. She put me down on the porch, and through terrified sobs, ordered me back to bed. I couldn't get there fast enough. Racing through the house, I dived under the covers. Mercifully I fell asleep, putting the entire horrible memory forever out of my mind.
Cutting through my thoughts, I felt a hand touching my face, wiping away the tears. I opened my eyes. Patricia was looking up at me, blinking through her own tears, a deeply saddened, concerned expression on her face. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I think so,” I managed to croak out. “God, Patricia, I'm so sorry you had to go through something like that.”
“Shhhh,” she hushed me, putting her fingers to my Hps. “It's okay now.”
Trying to get my wits together, I decided not to tell her about my experience until later. I knew we would have to help each other in our healing.
“What happened when you ran away,” I finally asked. “Where did you go?”
Patricia sighed and took a deep breath. “I didn't go very far. I ran up into the mountain where there was a stream about a half-mile away. I used to go there sometimes to just be by myself. But, this time I wanted to die—I wanted to just disappear.”
Her lips began to quiver again as she fought to remain in control. The pained expression on her face ripped into my heart. She seemed so small and vulnerable. It felt like I was looking into the eyes of a little girl. I gently squeezed her hand and, with tears welling up in her eyes, she continued her story.
“At first I was just going to wash the blood off my clothes, but I thought how easy it would be to die. So I walked right into the water. I wanted to drown myself. But I just couldn't make myself do it. Finally, I got out of the water and just sat on the bank for a long time. The sun went down, but I stayed there. I didn't want to ever go home again. It was a few hours later, maybe two in the morning; it got so cold I was shaking. I walked down the mountain to a logging-truck road about a half-mile from our house. I wanted to go all the way down to the highway and run away, but I didn't know where to go. I just couldn't get it out of my mind. It was so horrible. I wanted to die.”
Patricia put a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob. After a few moments, with tears freely flowing, she continued. “There was a curve in the road as it came up the hill, so I lay down in the middle of the road, hoping a truck would kill me. But no one came. It was really dark and cold. I couldn't cry anymore and I didn't know what else to do, so after about an hour, I got up and walked home. And that was all.” With that, Patricia put her head back, closed her eyes, and lay quietly with her thoughts and tears.
After a few minutes, when she appeared to have settled down somewhat, I broke the silence. “What do you mean, that was all?” I asked. “Wasn't your dad worried and looking for you? Didn't you get into trouble?”
“No, I thought I would. But nothing happened. There were no lights on in the house. Everyone was sleeping. So I just crawled into bed and went to sleep. And that was all. The next morning, life went on like nothing happened. Nobody ever spoke a word about it. You're the only one I've ever told.”
I sat quietly, holding her hand. I thought about the unbelievable horror that she had endured. What disturbed me most was that she had spent the greater part of her life carrying a guilt that she had been responsible for her puppy's death when she covered it with dirt.
It occurred to me that just sharing her story was probably a big step in a healing process, and I was grateful for having played a part. I felt fortunate my own similar childhood horror had also been blocked from my memory. It had been strange, recalling an experience that had been erased from my conscious mind.
Feeling that we were both cried-out, I told Patricia about uncovering my own blocked experience with the puppies. By the time I finished the story, we both sat with tears in our eyes and lumps in our throats. We reflected on the similar nature of our experiences, wondering what effect these events had in shaping our lives. We considered that perhaps this was one of the reasons we had been brought together again, to initiate a healing process.
Even though we felt better, it was apparent that we both still carried a deep psychological hurt. The trauma of our experiences had forever changed the way we related to the world. It was as if an innocent, sacred part of our souls had been damaged or lost. The discussion brought to mind the training I had received at The Monroe Institute during the soul retrieval sessions. Some of the participants had talked about retrieving
parts of their own souls. They felt that during particularly traumatic events, it was actually possible to lose a part of one's own spiritual energy. They believed that these shadow bits of our soul could be locked into the emotional time-vibration of the event itself. But they also claimed that it was indeed possible for an aware person to find and reintegrate these lost aspects of energy into his or her soul. Doing so often resulted in tremendous healing.
Patricia and I talked about the possibility of trying something of this nature. Although she was dubious, we agreed to experiment. Unsure where it would lead us, we decided on another hypnosis session.
With only a loose idea of the direction we were heading, I guided Patricia through a process of deepening relaxation, and then counted her into a stable hypnotic trance. Allowing her to rest, I closed my eyes and prayed for guidance. Almost immediately, I detected the subtle vibration of my guides.
Thoughts and ideas forming in my mind, I began with the suggestion that whenever she was ready, she could return safely to any time in her life. She could review and re-experience any event or incident, but if she chose to do so, she could also remove herself from the scene and become only an observer. With these final suggestions, we were ready to explore.
Slowly, gently, I guided her back to the awful day her puppy died. I reinforced the concept of retrieving any lost aspects of her energy that may have left her during times of extreme stress or trauma. Allowing that it could very well be that she had no missing aspects, I suggested that if there were, she should locate these lost portions and restore them to her soul.
In anticipation of what was to come, Patricia took a deep breath. I then took her back to the time immediately after the puppy was put into the ground.
“Patricia,” I began, “you told me that after the puppy was buried, you ran up into the mountain to a stream. Do you remember how to get there?”
“Yes, I know where it is,” she replied, her voice registering a touch of anxiety.
“You'll be just fine, Patricia. Nothing can hurt you.” I tried to sound as soothing as I could. “Now, in your mind, return to that place near the stream where you went years ago. I'll just be quiet so you have time to make your way there.”
“I'm there.” Her immediate response surprised me.
“Very good.” I tried to remain calm. “Now, take a few moments to look around and tell me what you see.”
Patricia's eyelids began to twitch ever so slightly. There was a pause in her breathing. She seemed to be concentrating on something. “I see a little girl sitting on some dead-fall beside the water.” Her voice was slow and absorbed. “There's a nice lady sitting beside her, but I don't think the girl can see her.” For a moment, she paused, captivated by what she was seeing. “Her pants and shirt are all wet,” she said, coughing slightly, a sound of concern in her voice. “She's shivering, and she's crying.” Patricia lay quietly for a couple of moments, and then with quivering lips, she added, “I think she's me.”
I could hardly contain my excitement. This was just what we had hoped to accomplish. I searched for the right words to continue the process. “You're doing very well, Patricia. How do you feel now?”
“I feel really sorry for her.” Her voice was filled with emotion. “I just want to hug her.”
“I think that's a good idea,” I encouraged. “I'm sure she could use a hug.”
For several moments everything was quiet. The tension in Patricia's face began to soften. Then in a mystified voice, she broke the silence. “She's gone... I was hugging her and then she just disappeared.”
“That's wonderful, Patricia,” I whispered, struggling to control my emotions. “How do you feel now? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I feel a lot better. I'm really glad I found her.”
Tears filled my eyes as I contemplated the power of what I had just witnessed. I knew that regardless of the validity of the experience, whether it was real or imaginary, it must have been healing.
Uncertain what to do next, I suggested that Patricia relax and reflect on all that she had experienced. While she rested, I decided on the next step. I would attempt to guide her back to the dark road where she had lain in the gravel waiting for a truck and then finally to the place where she had buried the puppy.
The process seemed to go well. In the reality of her altered state, Patricia returned easily to the road and then to the puppy's grave. Although she couldn't perceive any further lost aspects of her soul at either site, I encouraged her to go through the process of welcoming any possible stranded energy to reunite with her. When she arrived at the site of the puppy's grave, Patricia began to re-experience some strong emotions, but she was able to maintain control, making it through the difficult final processing.
With the main purpose completed, I suggested that she could instantly travel to any peaceful place she chose. This would give her a few minutes to relax before I brought her out of her trance. Patricia drew in a deep breath, and I watched all signs of tension slowly leave her body. Although curious about where she had gone, I remained quiet. Within minutes her breathing had slowed to a steady relaxed pace. Appearing at rest, her eyelids began to lightly flutter and an expression of peaceful contentment spread across her face. I waited a couple of minutes, and then began the process of returning her to normal consciousness.
Stretching her arms, Patricia opened her eyes. A delighted smile spread across her face. “Wow, that was incredible,” she exclaimed. “I don't know where I was, but the most amazing thing happened.”
Concerned that she may not have remembered all of the aspects of the session, I asked, “You do remember everything that happened, don't you? You remember finding a lost part of yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” she smiled, “that was incredible too. But at the end when you told me to just rest for a few minutes, that's what I'm talking about.” Her eyes beamed with excitement. “I don't know where I was, but all of a sudden I felt somebody holding me, and I felt really different. It was like I was a baby again. There were people standing in a circle. For some reason, I couldn't see much of their faces, but they were so happy, just hugging me, and passing me around. It was wonderful. I could feel all of their love, and it was just beautiful. Then they started to fade away and I fell asleep, until you woke me up.”
Patricia sat up, a puzzled look spreading across her face. “They seemed so familiar, like I knew them, but just forgot. I think they were from my soul group. What do you think?”
This was completely unexpected. Not knowing what to say, I just sat there, grinning. Frankly, we couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. As I reached out to give her a hug, I silently thanked God and our angels for their help.
The episode had been healing for both of us. Although it was Patricia who had gone through the exercise of uncovering a childhood trauma, her experience was the trigger that allowed me to do the same. Her ordeal had helped in my healing by putting me in touch with my own forgotten past. We had shared a powerfully liberating experience. And we were in awe of the spiritual bond that had brought us together at a time when we needed it most.
Patricia's experience with the rest of her soul group had been particularly gratifying for her. Even though I had shared with her Meldor's insights regarding soul groups, she had remained unconvinced. Now, it seemed, we had crossed another bridge.
Our time together in Utah seemed all too short. Before we knew it, we were at the airport saying goodbye again. With heavy hearts and a few more tears, we hugged each other and headed off on our separate journeys home.
14
The Reading
Though late, we find that in the end
Matters not if we break or bend
It wasn't God we were meant to see
For only love can set us free
Throughout this intense period of change, I continued to share everything with my wife. I'm sure there must have been times when Candace simply humored me and only pretended to listen. She seemed happy that I had found such a wonderful f
riend, and occasionally she and Patricia spoke on the phone. The depth to which Candace supported our friendship was remarkable, and I was grateful for her understanding. Within a few weeks of my return from Utah, however, she had a dream so vivid, it drew her irretrievably into a relationship that may have spanned centuries.
When Candace first told me about the dream, I hadn't offered her more than an amused snicker. It did, however, cause me to worry that beneath the surface, she was more than a little uneasy about my friendship with Patricia. At least, that's what I believed at the time.
Candace recorded the dream in her journal:
I had a dream last night, and woke up at 2:00 A.M. in a cold sweat. I was feeling really distressed. In my dream, Patricia had come to our home; I believe it was to help Paul with some project he was working on. I had no idea prior to her arrival that she was coming, and was not introduced when she arrived. We ended up being seated side-by-side at the dinner table, but it was like there was a very dark shadow between her face and mine, which didn't allow us to look at each other. I interpreted this as Paul's reluctance for us to meet.
After the meal, I decided it was time to cut the foolishness, so I shook her hand and introduced myself. The next thing I recall, Paul and I were alone, and I was asking him how long she would be staying. He ignored my question and instead took me to task for being rude to a couple of men who were doing some work around the house. At that point, I held his face in my hands, and said to him over and over again, “When are you going to admit that you don't love me anymore?” He denied it several times, and then finally said, “All right, I don't love you anymore.” I felt instantly relieved. I said “Good, now I can get on with my own life.” That's when I awoke.
As I woke up, my mind was still in turmoil and I was quite upset. But I had the overwhelming sense that everything was okay. And then I heard these distinct words in my mind, “Don't worry, this was another lifetime.”