Paranormal Summer (Indigo Moon Rising) (4 page)

"Your Grandma Hilde was right wasn't she?" Jillian said helping her sit up.

"Why do you say that?" Sonya said breathing a heavy sigh.

"I know what you saw. You were a man in sandals. It was hot, and the buildings were open. You were bald and had earrings."

"I wore a skirt and a head dress and lots of jewelry. Oh my God, you saw that too? I
was
a healer. It was intensely spiritual. I was looked up to, respected. There were a lot of secrets though. But not bad ones, it was like not everybody should know these things because they would abuse the power they would gain from them. There were terrible people, and they would use the information for political and religious reasons, for control. I couldn't share the incredible things I knew. So much responsibility. I didn't have any family. I was born and raised in isolation. It was remarkably quiet, and we all respected each other and everything around us. It was like I was trained or initiated to be a healer; it was my purpose in life. I didn't feel alone because I knew I was connected to the universe. Then I had to die with the secrets. I saw my body, lifeless and cold, laying there, arms folded across my chest. Just an old body. Not truly
me
.

There were people mourning me. We are so much more than what we see with our eyes. We accepted and knew that all of the teachings were linked somehow. And as long as they helped others, and the greatness in every individual was respected we were on the same path. To help another is to help myself. Going inward for the answers, in the silence...You will hear the answers if you listen. The things that you think make you different actually are what you have in common. All of our senses are present in the physical body for a reason. Once you feel comfortable in understanding how it works, you learn to look inward where all of the answers of the universe lie. "

Sonya was staring at the grass and at her hands. She looked up to the sky and the clouds. She began to smile and tears filled her eyes. "But I have always felt so alone." She sighed heavily. "The world is preparing itself for the shift. I am the shift." She closed her eyes. Lucky got up and stood on his hind leg, putting his paws on her shoulder as if he understood and was giving her a hug.

Was what she just experienced connected to the strange dreams she had been having for years? She had never told anyone about the things she saw, afraid of what people would think about her. This was one of her secrets.

Sonya's phone went off. Pulling it out of her back pocket she looked at it. "Grandma Hilde needs me. It's like the only thing that comes through my phone, "she said scowling.

Not sure if she should ask this, but Jillian asked anyways, "My family is throwing a birthday party for me tomorrow afternoon if you want to come."

"I will have to see what Grandma Hilde has planned; we have 6 guests right now. I'll message you tonight." Sonya said as she picked up Lucky and walked away.

She's gotta be hot
Jillian thought, watching Sonya, dressed in black jeans and a long sleeved shirt with slits held together with safety pins.
I love her hair. Huh, this time she has hair! That was amazing. She was a healer. And I saw the whole thing. How does it work? We were here in the meadow, and we both saw the past. Do the past, present and future all occur simultaneously? Do they all share the same space? What is space? Is it true that God is in the physical and nonphysical? That nonphysical would be space right? That is anti-matter?
Jillian shook her head and rolled her eyes.
What gets into me? Am I crazy for having all of these thoughts?

Walking from the meadow and through the woods, Jillian saw Aunt Jana's house from a half a mile away. Old, neat and not even creepy. Actually it was quite beautiful as Jillian started noticing all of the old aristocratic architecture. A large wrap around porch with stained glass at the tops of the large glass windows. The wooden doors were enormous with doorknobs chest high. The foundation was made of rocks that had been excavated from this land. The hardwood floors, doorways and windowsills were from timber cut on this property. How many secrets did the walls know? Could there be hidden rooms and staircases? Skeletons in the closets? The people that built it were buried in the family cemetery on the hill out back. They used to prepare the deceased at their house for mourning...How many coffins with corpses had been in the 'living room?' Was there still any hanging around? There had been times over the years that Jillian felt as if someone was watching her, it wasn't a creepy feeling, but she knew she wasn't alone.

No car in the driveway means I will be home alone.
As Jillian walked into the kitchen she felt warm, bright, comfortable and at peace. This room was magnificent. Everything was white, or had been whitewashed except for the rectangular wooden table that seated 12. A few splashes of color, large brown eyed sunflowers in a tall clear vase, their stems wrapped in an aqua satin ribbon, a large ivory bowl on the table filled with green apples, bananas and fresh strawberries.

Jillian grabbed a plate, spoon and knife from the cupboards and found a jar of homemade peanut butter and stirred it well. She sat down at the table and cut the apple and bananas into slices and removed the tops from some strawberries. She plopped a glop of peanut butter on the plate and ate her dinner. She kept getting the feeling that someone was watching her. But every time she looked around, she was alone. Finally, she thought she had it narrowed down, that there was someone or something staring at her from the apothecary door. It led to the greenhouse and out to the gardens. Had someone gotten in? But with all of the glass and reflections, she would have seen something more. When she was done eating she took the remains out to the compost, watching every nook and cranny of where she was walking, then returned to the kitchen and washed the plate and silverware. It was as if she hadn't even been there.

As she walked down the long hallway that led to her new bedroom she began to study the pictures that lined the walls. There were extremely old photographs, with serious weathered faces, in large thick frames and some with convex glass. Some were from the old country, just like yesterday at your fingertips.
How many years of our roots are right here? How many secrets?

It was almost like a museum, so much to look at. Her aunt had been so many places and done so many things. There were drawings in ink, chalk and watercolors. Every item on the wall was matted, framed, labeled and dated with precision. There were phenomenal photographs of bugs, birds and butterflies, along with flowers and trees. Some were so close you could see the tiniest details. A dragonfly smiling, the feathery antennae of a moth, and the tiny suction cup toes of a frog stuck to the lens.

Sometimes when she looked at them she could find things that she had not seen before. One time when she was visiting, she asked her aunt, “How does that happen?”

With a kind smile her aunt said, “I think it depends on what you are looking at, or looking for. It depends on what you are focusing on at the time. When you are focusing on something, looking for more, you will find it."

Just like the cards she had all over the house. Beautiful little cards with frames on them. Motivational, thought provoking sayings at the kitchen sink, refrigerator, breakfast nook, her bathroom mirror, ALL over the house. They actually were quite beautiful. Some were quotes from famous people. They were all there to inspire good feelings. You were supposed to read them, letting your feelings set your vibrational tone.

As she walked she noticed the door to the library was open. It was a magnificent room. It had a massive stone fireplace on the inner wall and across it was a large bay window with cushions. By day you could lay there and read in the sunshine, and by night sit by the fireplace on the fainting couch. The shelves were lined with hundreds of books, and the newest addition to the room was devoted to audio recordings.

There was a black shiny piano off to the side, but neither Aunt Jana nor Uncle Tim played it. S
o why was it here?
Probably just for decoration.

"So how was your day?" She heard Aunt Jana say from the end of the hall and walking towards her. "How are you getting along with your new friends?"

“O
key, there isn't much to do around here. I invited Sonya to the party tomorrow. I guess I should have asked first huh?"

"That's fine, it's your birthday!" She said kissing her on the forehead. "Do you need anything?"

Jillian wanted to say "YES YES I need answers. I don't want you to know what I did last night, but I do want to know what happened to me... Why I felt so horribly lost, or how Sonya fixed my ankle, or how we both saw the same thing in our heads today...Am I crazy?" But all that came out of her mouth was, "No, I'm OK. Goodnight." She said as she walked to her door and opened it. She 'felt' something was up, something she had no control of.

She got her pajamas on and looked out the window. In the silence of her room she felt so tiny, like a speck, but it was as if the whole universe was available to her. But why didn't she feel loved, or that she ever fit in, anywhere? She wanted to know that SHE made a difference, and that she wasn't a joke, an outcast, a mistake. Sometimes the feelings were overwhelming, the anger, the jealousy, the fear, the loneliness, the sadness.
Is this what they call bipolar
?
Why do I constantly feel like I am on a roller coaster, and I am riding so fast I can't see the next curve or the drop?

She checked her phone for texts, none, of course not. She sat down on her bed and turned her tablet on, signed into Facebook. No messages, no posts. Her heart sank. Loneliness. Again.

As she cried herself to sleep, the stars were in perfect alignment. Her guides and angels watched patiently for their calling. She was preparing for a shift in space and time. From outside her window the crickets sang her a lullaby and she drifted into another reality, one of dreams where you are never quite sure if you are awake or asleep, and don't remember to ask.

Mornings usually were not the best time for Jillian. Knowing that she dreamed, but couldn't remember what; was frustrating. It made her angry.
I should at least enjoy myself there,
she thought.
At least I don't have nightmares.
What would I have nightmares about? Vampires or colossal spiders injecting me with paralyzing venom and wrapping me up in a cocoon for a late night snack? What about Zombies? How stupid.

She walked into the kitchen at noon. Aunt Jana and Tim were in the backyard setting up the picnic table with bright colored table clothes and party ware. Uncle Tim was firing up the grill for the party. It's a wonder he had any eyebrows left after the last cookout at Easter. Jillian would have to check them later today.

Uncle Tim and her dad were brothers. Gramma and Grandpa Hughes had adopted them when they were little boys, about a hundred years ago. Uncle Tim would sometimes get teary when he talked about how blessed they were to have had such tremendously caring parents. They were taught morals, ethics, respect and kindness from Gramma Hughs. How to provide for the family and make a living was what Grampa Hughs tried to teach them. Long days and a lot of hard work seemed to have paid off. They had been raised on the farm, and it must have been difficult, but Jillian thought
she
had the toughest life of all!

It seemed like all her parents cared about was that she always acted responsibly and do the right thing
.
Don’t they realize that kids can’t always remember everything, be responsible ALL the time and always make the right choices? They said that their role as parents was to teach her how to be honest and responsible. That is how they show their love.