In June of 2006, about two and a half years after I discovered and released two lost souls who had attached themselves to me more than 20 years earlier, at my request, the angels began to send additional souls for me to work with. I figured I had an affinity and a talent for this kind of thing. Turns out, I was right to a point.
I suppose this story really begins on January 18, 2004, fourteen days after my successful spirit release of Jack and Lorraine, the husband and wife team who thought they were working around my house doing odd jobs, and looking after my kids. Now that my concussion and bruised hand were mostly healed (see this link for that story), I resolved not to be bullied or deterred by malevolent beings, the likes of which had attacked me and left me injured only four days after I had helped Jack and Lorraine make their escape.
Was the attack retaliation for the help I had given them? Was it a warning to back off?
In hindsight, I think it was. However, I only just came to this conclusion when looking over my journals in order to piece together this story. Because, prior to this realization, I had always thought the attack had everything to do with the book the angels had inspired me to begin working on just hours before the attack had occurred. Seven years later, however, with the benefit of hindsight and emotional distance, it now seems pretty obvious that retaliation (and sadistic pleasure) was the motivation.
In any event, when this story begins, I was determined not to live in the shadow of fear ever again, whether it was fear of spirits and ghosts, or whether it was a general fear of the dark — something that had plagued me since early childhood. So, bearing that in mind, when I found myself awake in bed at 2 am on the night of January 18, 2004, I decided to head down stairs to my basement office where I intended to begin the process of editing my journals into a book.
In my office, seated at my desk, I was reading through my old journals, and had just gotten to a part about a small creature that I once witnessed darting past my office door, when all of a sudden, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
What is this fear I am feeling? I wondered.
After the miraculous spirit release that I had experienced two weeks earlier, I forgot all about the small creature I had seen, and somehow managed to merge that experience with the experience of Jack and Lorraine, as if maybe it had been one of them I had sensed that night. But clearly, now that I was reading about the time I had witnessed this creature in my basement, and now that my fear had suddenly risen up, I realized that I had described this creature as being short and stocky, and almost, dare I say it, inhuman. So, if it wasn’t Jack or Lorraine, and it wasn’t human, then what was it?
First things first, it was now 3:00 am, I was alone in my basement, and intense fear had suddenly taken a hold of me. In response, I did the only thing I could think of: I dropped to my knees and prayed for protection and assistance.
Minutes later, feeling somewhat calmed and empowered, I entered the pitch blackness of the playroom and confronted this creature (assuming he was even there, and assuming he was masculine), by telling him that he was in the basement of my family’s home and whatever his reasons, he didn’t belong there.
Unfortunately, however, the longer I stood there talking, the more that fear began to incapacitate my thinking. And, as long as it was doing that, I knew I wouldn’t be of help to anyone — man or beast. So, I immediately changed my approach and instead began to pray out loud to release my fear. And, it soon occurred to me that more than anything else, I was most afraid of seeing this creature.
At the same time, however, I knew in my heart that every one of God’s creations deserves love, and if there really was such a thing as a gnome — which was what came to mind as I was earlier reading my journal — then this gnome deserved love just as much as anyone or anything else.
With this sudden realization, against the palpable fear I was feeling, I took a few steps out further into the middle of the dark playroom and sat down on the floor. While I did this, I simultaneously surrendered to God and prayed for help to overcome something that I knew I didn’t understand.
A few minutes later, the fear began to subside enough that I began to speak to the creature again — this time, telling it I was not trying to make it leave because I was afraid of it, but because I loved and respected it and I believed that there was a better place for it to be than in my basement. Of course, as I was saying this, I couldn’t help but think, I don’t know the first thing about gnomes. Maybe this creature does belong in my basement and it’s me that needs to change my attitude. In any event, although I managed to speak from a place of sincerity, I didn’t get the feeling that I had accomplished anything. And, I suddenly began to wonder if the whole thing was a fabrication of my imagination.
Was it even possible that mythical creatures such as gnomes exist in our world? And, if so, what was their divine purpose?
Since I imagined them as being spirit creatures, was it possible for them to lose their way or be corrupted by dark forces? These were questions that crossed my mind as I got up off the floor, headed back into my office, and returned my attention to my journals.
Later that day, when I found myself with an available moment, I asked my spirit guide about the fear I had experienced earlier that morning. Here was his response:
“You [were] feeling afraid of the dark because there is something there that is frightening you. It is not a gnome as you would like to believe. It is actually a little child. This child has come into your home because of your affinity for peace and understanding.”
The channeling broke off at that moment as I was having difficulties maintaining a clear connection. When I was able to reestablish, my guide continued:
“So, we were talking about this little child that you have in your home. Not to worry, he is no harm to you or your family. He only wishes to find peace and understanding in his life. He has sought you out because he knows that you are finding your way and he is there to watch. He feels that perhaps he will learn something of value from you.
“It will actually do him some good to hang around for awhile — if you don’t mind, of course. You do not have to see him if you do not wish to. He is there and he can see you. That is all you need to know. Don’t be scared when you sense him around. Simply talk to him as you would your own child. He needs love and kindness in order to learn that which he seeks to understand. Patience, love and understanding are the key.”
“Pardon me for interrupting,” I said. “But how does a child end up in purgatory [aka, the lower astral plane or the earth plane}?”
“Children can end up stuck just as adults can. There is no hard fast rule about this. If a soul does not wish to move forward, does not wish to seek God and truth, then they have free will to do as they wish. Even children can remain in limbo between heaven and earth. This child has been in limbo for many centuries. He is a native child who died young due to illness. He never moved on… Instead, he remained a part of your world by choice. He has only just found you and he is interested in your efforts to find truth and understanding. He needs you to help him. Show him patience and you will free him.”
A few weeks later, I hadn’t sensed the young boy or any other spirits around when on February 5th, I was in my bathroom, looking in the mirror, when all of a sudden my face began to grotesquely transform into a ghoulish mask. Panicked, I called out for Nola, who woke from her sleep in the bed beside me and in turn shook me awake. It was midnight and I had been asleep and dreaming. Realizing that I had just blown a test, I got on my knees in bed and prayed. “Please God, help me to overcome this weakness. Please help me learn to surrender to Your power at all times, and in all situations.”
A few days later, a job possibility that had been looming, finally solidified. Consequently, my spiritual adventures were put on hold while I worked to fulfill the requirements of my contract.
Six months later, back at home, happy to have the time to recuperate from the contract that I had just completed, I awoke at 4 am on September 3rd remembering the following dream and knowing that my dream trials had resumed:
I am in an old house that I don’t recognize. It is night. I am awake in bed beside my wife when the wind outside suddenly picks up. I can hear the wind blowing and suddenly our wooden gate starts to swing and bang noisily against the fence post. Nola volunteers to go outside and latch the gate. On her way out, she calls to me upstairs and asks that I take a look at the hall light as something is apparently wrong with it.
In the hall, the light is not working. There is an antique switch plate on the wall, and the switch appears to be broken. I fiddle with it and it starts to work again. Maybe there is a loose wire, I figure, but I’m not sure. In any event, for some reason I head downstairs to the main floor.
Standing at the front entrance, I glance at a room at the end of the hallway. It has two very tall iron-gated doors that are closed. Beyond those doors, I can see what appears to be a sewing room with shelves of fabrics and supplies. It is large and well-organized, but appears almost untouched, as if it has been sitting dormant for years. It is sad in a way, I ponder — such an amazing room left to collect dust. However, while I am contemplating this, all of a sudden, a very powerful force (that I immediately perceive as negative) picks me up and starts to pull me towards that room. “Oh no!” I say as I am lifted in the air. I immediately close my eyes, surrender, and call out to God.
And, just like that, I find myself awake in my bed, remembering this dream, and wonder what it was all about.
Two months later, still unemployed and having just come through an intense three day period of inexplicable sadness, I began to reflect one day upon the year that was quickly coming to an end. I had been reading a lot lately, particularly about NDE’s (near death experiences) and was fascinated to find that many of the people who had written books about their NDE’s subsequently went on to make career changes in order to put to good use the gifts that had awoken as a result of their NDE.
What were my gifts I wondered. And in what way can I put them to good use?
In the shower that morning, I began to think about the fact that I had done very little thus far in my life to help people. If I was to die tomorrow, how would my life review go? For the most part, I felt that I had lived a life that had been pretty much mundane and self-centered. Then my mind drifted to the two ghosts I had helped earlier in the year.
What was it about me that enabled me to help them?
I thought about my drive to overcome my long-standing fear of the dark — an ongoing task that I was still working on. I also thought about the spirit attack that I had suffered, and then, all of a sudden, something clicked.
Was it possible that I was being trained so that I could help free people from the ghosts that haunted them? Whether these ghosts were haunting people or property, with the aid of my spirit guide and my guardian angel, perhaps we could facilitate rescuing more lost souls.
This sudden thought really appealed to me and felt so true to my heart, I started to cry.
Two weeks later I had another surprising breakthrough. But it wasn’t to do with lost souls — at least, not in the traditional sense. It had to do with my own lost soul — or, more succinctly, a part of my soul. Let me explain.
Early one morning, I was reading thorough my journals when Nola saw me and asked how I was feeling. When I responded honestly with “Not so good,” Nola asked for clarification. Unfortunately, the best I could come up with was that I was dealing with issues having to do with self-worth, and I wasn’t dealing with them very well. No sooner had I said this, however, my answer didn’t sit right with me. There was something else that was causing me to feel “not so good,” but what?
A few moments later, I realized I was feeling disappointed with myself. But that was as much as I was able to put into words. However, for reasons I no longer remember, I felt suddenly compelled to read Nola an odd little piece of stream-of-consciousness writing that I had come across earlier that morning in my journals — something I had written three months earlier.
“Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a Prince who was tormented by his illness. The King was so fed up with this Prince that he locked him away in the castle and forbid him to go out until he found joy in his heart. But the Prince could only find unhappiness and misery and so, in the castle he stayed forever and ever.”
No sooner did I finish reading, Nola immediately reacted by saying that it was unjust of the King to have locked the little Prince away in the castle. That was not helping the Prince, she said, that was cruel.
Well, I don’t know what I had expected her to say, but it wasn’t that! Because, as many times as I had read that little story, and I had read it several times, never once had it occurred to me to think about it in such a way as to conclude that the Prince was ill, and the King, cruel. But just like that, Nola made me see it that way. And then she really floored me. “You are not responsible for the fact that your father locked you away,” she said. “You understand me, right? You are not responsible, and you need to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong.”
Why was she saying that, I wondered. I had forgiven myself. And, I had forgiven my father too. At least, I thought that I had. However, when Nola suddenly demanded I speak the following words, “I am not responsible for the fact that my father locked me in my room, and I am now free to walk out the door,” it took a good two minutes before I could actually bring myself to say those words aloud. Funny, when I think back to that moment now, I find it fascinating that each time I thought about repeating those words, I laughed with nervousness and embarrassment until finally, after unrelenting pressure from my wife, I did what she asked.
Later that day, when I wrote about this event in my journal, I wrote that in order to finally say those words, I had somehow managed to emotionally distance myself from their true meaning and power. In other words, I might have said them, but the way that I did, it was like I continued to surrender my power to the King. Like, perhaps I believed that I deserved to be locked away until I found happiness. But, thankfully, Nola’s point of view then drifted into my consciousness.
The Prince was ill and he needed help. As the Prince’s father, it was the King’s responsibility to help his child overcome his unhappiness and his misery in any and every way he could.
And with that, I finally accepted the fact that my father had been incapable of loving me, and I shed some painful tears.
Just to clarify, it’s not that I had ever been locked away in a literal sense (tho, my mother did attempt to lock me in my room from time to time, but I always found a way to escape). But, I was definitely a victim of physical, mental and emotional abuse at the hands of my father. And clearly, as much as I thought I was over it all by the age of 44, I still had unresolved issues.
Also, I need to tell you that just after Nola and I were married, I changed my name from David to Mathew because in my teenage years I had gone through a period of disassociation where I started to feel like I no longer knew who David was. By my early twenties, this disassociation had gotten so bad, I recall a time when I was out walking, and a friend shouted my name from the other side of the street, and I didn’t respond. Not that I was trying to ignore him. The issue was, even though I heard a voice shouting, “David,” I didn’t realize that I was David, so I kept right on walking.
A few years later, when I finally changed my name to Mathew, although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was symbolically locking little David away in the castle, and throwing away the key. Thus, when the painful tears suddenly came to the surface as I was writing about this incident in my journal (when I finally accepted the fact that my father had been incapable of loving me), I found myself strangely detached from the tears.
Why am I so detached, I wondered.
And, suddenly I knew. It was because it was David, my inner child that was crying, not Mathew the adult. So I let little David cry while in my mind I called upon the angels to be with us and to help us. As I felt the little boy starting to surface through his tears, I did my best to encourage him. “I love you,” David, I said (in my mind). But I could feel that it was hard for him to break through — by then, he had been locked away for too many years. “It’s okay, David,” I cooed. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” And finally, the little boy surfaced and tried to say something through his tears. It sounded very much like, “I love God. I love God.” However, because he was crying and trying to talk at the same time, I wasn’t exactly sure if that was what he said. But, the thought did cross my mind, I wonder if he has been mad at God all of these years for allowing him to be locked away as he was.
As I sat in my office and continued to write down the details of this experience, no sooner did I finish writing about the possibility that David had been mad at God, stream of consciousness words began to flow — words of love to my wounded inner child:
“You are free, David. I love you and you are free to come out of the castle and go anywhere in the world you want to be. You may go forth with all the wonder and joy that’s in your heart, without restriction, without judgment. You are allowed to be whoever you wish to be, in any way you see fit to be. No one will criticize you for the way you choose to exist and wonder at the world. It is your world to discover and to do whatever you wish with it. God bless you, David. Go forth. You have allowed yourself to exist in the castle for too long. Now that you are free, go forth and enjoy the beautiful sights and sounds and smells and tastes and beauty and wonder and the fantastic nature around you. It is okay. You shall see. Everything is okay for you. It is safe. You are protected and nourished and no harm will come to you ever again. God bless you little David. God bless you.”
A few minutes later, I thanked my guardian angel for participating as he had in the events that transpired earlier in the day. I told him that I now knew that I had unresolved forgiveness issues, and that my inner child was still very wounded and needed a lot of self-love. Was there something he could recommend that I should do to continue along the road to health and well-being? Here was his answer:
“Thanks indeed to Nola for recognizing the truth in your story about the King and the Prince. We gave you that story several months ago for this very reason. You needed to understand that you had been treated in an unloving way and that you did not deserve this treatment. It is an unfortunate experience that you arranged to have. And you have been dealing with its unfortunate consequences for many decades. God bless you Mathew and David. You are both one and the same and neither is more valid or worthy to live out their life than the other. You both must coexist; your inner child and your adult persona. Together you will find much happiness. But remember, it is your inner child that has been very neglected and badly treated for your entire life. He will need a lot of love and encouragement to come out of the castle and stay out in the light of day where he belongs. God bless him and you, Mathew, for having the courage to look within and find this little boy. You have done a wonderful thing by letting his pain leave your body. There will be more pain. But it is all good. You are forgiving yourself and others, and in the process, you are recovering your lost creative child.”
Later that day, with Nola’s encouragement, I cleaned up my office and threw out a lot of useless paper that had been sitting perched on a shelf above the computer table where I sat to write. In its place I felt a strong desire to hang some old framed pictures I had stored in a box that David had drawn many years ago. I wanted to show little David some respect now that he had ventured out of the castle, and I felt that by hanging up his art, that was a good place to start.
I went to bed that night feeling like a great weight had been lifted, however, I woke up the next day feeling completely out of sorts. I described it in my journal as “unsettled,” and went on to say, “something is not resolved within my soul right now. I feel a little bit unwell and a lot unsettled.” I sat by myself in the living room before anyone else woke up that morning and experienced a barrage of chills and then a sudden wave of cold. When it subsided, I felt sick to my stomach.
Minutes later, at my computer, I asked my guardian angel if there was anything he could tell me about the physical and emotional unsettled feelings I was having.
“You are going through a transition period right now where the things you wish to do and the things you have to do are aligning themselves. It will cause you some distress, both emotionally and physically, while this realignment takes place. You have been doing things that you have not wanted to do for many years and in so doing, you have trained yourself to live in ways and circumstances that you have not been happy with. This has caused some harm to your body and spirit which will be somewhat emotionally and physically painful to realign. But you know it is all for the best that you are doing what you are doing. In the end, you will be much healthier and wiser for subjecting yourself to the changes that you have undertaken to make in your life.”
He digressed for a minute, then continued, “Mathew, the chills you have been feeling are a reflection of the fears that have been stirred up by your efforts to release your wounded inner child. They are not spirit entities but only your own fears. They will pass in time as you continue to surrender to your true nature with love and devotion as you have done over the past year. The lack of wellness in your stomach is connected to all the above. You will feel better soon.”
But the next morning, I didn’t feel better. I woke up feeling a huge amount of anxiety in my chest. And I remembered a dream that I felt I had failed during the night.
In my dream, Nola and I are walking through an empty house looking for a new place to live. For some reason, we’re hoping to share a house with Nola’s brother’s family. Ideally, the house we hope to find will consist of two flats under one roof — at least, that’s what we’re hoping to find as we walk through this particular house. At first glance, the main floor seems workable for Nola’s brother, but when we get to the second floor, we see that it is small and not well suited to our needs. Thus, we agree to keep looking and we leave.
Outside the house, we have just walked out the door when I remember that I left my car keys on the kitchen counter. I return back to the kitchen, and am just about to pick up the keys when they literally jump up and fall back down on the counter. Realizing that a ghost is in the house, I slowly reach for the keys again — half expecting them to jump one more time — and as I do so, I say something cordial and friendly to the ghost. I am afraid, but I keep my composure and grab the keys. In fact, no sooner are they in my hand, I bolt for the door as fast as my legs can carry me. And that’s when I wake up.
Later that morning, committing this dream to my journal, I wrote, “So much for being a brave ghost hunter. I obviously need to work on doing a better job of mastering my fears.” I also wrote, “Was anxiety [that I felt upon waking] to blame for the dream failure or was the dream failure to blame for the anxiety? I believe the former to be the case. I have been feeling out of sorts for a few days now.”
Two weeks later, I experienced another breakthrough.
Waking in the night and descending through the darkness to an even darker basement (as usual), once again the chills began to overtake me. This time, however, rather than going into my office and immediately turning on the light, I sat down on the couch in the blackness of the playroom and began to meditate.
In the past, whenever the chills had arisen in me, they immediately had the effect of scaring me. But suddenly, meditating in the dark, the following thoughts crossed my mind:
It’s okay to feel the chills. I do not own the airspace around me. I share it. In fact, I really don’t own anything. I share everything. I love therefore I share. And because I love, I will attract others to me. And if I can be of service to others, I am grateful to help in any way I can. Therefore, feeling chills is not something to fear; feeling chills is something to rejoice. I am attracting the unseen and that is wonderful. I love them. I love everyone.
Just then, in the darkness, something landed with a thud on my lap, startling me. Fortunately, I was centered enough to instantly realize it was our pet cat, Toffee. Evidently, she was ready for someone to feed her breakfast. “Toffee, you silly girl,” I said. ” C’mon, let’s go upstairs,”
Walking towards the kitchen, I found myself chanting the words, “I share. I share. I share. I share. I share. ” And suddenly, the words became a Hebrew Hanukkah prayer I had learned to speak as a child, “I share. I share. I share. Asher kidishanu b’mitz’votav v’tzivanu l’had’lik neir.” And then I repeated it from the beginning. “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olamand asher kidishanu b’mitz’votav v’tzivanu l’had’lik neir,” and I started to cry. (The translation is “Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to light the lights.)
By the time I finished feeding the cat, I felt ready to return to the basement. Psychologically speaking, I felt prepared to accept the chills that I knew I would soon be feeling. In fact, as I headed back down the stairs, I invited them to return. And when they did, I walked around the darkness of the basement repeating my new mantra, “I share. I share. I share.” And I started to sob. “I love you. I love you all,” I wailed through my tears. “I share because I love you. I am your friend.”
It was an amazing experience; one in which I profoundly felt the spirit of Christ within me. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the experience was over. I went into my office, turned on a light and wrote the whole thing down. It was 7:00 in the morning, I turned on some uptempo music and felt blissfully happy. In fact, for the first time in a long, long time, I wondered if I was actually feeling joy.
The next night, I awoke once again in the small hours and returned to the basement. On my way through the darkness, once again, I chanted, “I share. I share. I share.” And once again, in my head, I invited anyone who cared to, to show up and give me the chills.
I don’t remember if I had any takers that night, because I didn’t write it down, however, something very interesting did happen. When I got to my office, rather than immediately turning on the light, I turned around in the doorway, faced into the blackness of the playroom and surrendered. And all of a sudden, my hands came together in front of my chest in prayer, my head and shoulders tipped slightly forward in a bow, and out of my mouth came the word “Namaste.” Wow, I thought, That was weird and cool. But what is “Namaste?” I turned on my light, started up my computer and connected to the internet.
Here is a selection of passages I found that night about “Namaste” from an article originally published in Hinduism Today in 1993:
“For Hindu(s), of course, the greeting of choice is “Namaste,” the two hands pressed together and held near the heart with the head gently bowed as one says, “Namaste.” Thus, it is both a spoken greeting and a gesture…”
“The hands held in union signify the oneness of an apparently dual cosmos, the bringing together of spirit and matter, or the self meeting the Self. It has been said that the right hand represents the higher nature, while the left hand represents the lower, worldly nature…”
“In Sanskrit “Namas” means, “bow, obeisance, reverential salutation.” It comes from the root Nam, which carries meanings of bending, bowing, humbly submitting and becoming silent. “Te” means “to you.” Thus “namaste” means “I bow to you.” the act of greeting is called “Namaskaram,” “Namaskara” and “Namaskar” in the varied languages of the subcontinent.”
“Namaste elevates one’s consciousness, reminding one that all beings, all existence is holy, is the Almighty. It communicates, ‘I honor or worship the Divinity within you.’ Also it draws the individual inward for a moment, inspires reflection on the deeper realities, softening the interface between people…”
“Namaste is a gesture of friendship and kindness, also of thanks or special recognition. Mystically it is called “Namaskara Mudra” in the Agami(c) Pooja, and it centers one’s energy within the spine.”
For the week that followed, every time I entered a dark room, I used the “Namaste” greeting followed by a blessing. I still got the chills, but somehow, with my new “I share” attitude, the fear seemed substantially diminished as I knew within my heart that the correct approach was not to conquer my fears, but to accept and love them.
By February of 2005, I was back to work on a contract that would take me through until August. Thus, once again, my spiritual progress was temporarily put on hold. Although, at the beginning of the job, I did have one memorable dream.
I am in a subway station and I realize I need to catch a bus. I run for the bus platform, and just as I get there, the bus pulls away. Rather than accepting that I missed the bus, I let out a loud whistle and the bus stops. As I approach, the doors open and I step inside. The bus driver, a friendly older black man, immediately gets out of his seat saying, “You made me stop, so how ’bout you drive?” I gladly take his seat, feeling confident that I know how to drive the bus.
In the next moment of the dream, I am driving the bus route, having a great time until I realize that there are bus stops along this route, and I’m supposed to be stopping for passengers. No sooner do I realize this, I see a stop ahead and pull over. Upon opening the doors, an elderly lady appears to be struggling with her groceries. I hop down and help her into the bus and soon we are on our way again. Moments later, I pull over at another stop where several people board, including a teenage girl who makes no attempt to pay. I look behind me at the old bus driver who is seated just behind. He shrugs as if to say, “Don’t worry about it.”
Further along the route, the bus is now completely full of passengers, and I am thoroughly enjoying the drive, occasionally asking the old driver for tips and pointers, which he gladly gives. After what seems like several minutes, I arrive at a stop that I know is mine. I stand up to leave, and feel a great sense of accomplishment; so much in fact, I feel tempted to raise my hands triumphantly in the air. Instead, however, I quietly thank the driver for letting me drive his bus, and say goodbye. Surprisingly, the bus driver tells me this is his stop too. So we get off the bus together. I feel very happy that the old man is walking my way. And I wake up.
When I wrote this dream down later that morning, I found it interesting that as soon as I finished, I started to cry with a deep sense of longing for the old man. Somehow, my intuition told me that the bus driver was a dear friend of mine.
By the end of September, I was already deep into a lengthy phase of unemployment when I had another meaningful dream. By the way, earlier that year, in March, my wife and I sold our home due to financial hardship. In the past, my “in between” periods (my euphemism for being unemployed) usually lasted anywhere from three to seven months — which was workable. But the phase that led up to the decision to sell our house had lasted fourteen months! And the next “in between” period (that began just before we moved), lasted another fourteen months. Later, between 2007 and 2010, I ended up experiencing an “in between” period of three years! In any event, on the night of September 28th, here was my dream:
I’m with a friend, hanging out at his house, when we both see a ghost enter the room. Although the ghost isn’t visible, what we do see is the door to the room open and close, followed by little puffs of white smoke that move around the room. Moments later, Nola enters the room. I tell her about the ghost and ask when she seems skeptical, I ask the ghost to open and close the door again in order to prove that it is really there. In short order, the ghost obliges my request.
In another dream that same night, I am driving my car at sunset and have no idea where I’m going. Suddenly, I see a tornado forming in the sky, and somehow, I feel comforted by this because the moment I see it, I know exactly where I’m going. I’m going to the tornado!
Three months later, on January 4, 2006 (the two year anniversary of my spirit rescue and release), I was very much in the throws of that second fourteen month period of “in between” when my bedside alarm suddenly went off for no apparent reason at 1:30 in the morning. Upon hearing the blaring noise, Nola immediately jumped out of bed saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s for me.”
I switched off the alarm, looked at the time, and realized something wasn’t right (I knew I had set the alarm for 7 am when Nola and I had gone to bed at 11:50. So, who or what had suddenly set off my alarm?). “It’s not for you, honey,” I said. “It’s only 1:30. I have no idea why the alarm went off. Sorry.”
After lying in bed for a few minutes, as much as I didn’t want to, I had to get up. I didn’t believe in coincidence. Thus, the fact that the alarm had gone off had to mean something. But what? I was tired and irritated, having had less than two hours sleep, but I got up anyway and walked around the house to see if something unusual was going on. When I couldn’t find anything either inside or outside the house, I made my way to my computer where I sat down and channeled my guardian angel.
“God bless you, Mathew,” he said. “Your alarm went off because you forgot to turn off the button that controls the snooze function. When you went to bed, you accidentally set the snooze for two hours.”
“That’s weird,” I said, thinking he had to be wrong. “I’ll check it out in the morning. I didn’t know there was a function that could do that. Thank you.”
I immediately turned around and asked the same question of my spirit guide.
“Yes, Mathew,” he replied. “You did in fact hit buttons that caused a snooze function to activate.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m going to stop you there as I am doubting my receiving tonight. Sorry. No offense.”
“No offense taken. Good night. Everything’s fine, Mathew. Go back to bed.”
In the morning, after the alarm went off at 7 am, I found that my guardian angel and spirit guide had been absolutely correct. My alarm clock did have a programmable snooze function called “nap” that could be set by depressing two buttons simultaneously. Somehow, when I was setting my alarm, a task I did after the lights were already out, I accidentally set the “nap” function for the maximum time of 99 minutes.
Being out of work for two consecutive fourteen month periods meant that the winter season brought all kinds of personal and family challenges. Consequently, it’s hardly surprising that my spiritual life took a back seat until the middle of May when the dreams started up again. On May 12, 2006, at 3:00 am, I awoke with a start, feeling that old familiar fear, and remembering the dream that caused it.
In the dream, I am standing in my current house, just inside the front door, when all of a sudden a very large man in black materializes in the house between me and the door. His face and his posture indicate pure aggression, pure anger and ill-intent. I immediately wake up. [Although I never actually saw the spirit being that attacked me back in January of 2004 — he never showed himself for obvious reasons as he was posing as Jesus — I immediately knew that the man in black in my dream was the very same being that had attacked me.
While we’re on the subject, this feels like a good time to tell you that as controversial as I always felt this information would be, both my guardian angel and my spirit guide identified the being that attacked me as “the devil.” Up until now, I have for the most part avoided calling this being “the devil” in written accounts of my experiences. However, given the context of this story, I feel I really need to come clean this time because as a direct result of my attack, I was left with several issues — issues that came up during this period of my life. So, now you know what I know.)
Back in my bed, suddenly awake and fearful, I got up and headed upstairs to my office. (In our new house, my office was on the third floor.) I immediately began to distract myself by working on some writing that was unrelated to my dream when after about an hour, it suddenly occurred to me, by turning my attention to this other writing, I was running away from my fear. I knew very well that my dream had shown me that I was afraid of the devil. So, what was I going to do about it?
Because I knew I was too spooked to write about it, and I didn’t know what else to do to process the fear that I was now once again feeling, I decided to go back to bed. Heading down the stairs to my bedroom, I felt a pronounced presence of evil, and felt afraid — so much that I stopped in my tracks and prayed for help and protection.
A few moments later, feeling no less afraid, I crawled into bed where I lay awake for several minutes until I began to chastise myself:
The devil is in your house, lurking in the dark, and you have just crawled into bed?
Clearly, I had to do something.
As much as I was afraid, I got back out of bed and proceeded to storm around every darkened room, every darkened closet and every darkened hiding space in my house (with the exception of the three bedrooms where my wife and kids were sleeping), fearfully and angrily denouncing the devil’s presence, and demanding in the name of Jesus and all things Holy that it leave at once!
In the end, although I know this was a worthy exercise — and I certainly felt better having gotten out of bed and allowed myself to express my fear through anger — I knew I hadn’t actually accomplished anything productive. Consequently, when the daylight came, and I wrote about this experience in my journal, I was already looking forward to a second opportunity — an opportunity where I could engage the devil with love and forgiveness, not with anger and fear.
Three days later, before I went to bed I prayed for help in learning whatever lessons it was I needed to learn about the devil. Here is the dream I had that night:
I am in a hotel room, and I have to use the restroom. I know the adjoining room has a toilet, so I walk through the doorway into that room only to stop when I see a man sleeping in the bed. Surprised, I immediately return to my own room, but instead of going to look for a another toilet somewhere else, I lay down on my bed.
Strangely, as I lay on my bed, I can see the man in the adjoining room through a window in the wall. There is a shaft of light hitting his face, and for a moment I watch him, but then I realize it is wrong to watch, so I close my eyes and try to sleep. No sooner do I do this, however, I suddenly feel the presence of the man in my own bed, and I know that this “man” is the devil. Not wanting to give in to fear, I begin to pray to God, looking for strength, however, as I do this, the devil curls in closer to my body from behind, and I feel disgusted. I get the sick feeling like he going to sexually assault me, and I immediately try to fight him off. But in doing so, I touch the flesh of his arm, and I am repulsed beyond words. And I am suddenly overwhelmed by an all consuming fear. “Please forgive me, God,” I say, and I wake up.
Waking from this dream, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think about the dream and wonder where I went wrong. I can’t say the thoughts that occurred to me were any different than thoughts I had had in the past, but somehow they were, or maybe it was that I was different, because it seemed to me that I was finally beginning to understand.
For one, I wondered why the devil was created in the first place. If Love is perfect and God is Love, then why do we have a force in this world that rebels against love? When I realized that I had no good answer to this question, I moved on until eventually, my thoughts brought me to a point where they kept on repeating:
I am an eternal being and I choose love.
Once that thought was ingrained in my heart and mind, my thoughts progressed to:
I am incapable of choosing anything but love. And whatever I feel that isn’t love, be it fear or be it any kind of pain or suffering, it doesn’t matter because it is temporary. And with all the pain and suffering and ultimately the death that I will one day experience, I am an eternal being, So enough is enough. You, the devil, have made your choice to live in this lower world, and I forgive you as God forgives you. And I am not going to be afraid of you any more. You may be around me if you choose. I accept that I share this world with you. But I am done being afraid.
With that, I reached my arms out into the darkness and in a symbolic gesture, I embraced the darkness — beautiful, peaceful, loving, darkness, and of course, the hiding place for those who do not wish to be seen. God bless them all, I thought to myself. God bless them and help them find their way to the light. After exploring this line of thought for several more minutes, I began to feel fantastic. So much in fact, I got out of bed, and got dressed. My middle daughter, Emily, who was 18 at the time, was downstairs watching a movie with her boyfriend. Something told me that I should go for a walk, and that’s what I did. I said hello to Emily and her boyfriend as they sat on the couch. I then put on a jacket and headed out into the cool of the night.
As I walked the darkened streets, whenever I felt a sudden chill, I told whatever it was that I forgave it, and I invited it to seek love and truth and beauty and move to the light, to eternity. It felt good to do this.
Near the end of my walk, I suddenly realized something important with respect to my question about why God created the devil. Namely, it didn’t matter why. Because, whatever the answer was, I realized I already forgave God.
God forgives me for everything that I’ve done and will do — that is the nature of Love. So likewise, I forgive God.
Funny, I never thought of that before — that I would ever find myself in a place where I needed to find forgiveness for God. I also realized something else. In the grand scheme of things, the devil serves an important function in this world. Without evil, we would never truly know pain and suffering. And without pain and suffering, we would never truly understand the nature of love.
So, although the lessons are extremely painful and often unfathomable, they are valuable nonetheless. Thus, I forgave the devil for being that which it is. And I forgave God for the existence of the devil. And I felt sorry for all of us, without exception, that it was necessary to make this temporary journey through this land of pain and suffering.
Two weeks later, on May 29th, I had an interesting dream:
I am with friends, standing on the front steps of my house, when one of them mentions they are going to a seance and asks if I want to come. “I can’t. Sorry” I say. And I go on to explain that the reason I can’t go is because “I have a powerful third eye.” (An expression I never use, by the way.)
Upon disclosing this fact, my friend is suddenly interested to know more, and wonders if perhaps I was aware of the ghost that was inside a property we recently visited. I tell him I wasn’t aware, however, there definitely was a presence inside another property we were at — a local mansion that is now a public museum.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” my friend says, “because, did you know that someone committed suicide in that house?”
I woke up experiencing chills as if there was a presence around me. It was 2:00 am and I decided to get up and head downstairs to the living room where I sat in the dark and went through my standard routine of meditation and prayer.
Throughout the whole time, I really felt a presence around me although by the time I headed back upstairs to bed at 7:00 am, I wasn’t sure if my prayers and my love and my advice had had any effect. However, when I woke up an hour and a half later, I felt joyous. And two things suddenly occurred to me that I had never thought about before:
Rather than waiting for people to call me with a request to rid them and and their properties of ghosts, why couldn’t I be helping ghosts immediately by inviting them to come to me? I had invited a ghost to come to me twenty-five years earlier when I knew nothing about the world of spirit. Now that I knew a little something, surely it had to be enough to help. For a moment I wondered why it had taken me more than two years since rescuing Jack and Lorraine to come to this conclusion. And I quickly answered myself by saying, I think I needed to find forgiveness for God and the devil before I could be ready for this intention to become clear. And suddenly, just like that, I knew I was ready to take the next step.
Funny how it had never occurred to me to offer help to ghosts who might be on the verge of making a move to the light, but needed just a little more assurance before making that leap. Surely, these ghosts would be a lot more cooperative than the ones I might encounter if I was invited into people’s homes to rid them of an entity that was the source of an annoyance or worse.
And so, this information came to me as a revelation. As did one other thing. Over the course of the past few years, I had been forced to live with a negative phenomenon wherein out of context rude thoughts, the kind you might hear a homeless person with Tourette Syndrome mumbling, would occasionally cause me annoyance by entering my consciousness when I was engaged in a conversation with someone — usually an acquaintance or someone I had just met. Because these thoughts were completely random, ill-timed, and extremely rude, I knew they were a form of attack, however, I was helpless to stop them. After suffering for many, many months, I began to think of them as “spam.”
Now, back to the story — a few days before the night I realized I could invite ghosts to come to me, I was engaged in conversation when I suddenly felt the tell-tale signs of an oncoming spam attack. But the spam never made it through. Instead, I felt a mild sensation of pressure on my temples. And then, the attack was over, and the pressure ceased. And for the first time in months, something had successfully blocked a spam attack.
Well, I have to say, as crazy as this sounds — and I realize I have written about a lot of crazy things — I was thrilled to have experienced this relief. Thus, two days later, when I woke up realizing I could invite ghosts to come to me, I also wondered if there was a device that could be made, sort of like headphones, only this device would consist of two small foam covered discs that when worn, could be adjusted to exert mild pressure on the temples. After all, I reasoned, how likely could it be that I was the only one who ever suffered from spam attacks? Although I believed I had experienced a breakthrough, and thus, was probably on my way to permanently healing my own annoying spam attacks, I wondered whether such a device might assist people who were unduly suffering this same affliction.
The night before I had this thought, I watched a program on television about two identical twins, one a Harvard trained psychiatrist, the other a schizophrenic. During the program, the Harvard grad expressed how helpless she felt in the face of her sister’s suffering because there was nothing she could do to stop her sister from hearing voices and hurting herself as per the voice’s instructions. Hearing that, I wondered if anyone had ever experimented with a simple device that exerted mild pressure on the temples of schizophrenic patients.
The very next night, I had another dream:
I am back on a bus again, only I am a passenger, and the bus is filled with familiar coworkers as well as a few friends. I’m having a good time traveling on the bus, when I look out the window and realize we’re approaching my stop. I ask the bus driver to stop and he does. I then begin to say goodbye to some of the people on the bus, hugging and kissing them as if I am not going to ever see them again. I feel like I would like to take my time and individually say goodbye to everyone, but the bus is so crowded, I realize it will take much too long. Instead, I say a general goodbye and give a small wave. And I wake up.
Lying in bed, remembering this dream, I felt excited because I recognized it as a prescient dream — a dream that was showing me an event in my near future that was more than likely to occur. I had had prescient dreams several times in my life, and they were always plainly obvious when they happened. And this one was no exception. I had long wanted to leave the production side of the film industry where I worked on a freelance basis, only I could never figure out what else I could do to earn money?
Was a career change finally coming?
Based on this dream, I suddenly felt certain, and as a result, the excitement I felt was overwhelming. (In hindsight, I had jumped to conclusions that night with my interpretation. Little did I know, I wasn’t going to be changing careers, I was going to be moving my family twenty seven hundred miles from Toronto to Los Angeles. So, yes, I did end up saying goodbye to all my friends and coworkers who resided in Toronto. That much was true.)
In any event, it was 4:00 am, and I was all excited about my dream. Unable to lay in bed, I headed downstairs to the living room to meditate in the darkness and soon found myself delivering a sermon (in my head) to anyone who could hear me in the astral plane (I called it purgatory back then). In my sermon, I told them that life was eternal. And I urged them to forgive themselves and others and to come home. I told them that they were not home, and that if they believed they were, that the true test was to be aware of whether or not they were feeling any pain, suffering, fear, anger, hatred, jealousy, envy, or any other negative emotion because it they were, then they were not home in heaven. Heaven, I told them, is a place that is free of pain and suffering, free of fear, free of negativity, free of want and need, where we feel joy and fulfillment and where everyone is welcome to live. I then went on to tell them a little about God — at least, that God is Love, which means that God is patient and kind, that God does not insist or demand or force, that God waits with eternal patience for all souls to decide of their own free will. And when they are ready, God accepts everyone with open arms. And that was more or less what I said in my mind to the darkness of my living room in those early morning hours. Before I did so, however, I asked the angels to surround me and protect me with light and love. And I asked them to make themselves visible to anyone who had ears to hear, because surely, if they had ears to hear, they also had eyes to see. When I was done with my little sermon, I wished everyone peace and wished them to seek the light.
I had no idea whether anyone other than the angels had heard me that morning. But I knew it felt good to spend a few minutes having that monologue play out in my head and my heart. Even if it was only practice, it felt good. And I felt glad for having tried something. And I realized that I had finally stepped up onto that soapbox I once swore I would never set foot on.
Twenty-two years earlier, after Jesus had materialized in a room with me (I later referred to him as “The Beautiful Being” in my written account), I wondered what I was supposed to do with the information I received in that encounter. I knew I had been given a gift of valuable information, but there was no way that I was going to stand up on a soapbox on a busy city street and tell the masses about God and Jesus and the power of prayer. Well, that morning in the darkness, I felt like I had finally stepped up onto that soapbox, even if the soapbox was my living room couch, and even if the masses were discarnate souls I couldn’t see, and even if my sermon had been delivered telepathically. It felt good all the same. And it was start.
Later that morning, I was still feeling excitement when I decided to tell Nola about how I had said goodbye to everyone in a dream. “So I suppose you think your dream means that you don’t have to work in the film industry anymore?” she asked. To which I replied, “Yes. But maybe not right away. Usually, these kinds of dreams predict something that happens maybe six to nine months later. So, as much as I wish I was through, maybe there’s one more film I’m going to have to do first.”
Nola didn’t say anything right away. But I knew she was upset. She paused for what felt like forever until finally, after what was probably no more than a few seconds she said, “It’s not that I’m not happy for you, because I am, it’s just that I’m scared. I’m scared that not working in film production means that we won’t be able to live this life style that I have grown accustomed to living.”
“I understand,” I said. “But that’s what having faith is all about.”
“But if you know there’s God, then why do you have to have faith?” she said in a way that I perceived as mocking me. I perceived it that way because her question was the title of a chapter heading I had recently written in a book proposal — a proposal I gave Nola to read the day before, after which, unfortunately for my feelings, she failed to express any enthusiasm, though she did make a comment about that particular chapter heading. So, suddenly, the next day, there she was throwing that chapter heading in my face. I felt immediately insulted.
“That was an old chapter,” I said. “I’ve learned a lot since then.” (After Jesus materialized in a room with me at the age of 23, I felt like I didn’t need to have faith because I was left with a certainty that God was real. Much later in life, however, I came to realize that faith was not only about believing in or knowing God, it was about maintaining an unwavering inner knowing, regardless of outward circumstances, that everything is always in divine perfect order. Therefore, if something was to ever cause me pain and suffering, my faith required me to look deeper into the matter in order to try to uncover the cause and make the necessary corrections and adjustments.)
Nola reacted by repeating something she had said moments before in the conversation, and because I had already been insulted by her words, I cut her off. “I understand. You’re scared.”
And that was the end of civility. “Just let me finish,” she said, annoyed with me.
“But I know what you’re going to say. You’re repeating yourself,” I offered.
“Oh, like you never repeat yourself?”
“Yes, you’re right. I do repeat myself.”
“So why can’t you just be nice to me for a change? Just be nice to me,” she pleaded.
After a few moments, I said, “I’m sorry my truth scares you.” With that, I made a move to hug her, but she wouldn’t let me. Instead, she pulled away, tears in her eyes.
“Not now, ” she said. “This conversation is over.”
“Good Lord,” I sighed out loud, as I watched Nola leave the room.
And there I stood, suddenly feeling very alone; as alone as I had ever felt. Unfortunately, following my faith and my truth have been acts of courage that have frequently been met with opposition from my partner.
Nola and I went through that morning unable to settle. After coexisting for five hours in the same house on different floors, I finally approached her. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” I asked.
“I have nothing to say,” she responded.
“Great,” I said. “Thanks so much,” and I turned to walk away.
“Why are you so angry with me?” she asked
“Because, you haven’t tried to settle with me. I came to you last and you rejected me. And I even apologized.”
“That wasn’t an apology,” she quipped. “That was one of your famous qualified apologies.”
“It was not.”
“Yes it was.”
“You said, ‘I’m sorry you got scared.'”
“Actually, I said, ‘I’m sorry my dream scared you.'”
“Right. A qualified apology.”
“So what was wrong with that?”
It didn’t address why I was upset.”
“Oh okay, so why were you so upset?”
“Because you hurt me,” she said.
“Well you hurt me too,” I responded. It was all I could come up with.
Instead of settling, we were embroiled in a contest. Who hurt who more? Who should apologize first? Nola didn’t have anything to say, so she didn’t bother trying to initiate a settlement. And when she continued to tell me that she had nothing to say, once again the conversation ended.
Later that evening, I was reading in our bedroom when Nola entered the room. “So, I guess you’re happy with the way things are between us?”
“No. But you have nothing to say. So until you do, I guess this is the way it’s going to be.”
At that, Nola sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at me. “What do you want me to say?”
“How the hell should I know?” I replied, allowing the anger to rise in me. “Besides, why should I figure this out for you? You’re the one that hurt me and you haven’t even attempted to apologize.”
“How did I hurt you?” she asked.
The fact that she didn’t know prompted the anger to rise even further. I lashed out and called her a name like “stupid” or “blind” to which she responded by telling me that I was being unnecessarily cruel. She didn’t understand why, she said. And she didn’t know how to solve our situation. On my part, I didn’t want to dig down into my hurt in order to remember the exact actions that had caused it to surface. I wanted her to figure it out. But she wouldn’t try.
“I don’t know how to solve this,” she repeated. As she did, my mind traveled back in time to earlier that morning and found a place to start.
“I told you a dream that was good news for me and instead of being supportive, you had to turn around and make it about you. It was MY dream. And by making it about you, and telling me that you were scared, you were basically saying to me, ‘I don’t understand you” and ‘I don’t trust you.” Clearly, our faiths are different. And I wish they weren’t.”
Nola sat in silence for a few seconds. Then she stood up to go.
“I have been trying to change my life for twenty-five years,” I continued. “And when I finally have a dream that tells me I am on the right track and change might be just around the corner, you tell me you’re scared because you like our lifestyle, and maybe our lifestyle will have to change. So your lifestyle is more important to you than my happiness. And that’s from someone who has continually said throughout the years, ‘Let’s move into a smaller house…we don’t need to live in such an expensive house.’ Yeah, right.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Nola said. And with that she left the room. A half hour later she came back into the bedroom where I was reading to tell me that dinner was ready any time I wanted it. She then left for a night class she was enrolled in at the time.
Four hours later, when Nola got home, I was already asleep in bed. I heard her get into bed, and I said “Hi,” but all I got was a scoff, and I was too tired to open myself up to more conversation.
In the morning, Nola stayed in bed while I got up, made Kaylin breakfast, and had a shower before driving Kaylin to school. While I stood under the shower, I asked God to help me to overcome my anger. I wasn’t sure why Nola’s reaction to my dream had upset me to the degree that it had. My dream scared her. What was so hard to understand about that? What was so offensive about that? Where was my compassion? I knew my reaction wasn’t loving. And I recognized that I had been stuck in a negative state ever since I had told her my dream and I couldn’t seem to shake it.
In the end, one thing good that came out of our argument for me was the observation that our faiths were different. I appeared to have more faith, or at least was prepared to show more faith than my wife. Perhaps this was fair, I reasoned. Nola loved me and stood by me for twenty years while, unaware of the fact that I had a closed heart as a result of my childhood abuse, I struggled to love her back. Love for me was a left-brained function of logic, not something that was felt in the heart. Thus, I was incapable all those years of real love until Nola assisted, with God and the angels, in bringing about a situation that opened my heart to the point that I could clearly see that if not for my wife, I would not have learned all that I had learned about love.
So, with this apparent disparity of faith, were we headed into a period of karmic balancing? In other words, was I going to help Nola learn something more about faith as she had helped me learn about love? The way I suddenly saw it, I was prepared to accept that as the case. And I felt grateful for the opportunity. In the meantime, however, how were we going to move past our argument? I felt ready to let it go since I felt I understood a little something about the dynamics. But would Nola?
When I returned home after taking Kaylin to school, Nola and I settled without any difficulty. I led off with an apology after which she reciprocated in kind. And that was that. There was nothing left that needed to be said. In fact, neither of us were sure what had happened to cause us to think, feel and react in the ways that we had in the first place. After we made up, we went for a long walk together and it was nice — everything was right in the world again.
The next morning, however, I woke up with a heaviness in my mind and a sadness in my heart. Having no reason that I could think of, I meditated and prayed for help. Knowing what I did about God and life and love, I felt certain that there was no reason to walk through my day feeling anything other than thankful and grateful. But I wasn’t. And I hadn’t been for several days.
Had I picked up a hitchhiker (my new name for an uninvited spirit attachment).
Maybe the confusion I am feeling isn’t my own. Because I know I am not confused. I know the truth.
When this thought occurred to me, I decided to pray as if I had a hitchhiker and as if that hitchhiker could hear me. I then stated the truths that I had learned about God and love and eternity, and asked the hitchhiker to repeat them with me. In the end, I didn’t experience a monumental flow of tears like I had when Jack and Lorraine moved on. I felt a little better, though, but still a bit heavy in the head and a bit sad in my heart.
Two days later, on June 4th, I was still feeling this same sadness. And I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t shake it. I took my family to a community fair and felt so antisocial, awkward and completely out of place, I felt as if I had suddenly been transported into an alien world. It was so strange to feel this way, and although I recognized the feelings as something I had experienced at another time in my life, they were back with such disturbing intensity, I finally had to excuse myself and go home, leaving Nola and the kids behind at the fair.
A few days earlier I had been feeling so unsettled and anxious, I sat myself in front of the TV for a little distraction and of all things, ended up watching a show called The Ghost Whisperer — a show I had never seen before. As I watched scenes of ghosts trying to communicate to the central character, I got the chills and felt spooked in a way that I hadn’t been for several months. That night, I had another one of those strange restroom dreams I have from time to time. In this one, I had no choice but to use a restroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades. It was disgusting. However, as soon as I left the facility, I saw that there was a brand new restroom just around the corner that I had somehow missed seeing on my way in.
Earlier that same day, I drove Emily to a job interview and waited for her in the car. She had found this job prospect on the web, which concerned me to the point that I volunteered to take her to the interview. The building where the interview was held was clean and in a neighborhood that seemed safe enough, however, the longer I waited in the car, the more paranoid I became.
How could I be sure what was going on in that building? Was my daughter safe?
After an hour, I couldn’t sit and wait any longer — I had to go inside the building and see what was going on. Inside the building, I found a large room where a seminar was being conducted — clearly, the “interview” involved a sales pitch. As it turned out, the job was to sell butcher blocks and knives using door to door direct marketing.
Two days later, in the pre-dawn hours of June 4th, I woke up suddenly convinced that all the negative feelings I had been experiencing throughout the week were not my own. I was sure that somewhere along the line I had picked up a hitchhiker. As I lay in bed, I prayed first, and then spoke to this individual as if they were there and listening, doing the best I could to convince them to move on. At one point, I asked them to join me in reciting “The Lord’s Prayer” — “Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” I then asked the angels to assist in guiding this spirit home.
Meanwhile, as all of this was happening, I was experiencing all kinds of chills — in particular, one set of chills was so strong and unusual, it reminded me of the chills I had felt more than twenty years earlier — the first time I invited a ghost to enter my body for the purpose of automatic writing. In any event, when I felt I had said all I could say to the interloper, I continued to lay in bed praying and asking for forgiveness. Finally, I fell back to sleep.
In the morning, I woke remembering a dream:
I am in the foyer of a home that my family lived in during my teenage years, and it’s night. Outside, on the porch, I see a figure skulking in the shadows. There is a man with me in the foyer, and when I tell him what I have just seen outside, he charges out the door, pulling a gun as he goes.
Outside on the street, the man has the intruder, a teenage boy, pinned against a white van. The boy claims that he was sent by someone to do a break and enter. As I watch the confrontation, I feel a wave of anger take hold of me, and I suddenly rush up to the kid, ready to unleash my anger. But the moment I see his face, I feel a sudden wave of compassion, and I start to talk to him like a friend. I tell him I would like to help him, but I don’t know how. He tells me he would like to move into my house, and I tell him that that isn’t possible right now. I tell him I haven’t worked in a year (which is true) and I am broke (which is also true). In fact, I say, you probably have more money than I do. I also tell him that the house doesn’t belong to me (it’s my parents’ house).
Nevertheless, I want to help him somehow so I ask him for his name and phone number. When I see him write down his name as Daniel, I tell him that I knew that that was his name. I go on to explain that I am somewhat psychic and his name came to me before I saw him write it down. I ask him where he’s from and he tells me. I ask him if he wants my phone number and he declines. As we say goodbye, he is sitting in the front passenger seat of the white van and I can see another man in the driver’s seat. I have no idea who this other man is, but I say goodbye to both as they drive away.
Just as I was waking from this dream, I wondered if Daniel had given me his real phone number or a fake one. I even wonder if Daniel was his real name. Had I just been scammed? I didn’t know. But then I came back to full consciousness, and I suddenly wondered if Daniel was another ghost who was waiting for me to help him. It seemed likely. And I wondered if I suddenly had a line up of people waiting for my help.
I guess I should clarify, the line up notion had occurred to me because over the course of the previous twenty-four hours, the name Genevieve kept popping into my head. And it had done so again in the middle of the night when I had felt certain that the feelings I had been experiencing were definitely not my own.
How had it become so easy for ghosts to suddenly enter my body, I wondered.
Could it be possible because I had stated my intention and willingness to help them from the comfort of my own home?
I decided it was all okay with me, however, I wasn’t sure if I was helping anybody or if my interpretation of my dreams and the events that had occurred over the last several days were accurate. I decided to ask my guardian angel for clarification. Here was his answer:
“You have been going through a tough emotional time of late and it is just as you suspect. You have successfully assisted two different ghosts from the earth plane to the higher plane. Well done. Genevieve was one of the ghosts you helped. Peter was another. Well done indeed. You did in fact state your intention, so we have begun to steer individuals in your direction whom we think you are capable of helping. And you are.
“God bless you for your interest in helping those who are seeking help. It is a beautiful act of compassion to help those who require help. This is the nature of all of existence — to assist in the growth and development of our brothers and sisters in any way we can. In your case, you have an inner light that is attractive to these souls. They can sense that you know something and that you will offer them good advice. And they are listening. So we will keep sending these lost souls your way as long as you feel willing and able to assist.
“Daniel is indeed another who is interested in ‘living with you’ as he said to you. He died recently in a car accident. 19 years old. Speed racing through the city streets. Crashed into a pole. Injured the man who was with him in the white van you saw. But that man is still alive. In his sleep he traveled with Daniel to you, because Daniel has been hanging around him, feeling great remorse for what he has done. So, now you know the background. Perhaps you can help him.”
When the channeling had finished, I realized I wasn’t sure who I had been receiving from. Had it been my spirit guide or was it my guardian angel? And who was Peter? Unfortunately, as had been the case for the past few months, for reasons unknown, I couldn’t feel anything in my heart as I received. This had always been a safety check for me in the past — as long as I could feel the high vibration of love in my heart, I knew the source could be trusted. For the time being however, I was operating blind.
Later that day, I decided to check the internet to see if I could find a news article referencing a street racing fatality and a victim named Daniel. When I couldn’t find anything, in light of the negative energy I had been feeling all week, it left me wondering about the veracity of my channeling and the possibility that it had been compromised or corrupted.
The next day, June 5, once again I was out of sorts again. I wanted to continue writing, but was completely without passion and feeling lost. In my journal I wrote, “I don’t know who I am or what I am doing….Life moves along while we dutifully serve those things which distract us. But, not so for me. I have no interest in going back to my life of distraction. In the meantime, however, I am at a loss as to what to do with myself. So, with feelings like this, it seems pointless to write — other than to express my feelings like I am doing now.
Once again, I was confronted with the thought: Are these my feelings or are they someone else’\s? How can I know what I know and yet feel what I feel? It doesn’t make sense. This is the third time in as many days that I have reverted to old feelings. This can’t be right. These must be the feelings of a hijacker. Daniel? Have you moved in, in spite of the fact that I told you not to?”
“I thought so. Thanks for being honest.”
“Sorry to trouble you. You are a nice guy for letting me visit unannounced as I am. I am the one who is lost. And I was hoping that maybe by living with you for a time, I might find my way. Sorry if I am a burden to you.”
“That’s okay. As long as I know that I am not feeling my own feelings, I think I can cope better. And I will pray for you. Because you really shouldn’t stay here with me. This can’t be healthy for either of us — and I don’t wish to be an enabler. I am happy to offer help, but not help of this sort. You know, I am not the answer to your questions. I am but a marker on your path. I can only advise you to pray to God, like Jesus showed me to do. And I can only advise you to forgive yourself for those things you feel guilty about, because God forgives you already. Forgiveness opens up the doorway to truth. I have discovered this as you can. So pray. And ask for help from the heavenly angels. And you will be amazed what will happen. That is my best advice. I love you and want you to be free and happy. You do not need to resign yourself to feeling lost as you do.”
I went on to teach Daniel “The Lord’s Prayer,” and left him with the thought, “All that stands in your way is you. Please let God help you to help yourself. Good luck, brother. You know what to do.”
No sooner did I finish my conversation with Daniel, a channeled message came through. I didn’t ask for it; it came as a surprise.
“Peace be with you, Mathew. You have discovered something very useful to the spirit world. You have discovered that by loving disembodied spirits, they too can find their way to peace and fulfillment. Daniel is one such soul as this. He was attracted to you, which you know about because of the dream you had two nights ago. But he hadn’t taken your advice — until just now. He prayed along with you and the angels came and ministered to him. He is on the other side right now, in the light, and he is thankful for your love and compassion. You truly did help him. Even in spite of your doubt, you have helped another soul. And in so doing, you are discovering one of the talents you have been bestowed with in this lifetime. Use it wisely my son. And be aware of the fact that the dark forces are able to exploit this side of you just as you are able to use this gift for good.
“You have a weakness that they will use, so be careful to remember that you have come into this world to be one with the God force who resides within your being — within the beings of all of mankind — and to do such, you must trust yourself and be that person you have come here to be… Continue to do those very things you recommend to others to do: pray and be joyful and do your best to be thankful for all that you have… Peace to you brother. The angels.”
The next morning, I woke with a very sore neck and assumed I had slept in an odd position. As I flexed and rubbed my neck, I recalled a strange dream from during the night:
A friend of mine needs a lift to work. After I drop her off, I somehow manage to pick up a guy named Joe who also needs a lift. Joe has a lot of energy, in fact, he appears to be hyperactive and easily distracted. For instance, as we are walking to my car, he catches the eye of an attractive woman, and takes a moment to talk her up and get her number. When I see him next, I recall he is busy trying to fix something on a truck — in my awake state, I can no longer remember whose truck it was. In any event, I find something attractive about Joe — perhaps it’s his magnetism, and maybe I’m feeling a little jealous of the ease in which he approached that woman on the street. However, there is also something about his energy that concerns me; something about him that isn’t quite right.
As I woke up and recalled this dream, I couldn’t help but wonder if the angels had sent me a new case.
In the shower, I prayed for Joe, and found that my prayers left me feeling confused. I had the uneasy feeling that if Joe was there, he was resistant to help. I also had the distinct feeling that Joe wanted to help me — that he thought it was me who needed his help. I reacted to these thoughts and feelings by trying to explain to Joe that it was him who was lost and confused, not me, but these thoughts were met with resistance. Joe sensed that I was trying to get rid of him. And the more he sensed this, the more he dug his heels in. He was adamant that it was me who needed his help and even though I was resisting this idea, he said he wasn’t going to leave. Suddenly, standing there in shower, I began to question my motives.
Was I really interested in helping Joe, or did I simply want to get rid of him now that I knew he was there?
Upon reflection, I could see an element of truth to both questions. I didn’t want Joe hanging around causing me to feel confusion, but on the other hand, I was sincere in my interest in helping him and others to find their way to love and light and truth. So I leveled with him, doing my best to explain the truth while in return, I got the feeling that Joe was not going to be a quick and easy rescue like Daniel was. Joe was going to take patience and love and an investment of time.
Later that day, as I reflected on my situation, I seriously wondered if I had lost my mind.
Was any of this real?
It was all so flimsy, relying completely on my thoughts, feelings and dreams, and the occasional spirit communication.
Was I really doing something useful?
In the real world, I was in-between jobs and back on the financial edge. Bills were due in a week and I had no idea where the money was going to come from. What was I doing entertaining the idea of helping disincarnate beings? Maybe I had a problem. Maybe I had a Jesus concept — thinking that I was saving souls when really, the simple truth was I was deluded. Of course, this would be exactly the thinking that Joe would want me to have.
In the shower earlier in the day, at one point I got the feeling that Joe didn’t believe in God, and that Joe was wandering around purgatory picking up woman and working on trucks, and in the process of that, believed he was leading a life of purpose. As I thought about all of this, once again, I found my way back to the truth. I knew I wasn’t crazy. And I realized that this was the fourth time in as many days that I had been overwhelmed with old thoughts and feelings, thoughts and feelings that I unequivocally knew were not my own.
I am with God therefore God is with me.
I knew this in my heart of hearts. And I knew that my motivations were honest and sincere. The only thing left to do was to pray for help. When I was done praying, I channeled a message from my guardian angel.
“You are doing well to recognize the forces of darkness, Mathew. You do not have the wrong idea about what is happening in your life right now. You have asked to help and you are being presented with situations and circumstances where you can use your talents and strengths to help those in need. You are absolutely correct in your summation of what is going on and what has been going on for the past four days. Keep at it as you have begun to do and you will see resolution with Joe and with all others who are brought into your sphere of influence. You know what to do, Mathew, and you are doing it.
“Yes, you were right in your assertion that Daniel was easy to steer to truth whereas others such as Joe will be much more difficult and will require much more patience and love to effect a change. But don’t give up and don’t give in, and continue to ask for help and protection as you do. That is all we can say at this time other than we love you and respect all that you are doing and all that you aspire to do. Don’t worry about your writing. Your book will come into being when it is ready. You only have to do that which you are passionate about doing and the rest will take care of itself.”
Once again, during this channeling, my feelings didn’t register a thing. Thus, all I could do was follow my faith and pray for the best.
Two days later, Joe left me. I didn’t get the feeling that he had taken my advice, rather, I got the feeling he got bored with me and left for something more interesting. I came to this conclusion after I had woken up feeling awful and spent the morning in prayer. First, I stood under the shower and prayed. Later, I continued to pray as I sat in my living room. For the last two days I had experienced feelings of anger, depression, hopelessness and despair unlike anything I had felt in years. Thankfully, however, as I prayed in my living room, all those feelings lifted when all of a sudden my thoughts and feelings were consumed by my sudden awareness of the miraculous nature of consciousness. It wasn’t the first time I had had such thoughts and feelings, nevertheless, it triggered feelings of euphoria that were so beautiful and all-consuming, they continued well into the morning as I made my breakfast and as I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by the simple beauty of an orange. That’s all it took. And just like that, I was suddenly aware that all those negative feelings that had plagued me for the last two days were gone. Later that evening I turned to my guardian angel for counseling.
“You did very well to recognize that your feelings were not your own. However, isn’t it interesting how in spite of the fact that you knew this, you still found it exceptionally difficult to center yourself and find your true feelings? This is a very good experience for you to have had. Because now you know how nefarious and subtle possession and deception at the hand of negative spirit beings can be. And thus, there you have the experience you just went through. And you did very well to get through it. We expected that you would have some difficulty, so please don’t be hard on yourself for falling into the negative influence as you did. The important thing is being back to yourself and your true nature as you are now.”
In the two weeks that followed, a steady stream of strangers showed up in my dreams. For the most part, it was young and middle aged men, however, in one dream I gave a ride to an older man, while in another I had a fight with an angry young man who ended up throwing a beer bottle at my car. At the time, I was giving a policewoman a ride — she had been crying on the side of the road when I met her. Later, however, when the young man threw the beer bottle, the policewoman got out of my car and chased after him. All in all, I couldn’t help but wonder if these were all new cases that were being sent my way. I was certainly aware of how I had been struggling on a daily basis with feelings of hopelessness, uselessness, worthlessness and doubt. And I knew these feelings wouldn’t be there unless I was under the influence of outside sources. The question was, was I really being of help to these souls? I hoped so, but I really had no idea.
In the meantime, I was doing my best to remain upbeat and positive in spite of the fact that although I had been working hard for several years to make changes in my life, the financial side of my life had done nothing but become progressively worse. Throughout the spring, Nola and I had been feeling a strong pull to California — ever since we made a trip there at the end of March (and had experienced an obvious case of angelic intervention). So, by June, we began to publicly state our intention to move, going as far as applying for visa’s and notifying Kaylin’s school that she would not be returning for the next school year. All of this was done with no job prospects, no income, and mounting debt. On June 24th, my guardian angel offered some advice.
“What you must learn to do is accept your life, no matter what state it appears to be in, and be thankful for your life, no matter what state it appears to be in, and enjoy your life to the fullest, no matter what state it appears to be in, and let go of your concerns about the future. Obviously, forward thinking is important in many circumstances otherwise you would never be prepared for the events that are to take place in your life. So, yes, make plans, but accept the outcomes as they happen. In other words, be thankful, be grateful and enjoy your life whether events transpire the way you intend for them to transpire or not.
“Am I telling you something you already know? Have you in fact been living your life this way?
“To be honest, I think you have been struggling to live your life this way although, yes, you are aware that this is your mission. And you have been doing better at living this way than you have ever done before. And yes, you do have financial challenges that make it difficult to continue to live in the manner we suggest without having emotional setbacks. So I am not criticizing your progress when I say you have been struggling. I am simply stating the truth.
“Nevertheless, rest assured, you are on track. But do take care to respect yourself at all times. You have a tendency to malign yourself when things do not go the way you hoped. Other than that, know that we love you and appreciate your struggles, and respect the effort you have been making to be true to yourself and the lessons you have been learning.”
The next day, I woke up feeling great. I had a restful sleep. No strangers showed up in my dreams. I headed for the shower, and let the hot water beat down on my head. As it did, I began to think about the strangers I had met in my dreams throughout the month, and I wondered what the mechanism was by which disembodied souls were able to find me.
Was there a bulletin board in purgatory? And who was able to post there?
Somehow there had to be a mechanism, and given that I was sure there was, why didn’t I reach out to a larger audience? Once upon a time, I had entertained the idea of one day lecturing in front of large audiences. Well, there in the comfort and safety of my shower, I suddenly reconnected to that old vision of mine, only this time, instead of seeing myself lecturing in the 3-D world, I suddenly saw myself lecturing to a hall in purgatory. Why not? I spent a minute imagining how such a lecture would go, and this is what I saw:
As I take the stage, I plan to begin my lecture talking about joy. I move to the center of the stage where a lone microphone waits perched atop a mike stand. The hall is large and the seats are filled with people. But no one makes a sound as I enter or as I lean into the mike and deliver one word — the most joyful and enthusiastic sound I can muster, a great big, loud — “WOOHOO!” The crowd is not sure what to make of me, so I do it again, just as loud and just as enthusiastically as the first one — “WOOHOO!”
The crowd is still unsure, so I start my talk. “How did that make you feel?” I ask. “Did it embarrass you? Did it make you feel uncomfortable in other ways? I am so happy to be here, and when I say “here,” I don’t just mean here on this stage, I mean here — alive, conscious, having this experience of being here. What a miracle life is. Truly. It’s astounding. It’s mind-boggling. And I feel thrilled and excited to be a part of it and to feel what I feel. So excited that, well, I can hardly contain myself.
Are you ready for it again?”
At that, I let loose with one more extra enthusiastic “WOOHOO!” I can see and feel that the crowd is still resisting me.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s all try this together. I’m going to count to three and I would like all of you to give me the biggest most exuberant ‘Woohoo’ you possibly can.”
I hear some groans. A few people get up and leave.
“Are you ready? C’mon, this will be fun, I promise. On the count of three. One…two…three…WOOHOO! There is a trickle of a response.
Oh my God,” I say, “that was absolutely one hundred percent pathetic!” I get a few laughs, and I realize the crowd is loosening up.
“You guys really aren’t feeling all that joyful, I can tell. Well, I know this is not the greatest place to live, but for Pete’s sake, I’m not asking you to sit still while I perform a root canal without anesthesia. I’m asking you to forget all your fears and all your worries and all your anxiety and all your guilt, and all your anger, and all your misery, and all your pain for one little moment. That’s it. Just one little moment. Is that such a hard thing to do? Just give me one moment. One moment of liberation. One moment where you can free yourself from the harsh realities of your world and scream like you have just won a million dollars in a lottery. Okay. A million tax free dollars then. That’s a lot of money, right? Okay, so, we’re going to try this again. Only this time, I’d like you all to stand up and make a little room for yourself. Because, to give a proper joyful scream, you should probably have a little room to express yourself. Okay. Here we go then. On the count of three, I want you to really let me have it — the biggest, freest, most liberating ‘Woohoo’ you can give. Let it all go — all your worries, fears, everything, just let it go and give it to me. On the count of three. Here we go. One…Two…Three…” I listen this time, and they really deliver. “WOOHOO!!!!”
“Oh my God,” I say, “That was awesome! But do you realize how craaaazy you guys looked doing that? I mean, really really crazy! Haha, just kidding. That really was awesome. Well done everyone. How did it feel? Anyone want to do it again?”
Although my vision ended there, I felt good and all things seemed possible. But clearly, if this was a vision of a future possibility, it was soon to become a very distant possibility. Because life had other plans for me.
As for spirit rescues, although I am still open to the possibility of one day doing more, I now know that doing so is not something to be taken lightly. It is far too easy to invite a discarnate being into our energy field, however, once done, it is a much different matter to discern that they are there, let alone assist them in moving on. More often than not, the feelings we experience are so subtle, our first instinct is to believe that we are dealing with our own unresolved emotional issues as opposed to someone else’s. Therefore, spirit rescue is a tricky business — definitely not something to be cavalier about. And definitely not something to be attempted by someone who has unresolved issues — physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual — that a spirit being could easily hide behind.
Believe me, you don’t want to end up with a spirit attachment like I once had. That is truly no fun. No fun at all.