My First Encounters Between the Realms

It might have been my first angel encounter, but I cannot be sure of it. I was so young it still feels like a dream. Maybe it was disassociation? Maybe it was an encounter while disassociating. I was very young, and it was during my trauma. (Disassociation is a guess on my part) 🤔

I can only vaguely remember a pure white figure with wings. Mainly the wings were all I focused on. I felt as if those wings cocooned me. Wherever I was, it felt safe and that is the whole of that first memory.

I am unsure if that angel was a regular visitor during those traumatic times in those early years. That has remained absent in my memories.

The home I grew up in was a three-bedroom ranch. The garage had yet to be renovated and converted into another bedroom and dining area. I had my own room, and the boys shared one.

I could lay in the threshold of the doorway of my room and look left down the hall and behind the couch adjacent to the wall that spanned from my room to the kitchen entrance. (If I close my eyes and think back, I can still picture it to this day)

Taking my pillow and blanket I would often, in the middle of the night lay in my doorway. I don`t remember being scared, more wonderment as I peered between the realms of here and there. This may sound unbelievable, but it is my truth.

What I find unbelievable is that I am sharing these things openly now. To say I have no fear would be a lie. As an adult who has lived nearly sixty years, I know how it sounds to hear of these happenings. And I am opening myself up to exploring what it is I have been experiencing my whole life. MY WHOLE LIFE.

Back to when I was young and laying in the doorway of my room.

I would see small indigenous figures no more than three feet tall. Most if not all with spears, arrowheads pointing to the sky. They came from the kitchen through the living room, down the hall, past me and vanish into my parents’ bedroom. They penetrated the closed door with ease. This happened more than once. The memory feels as if it was a regular occurrence in my mind.

Not once do I remember making eye contact with them or them with me. It was as if I was not there. Funny, now that I think about it. For they were the invisible ones. This was only in my early years. I`d say under eight years old.

As I grew, I would often wonder if our neighborhood was built on a long forgotten burial site. Maybe these people though small in stature once inhabited the land where my parents’ home was built.

I bought a home up the road from the house I grew up in and never felt a presence of any kind like those of my childhood. I guess that is why I tried to dismiss those visions as an overactive child`s imagination.

The last of those earlier times and most feared was an entity I could not see. He and I knew it to be he, was not felt by me until I moved into the garage bedroom. I was older and the room vacated by my oldest brother who had moved out and on to adulthood.

This entity dwelled by the backdoor of the dining area. I walked through the dining area to reach the entrance of my preteen and teenage bedroom. I feared that entity I never saw but felt his presence every day. He loitered there by the backdoor.

That is when I became afraid of the dark. My early bedroom was across from the bathroom. There was always the medicine cabinet light that stayed on. So, I guess I had grown used to having some light shine into my room. My new room was pitched black, and I felt the weight of that darkness.

When I left home at 15 until the year 2021 0r 22, I hated being in that house. I would go and take care of my mom, do what needed to be done and leave. In 2021-22 my oldest brother was visiting, and Bill was living in the family home. That is the first time the three of us kids all spent the night together, under that roof since 1979.

That is when, I no longer feared that home. Whatever entity was there had finally moved on, crossed over or stopped existing. It may have left years before; I am unsure because I choose to never stay long in that house. I showed up there when called upon and that is it.

Was it a manifestation of my trauma? Was he the evil that drove my father to do what he did? Was he the manifestation of their combined troubles? (parents)

I do not understand the metaphysical world. I was taught such ventures into understanding such, were considered the devil’s work. And I was not into tempting my fate by exploring what it was I saw and felt.

I kept so much bottled inside. Yet as far back as I can think- that when my thoughts had first begun, I conversed with God. (love source) Not that I saw him, nor heard him speak back. I talked to the man in the sky. To love me. To save me. To protect me and forgive me. I asked for others too.

Maybe it was my teachings. That God lived in the sky. He would judge me, punish me and damn me for all eternity if I spoke out at what I had seen.

My oldest brother was an altar boy and went to catholic school from kindergarten until high school. I would stare at him as he sat on the alter next to the priests, next to God. Maybe as a child I felt I could speak to God because my brother sat so close to him.

Bill and I went to public school. I am sure it was not financially feasible to have three in Catholic school. Besides women were not excepted yet into any other role than secretarial duties. Yes, there were nuns. But they did not preach on Sundays. They taught in school.

Those first encounters and all the ones that have followed, shaped me. I have learned to listen, to heed warnings, to trust how I feel. I give thought to my days and my activities, but it is in how I feel that determines my path.

If I get a sick feeling when I am somewhere, or uneasy feeling. I become hypervigilant. I am super sensitive to how a room feels to me. I`m empathic.

Now to share something I do not believe I have uttered fully to anyone. I feel I am a very old soul.

I think I will save the reasons why I feel this for another time, and another story to share.

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I am exploring the part of me I have tried to shut down, keep hidden and have yet to embrace fully. I hope not to lose anyone when those stories arise. But like anytime in life; not everyone is meant to stay. Some come in/out of our lives. Some appear briefly and those that are meant to walk the path with you.

Trusting my journey and my place in it. ✨Be the Light