Are we ever really alone?

“What do you think happens when we die?” Teacher asks, roaming around the scattered seats in our classroom. “Do we disappear? Poof! Never to be seen again?”

He’s wearing blue jeans today. His tucked-in purple T-shirt makes him look like he’s just one of us.

“Well, I’ve heard it’s beautiful,” Hope says. “I hear we leave our bodies behind and enter this wonderful place where the prevailing feeling is deep, unconditional love.”

Clyde raises his hand and immediately jumps in when Teacher nods toward him. “I hear we become part of Source, like some big Sci-Fi collective of light beings where you can talk to anyone just by thinking of them.”

“Unh, unh,” Irreverent shakes his head and drops down in his seat. “That’s too fucking weird. Let me stay here. I don’t want someone in my head.”

As Irreverent talks, Teacher returns to his desk on his stage.

“And some of you woo-woo guru types started talking about how these beings we call our guardians are really just parts of ourselves. That’s just crap. So in Heaven we’re one of a collective, but here in this 3D experience we’re all alone with the many parts of ourselves? This is bullshit!”

His chair scrapes across the floor when he shoots up out of it.

“Now, Irreverent.” Teacher puts his hand out and it seems to be working to keep our classmate from leaving. “Hear me out.”

Hands clasp behind his back, Teacher strolls around the stage. “I understand how you can feel alone, Irreverent. In this 3D experience, even if you’re part of a huge family, you’re never as bonded as you are back Home. But, don’t be confused. If we want to be alone, all we need to do is disconnect. The phone may ring, but we do not need to pick it up. We are not one massive Borg Collective like in Star Trek. We’re more like an ant farm on 3D Earth. We work together for similar causes, but we can still be alone.”

He skips down the steps and pulls me from my seat. He twirls me in a music-less tango then turns me to face the class, one hand still holding mine, the other still on my hip.

“If I wanted to talk to Writer alone, I would essentially be alone. No one else would be able to tap into our conversation unless one of us invited them.”

Irreverent grumbles and drops back into his seat. I still have questions.

Grabbing his hand from my hip, I twist myself out of his grasp, turning so we’re face-to-face.

“What about that part where we’re alone here? Where we’re only talking to ourselves.”

“You are never alone, dear Writer,” he says in a soft voice. His eyes, clear and a blue so rich it’s like I’m swimming in the Caribbean ocean, lock with mine for a moment that seems like forever.

When he remember we’re not alone, he turns to the class again, “There are parts of you that share this existence with you. You know them in this world as your Id, your Ego and your Super-Ego. The fourth one is simply the part of your Spirit that was born into this physical world. There are four of you living in this one body.”

Groans greet this piece of information, but he waves off the complaints.

“You’ve all heard this before. Freud told you about it. So, it’s real, but he forgot the fourth one.” Teacher skips back up the steps and write the four words on the board, then he draws a purple circle around the word Ego. “This guy wants all the attention, he wants you to succeed, so he’s going to kick a fuss to make sure you don’t forget that.”

He faces us again.

“But that doesn’t answer your question.” He opens his arms wide in one, big hug. “You are never alone. The same beings that are part of our collective, the same ones that have been or will one day be like you in this existence, are concerned with your progress on Earth. They do not leave you alone, even though you seem alone in Earth terms.

“Your guardian is still with you, as are your friends and those who have passed on before you. We watch you like you watch The Kardashians on television, except we can call in and, if you’re listening, we can help you keep from making mistakes.”

He turns to Irreverent. “Is that a little more clear?”

Irreverent shrugs. “Yeah, but what were you going to tell us about the four parts of ourselves?”

 That is for another lesson, dear classmates.

Sincerely,

The Dragonfly’s Student

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