My Story

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Ever since I was a child, I was given spiritual lessons that didn‘t always render the wisdom to me at the time it happened, and in some cases, wasn’t recognized until later in life. The universe works that way you know, everything in perfect timing. Looking back at a dream that I had at four years old is a prime example of such an event for I did not see the significance of the content until years later when I was able to clear the emotional issue that spurred the dream to begin with. In the dream, I ran away from home fearing the worse because of an act that I did that my mother would of surely severely punished me for doing. While in the woods, I got lost and could not find my way home. As I leaned against a tree to rest and to finally take a moment and enjoy the nature around me, I could hear voices in the distant calling my name. Among them was my mother’s voice ridden with fear and desperation as she shouted out for me. Saddened that I had put my mother into this place of anguish, I crawled out from behind the tree I was hiding only to see my mother reaching for my limp, lifeless body laying dead on the forest floor. She screamed in horror holding my body tight to her chest, with uncontrollable cries of sorrow. The key to the dream is that I was an angel and as this angel, a valuable life lesson was revealed. I had form and shape. I could see all that was happening, hear all that was happening and even feel everything I was touching, but no one could see me. I watched my mother embracing my lifeless body as the tears of her loss streamed down her checks. I could feel each tear fill my heart with unconditional love and compassion for her and knew then that despite her unhealthy parenting methods she loved me with all her heart. In that dream the lesson was clear. Retaliating with the same behavior that she had imposed on me was not the way to be. I was to instead, love her and forgive her, for she did not know what she was doing. She was a product of her environment and a prisoner of what she had been conditioned and taught to be truth. She hadn’t look within yet for the real truths in life. And I, I was just a baby destined to meet other challenges and lessons in life before I gained the gift of truth embedded in this insightful dream.

At the age of six, I witnessed my first “real” ghost. We lived in the out skirts of town in a very small, modest house at the end of a dead end road right next to a railroad track that was still in use. At that time, South Carolina was rich in old plantations long abandoned by their wealthy owners and occupants. With deep roots of slavery and memories of those who lost their lives for the belief in a cause of war’s past, the air of prejudice still influenced many peoples minds keeping the idea of segregation alive, thus forcing the black population to live in neighborhoods located in the less than desirable areas of town. The house we lived in was located in once such neighborhood. On the other side of the railroad tracks, there was an old weathered church. Long ago, it was once filled every Sunday with the locals raising their lively voices in song and praise to “the almighty god” as they listened to their evangelistic pasture preach the biblical scriptures. Now, aged by time, it was meeting it’s inevitable end, just as promised in the scriptures: dust to dust, ashes to ashes and earth to earth. Since poverty was prevalent after the civil war ended, especially with those who were subjected to slavery, any family that was fortunate to buy their home, passed it on from generation to generation. It was from these people that kept the events and memories of their ancestor’s alive that gave me the answer to this mystical event.

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