Just my imagination?
I never felt any different from anyone else growing up. I was a normal little girl with a vivid imagination and the normal family issues. I was afraid of the dark and often had vivid dreams but nothing out of the ordinary, really. So I have often wondered about my abilities. Did I use to see spirit and just not remember? Was the ability always there and, somehow, over time, it got explained away as "imagination" or "not real"?
That is what I have been told - that all children are born with the gift of "sight" and over time they are told by adults, who cannot see spirit as a child can, that it is the child's imagination. Over time, the child doubts what they see to the point that they don't see it anymore. Eventually, they are completely shut off from the world of spirit to where it only shows itself in their dreams and in odd occasions of deja vu and instances of shared thoughts.
I remember some instances in my youth where my vivid imagination and dreams seemed a lot more real than suggested by my family. I remember hearing my mother tell me a story about an elderly woman who was attacked by some young, neighborhood boys. They had trapped her on her back porch and then caught her dog, poured gasoline on him and set him on fire right in front of her. When my my told me the story a vivid image popped into my mind, and, like a movie, played out in front of me as she told me the story. I don't remember her giving me the details I saw, but I saw many details. To this day I remember the elderly woman's face and tears as she had to watch her beloved poodle burn to death in front of her. I also felt her sorrow and pain and still can feel remnants of it when I view the "movie" in my mind today. The movie was more real then than now. If that is so, then I know it was more than just my vivid imagination.
I also use to have recurring dreams. In them I would talk to spirits/ghosts and be very afraid when I woke up. In one dream there was a ghost who would come out of my closet and come just close enough to me that I would hide under my covers. Many times I would wake up feeling as if someone was there next to me, but no one would be. Now that I am older and wiser, I know the feelings that I had back then were feelings of the residual energy one feels as they re-enter their body from astral. I am now convinced that I left my body a lot as a child.
It wasn't until recently, around my 30th year, that my mom and older sister shared with me some valuable information. Valuable to me, at least. They told me that when I was really little, around 2 or 3 years old, I had an imaginary friend I would play with. They didn't remember a name but they knew it was a "he" and that I played with him often. They confessed that they made fun of me, telling me he was not real. Over time, he disappeared and was long forgotten by them, and unfortunately, by me.
When I found out about my imaginary friend I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my mother and sister for making fun of what was obviously someone who was real and who I loved. I felt betrayed by myself as well. How could I forget something so important? Where was this memory and why couldn't I find it? I wanted desperately to remember my friend. Deep inside I still feel that his memory holds the key to unlocking my spiritual ability and maybe even will open the door to more secrets hidden deep inside me, secrets about myself and why I am like I am.
Something I never told my mom or really anyone other than my husband and my personal journal is that when I first met Steven he would often say to me offhand, "Do you not remember me?" Every time I would say, "No, of course not!" and he would smirk or chuckle. It was exasperating! I tried hard to find a memory of him, but I couldn't. I had just met him and had never known him before.
I remember the first time I ever saw Steven in person, or as close as I have come to it. I was deep in meditation and found myself leaving my body. I remember feeling the warmth of skin next to mine and hands around my waist. I felt comfortable and loved. The realization that I was being touched, though, brought with it a question. Who was touching me? When I turned around I was face to face with the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He was short, maybe only a couple of inches taller than me and I am 5'6". His hair was jet black and shoulder length and braided into what seemed like a million teeny tiny braids perhaps only a couple of millimeters wide. His eyes were deep brown and his complexion was that of someone from Greece, a beautiful olive color. He was wearing only pants and they were a cotton material and tied with a light colored belt, again of a cotton material. He smiled and his eyes glinted as he said to me in a booming and very clear voice, "Do you not remember me?" I was shocked to hear his voice and elated that I was getting to meet him, my Steven, up close and personal. My excitement got the better of me and I wanted so much to ask him questions and sit and talk. But then Steven smiled and I heard a deep chuckle as I felt myself being pulled away and back into my body. As I left my vision grew dark and the last image I had was of Steven standing there in what seemed like a glowing light, smiling.
That experience will forever stay with me, and though I have other encounters with Steven of a similar magnitude, they are few and far between and I long to remember him as he seems to think I should. And I wonder, is Steven my long forgotten imaginary friend from childhood? If so, how can I get back those memories of him? I miss them.
That is what I have been told - that all children are born with the gift of "sight" and over time they are told by adults, who cannot see spirit as a child can, that it is the child's imagination. Over time, the child doubts what they see to the point that they don't see it anymore. Eventually, they are completely shut off from the world of spirit to where it only shows itself in their dreams and in odd occasions of deja vu and instances of shared thoughts.
I remember some instances in my youth where my vivid imagination and dreams seemed a lot more real than suggested by my family. I remember hearing my mother tell me a story about an elderly woman who was attacked by some young, neighborhood boys. They had trapped her on her back porch and then caught her dog, poured gasoline on him and set him on fire right in front of her. When my my told me the story a vivid image popped into my mind, and, like a movie, played out in front of me as she told me the story. I don't remember her giving me the details I saw, but I saw many details. To this day I remember the elderly woman's face and tears as she had to watch her beloved poodle burn to death in front of her. I also felt her sorrow and pain and still can feel remnants of it when I view the "movie" in my mind today. The movie was more real then than now. If that is so, then I know it was more than just my vivid imagination.
I also use to have recurring dreams. In them I would talk to spirits/ghosts and be very afraid when I woke up. In one dream there was a ghost who would come out of my closet and come just close enough to me that I would hide under my covers. Many times I would wake up feeling as if someone was there next to me, but no one would be. Now that I am older and wiser, I know the feelings that I had back then were feelings of the residual energy one feels as they re-enter their body from astral. I am now convinced that I left my body a lot as a child.
It wasn't until recently, around my 30th year, that my mom and older sister shared with me some valuable information. Valuable to me, at least. They told me that when I was really little, around 2 or 3 years old, I had an imaginary friend I would play with. They didn't remember a name but they knew it was a "he" and that I played with him often. They confessed that they made fun of me, telling me he was not real. Over time, he disappeared and was long forgotten by them, and unfortunately, by me.
When I found out about my imaginary friend I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my mother and sister for making fun of what was obviously someone who was real and who I loved. I felt betrayed by myself as well. How could I forget something so important? Where was this memory and why couldn't I find it? I wanted desperately to remember my friend. Deep inside I still feel that his memory holds the key to unlocking my spiritual ability and maybe even will open the door to more secrets hidden deep inside me, secrets about myself and why I am like I am.
Something I never told my mom or really anyone other than my husband and my personal journal is that when I first met Steven he would often say to me offhand, "Do you not remember me?" Every time I would say, "No, of course not!" and he would smirk or chuckle. It was exasperating! I tried hard to find a memory of him, but I couldn't. I had just met him and had never known him before.
I remember the first time I ever saw Steven in person, or as close as I have come to it. I was deep in meditation and found myself leaving my body. I remember feeling the warmth of skin next to mine and hands around my waist. I felt comfortable and loved. The realization that I was being touched, though, brought with it a question. Who was touching me? When I turned around I was face to face with the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He was short, maybe only a couple of inches taller than me and I am 5'6". His hair was jet black and shoulder length and braided into what seemed like a million teeny tiny braids perhaps only a couple of millimeters wide. His eyes were deep brown and his complexion was that of someone from Greece, a beautiful olive color. He was wearing only pants and they were a cotton material and tied with a light colored belt, again of a cotton material. He smiled and his eyes glinted as he said to me in a booming and very clear voice, "Do you not remember me?" I was shocked to hear his voice and elated that I was getting to meet him, my Steven, up close and personal. My excitement got the better of me and I wanted so much to ask him questions and sit and talk. But then Steven smiled and I heard a deep chuckle as I felt myself being pulled away and back into my body. As I left my vision grew dark and the last image I had was of Steven standing there in what seemed like a glowing light, smiling.
That experience will forever stay with me, and though I have other encounters with Steven of a similar magnitude, they are few and far between and I long to remember him as he seems to think I should. And I wonder, is Steven my long forgotten imaginary friend from childhood? If so, how can I get back those memories of him? I miss them.
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