Through the Mist of Memory
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All the numinous events hidden safely from ridicule, criticism, and disbelief bubbled up from deep in my heart when my childhood friend died in 1985. The voices, visions, sighting, and apparitions throughout my life clamored acknowledgement. Gossamer threads anchored to my life fabric at various points in my life told vignettes of mysteries about which I wondered. After he started school, he changed from a happy little boy to one depressed and afraid. Though I asked, he would not tell me what happened, only snippets plus a warning to me before I started school. He was particularly afraid to go...
All the numinous events hidden safely from ridicule, criticism, and disbelief bubbled up from deep in my heart when my childhood friend died in 1985. The voices, visions, sighting, and apparitions throughout my life clamored acknowledgement. Gossamer threads anchored to my life fabric at various points in my life told vignettes of mysteries about which I wondered. After he started school, he changed from a happy little boy to one depressed and afraid. Though I asked, he would not tell me what happened, only snippets plus a warning to me before I started school. He was particularly afraid to go to the outhouse alone because of a phantom. We had appendectomies within a week in 1947 and spent five days in the hospital together. He was in the children's ward and I in the women's ward. The epiphany after Johnny's death was the most wonderful and horrendous event of my life. It answered questions for which I needed answers plus information I did not contemplate. When his spirit came to me, explained and verified his words and actions in childhood, it was apparent all I had been a witness to needed to be revealed. The mysteries disclosed must be open to others. Just as I needed more information, some other soul may need the information I can offer. This is my purpose.
