I think one of the scariest things when one is sensitive to other people, to the Other world, to the things unseen, is being able to feel and not being able to explain those sensations.
People look at you, like you’re crazy. Like you’re making this whole thing up. You have no one to talk to. Especially your family. Describing what I feel or what Ive been through is crazy. But I am know I am not crazy.
I was pretty tired last night, I crashed hard.
But before I fell asleep, I was missing my cat. Silly isnt it?
But I miss my boy, Buddy. I was telling him he would love how comfy my bed was, and if he was lonely he could come and sleep in my bed anytime he wanted. Dont forget to look after Buttons and OJ. (the kittens he was raised with died before he did)
I wasnt out but a few moments when I started out to feel this strange presence in my room. But I was too tired, to open my eyes, to see what was going on.
I was too tired to be scared.
This presence wasnt unfamiliar I had felt before. It was usually a forewarning of someone’s death, or a vision.
I always felt the person’s death. Felt it. Literally.
I was in that person’s body, but could never see who it was. I could see how I was dying, (sometimes it was a murder) but as I was taking the last breath is how I would wake up.
It was so scary.
Imagine my relief when that presence went away awhile ago. I thought it was gone. That somehow this presence was gone, and the visions were gone.
Not last night.
I just laid there, hoping it would go away. Leave me alone. Leave me in peace.
I then felt it. A hand on my shoulder. Pressing hard. Just as soon as I felt it was gone. I woke up, startled.
There was no ominous sense of doom, or overwhelming sense of death lingering. Just the squeeze of a hand.
Perhaps it was my spiritual guide giving me reassurance. That Buddy was ok.