This return to the real, 3D world is harder than I expected. Suddenly, I can’t deal with things the way I used to.
It’s not that people are giving me a hard time for my lapse. According to my husband and the clock, the only time I lost was the hour and a half I waited at the accident site with the victims of that runaway truck, grateful that I had paused before entering the intersection. Dashed to tears when one of the passengers in another car died in my arms.
I remember my missing time differently. I remember what felt like years I spent in that world with my teacher and my friends at the dragonfly’s university. Now I think I died originally. I remember the blood and the pain, but I think I came back to a different reality. That’s why Teacher had been so attentive those last days as I started to remember. He gave me the option to return, and I jumped at it.
There are times when I wonder if I’m going to live to regret it. Then my kids jump into my arms and I remember why I came back. Sometimes, though, when the smile on my face is no more than a ghost, when I’m fighting the sudden tears that come over me. Those moments I wonder what I can do to go back to that perfect place. That’s when I surrender to my waking dreams.
A flock of black birds breaks through the veil ahead of me.
“What seems to be the problem now, my love,” the voice is warm and coats my nerves like honey. It is so familiar. Before I turn I know. It’s my Beloved. The being I considered joining with to leave Teacher’s classroom. If I had, I would have graduated. I think I would not have come back to my kids if I’d done that.
I don’t turn. Not yet. I know I won’t see him with my conscious eyes. He will only be visible through my inner eye, in that magical place between awake and asleep.
He puts a hand on my left shoulder and my neck tingles in the real world.
“Do not fear. I will never leave you.”
And then I realize I’ve been holding back too much. In that world of my third eye, I collapse in tears. In this one, a slow drop makes its way down my face.
“Are you being authentic, my love?” he says, turning my face toward his.
He knows the truth I can’t accept. I collapse into his arms, sobbing on the robe he wears. He strokes my hair and manages to smooth the hurt in my heart. “That is where your pain lies. You must let the pain go.”
“How? How do I make this go away?” I sob.
“Are you living the life you want to live? Are you being honest?”
“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know that? It used to be so easy to accept my life, now I have so much to compare it with.” My words run like a river just released by the lifting of a dam. “Am I expecting too much? Am I living in a fantasy world that can’t possibly be real? I know that change creates butterflies, but what if change is the wrong thing to want?”
“That is only for you to decide.” His voice falters briefly, but I don’t notice until much later.
“I mean, really, what’s waiting for me on the other side of change? I don’t know. I don’t have your ability to look past the possibilities. Can’t you tell me?”
“No, my dear. Loving me does not give you access to the cheat codes to living on Earth. You have to decide for yourself.”
“But, how …”
“All we can do is show you the way. You must look for the clues, the synchronicities, the breadcrumbs that will lead you back home.”
“So I’m alone in this,” I say, throwing up my hands in frustration.
“You are never alone.”
Then a burst of energy jump-starts my heart before his hand lifts from my shoulder and he goes away.
I yearn for those days when my Dragonfly Teacher would make the lesson so definitively clear for me, and yet I know I would have missed living the rest of my years on earth. So I just have to stand straight and move forward, knowing my eternal love is guiding me from the other side of the veil.
Until the next lesson, dear friends, I remain,
The Dragonfly’s Student