The Visitor

Several times, after a medical procedure requiring anesthesiology, I have visions. They are probably a combination of Parkinson’s and drug aftermath. On 7/14/15 I posted a poem (Vision) in which I attempted to describe the experience. This time, after my back surgery, I do so in pros.

A faceless diaphanous form stood in the doorway to my room. I lay in bed unafraid, absorbing the way that everything moved in unison. Light from a full moon streamed in through the window.  It cast shadows across the floor; to dance in tune with the essence of the figure in the doorway. As I watched I realized that the presence had no body; that it was a thing comprised solely of sheer drapery, so light, so white, so ethereal that it billowed and swirled. My guest neither advanced nor retreated. I watched, letting nocturnal silence wrap both of us in its arms. Even as I absorbed the peace of the night I became vaguely aware of the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in another room. At times, my visitor raised a long arm and gave a beckoning movement. I contemplated responding to this gesture but just as I was about to rise from my bed a cloud passed across the moon, the room darkened and the clock struck two. I reached out and grabbed a flash light. I flicked it on for I now wished to see my visitor’s face. Instantly the form vanished, in its stead I saw a white door frame.

I turned off the light and dozed off. I awoke when the clock chimed three. My visitor was back but this time a wolf-like face with piercing eyes gazed at me. This bodiless head was so close that I quivered in expectation. I wondered whether the long snout would open for me to see a row of fangs or to allow a long tongue to emerge and lick me. All the while the piercing cold eyes held mine in a fathomless stare which seemed to invite union. I shivered and pulled my comforter up over my shoulders. My movement disturbed my visitor. The head dissolved and I realized that it was an illusion made up of a garment flung over the handlebar of my walker beside my bed.

Sleep eluded me as I contemplated the simple explanations to my visions. I lay on my back with my eyes open looking into the moonlit shadows above me.  I still heard the distant clock ticking the passage of time; its regularity and normalcy reassured me.  After a while I noticed that the air was limpid and teemed with swirls of living light. This time I craved contact and reached upward. One of the swirls wound itself around my hand. A surge of recognition and joy pulsated through my frame. I instantly knew that this thing was my recently deceased friend, Amanda. She conveyed content and happiness as she urged union. I continued to reach upward and experienced a wave of light-headedness mingled with elation. Suddenly the moment was eclipsed by a loud crash and flash of lightning. For a moment, I wondered if this was how one transitioned into the spiritual world but the sound of rain upon the roof brought me back to my world. The rainstorm soothed and I slept.



11 thoughts on “The Visitor

  1. Fascinating! I had to be anaesthetised a couple of weeks ago, but I did not feel or experience any sensation, apart from a very vague recollection of reawakening. No dreams, no visions.

  2. I am sending you healing energy Jane. I also do not doubt that in your heightened energy state, Amanda was able to cross realms and reach out to you. Sometimes it is spirit we see, sometimes energy and sometimes our own fears. It’s all energy. Hugs for you. xXx ❤

  3. I agree with Ian. That wolf-like face would have prompted me to throw a punch and roll out of bed, all in one go – if I had full control of my faculties.

    Until 17 years ago, I was a Buddhist – Tibetan strand – and your friend Amanda’s appearance is probably closer to reality. At least, that’s what I believed then – and now.

    • Odd isn’t it? The poem which I wrote only refers to the swirling things in limpid air as described in the third paragraph , as this is all I saw that time. Yes the wolf-like face was gruesome but I was too mesmerized to pull a punch.

  4. It might have except it has happened before and when it happens I am still aware enough to decode what I see. Or maybe it is OK because I’m in bed and in a drowsy state between awake and dreams.

    • Actually I felt calm – although I fill with fear in recollection, and ask my self, what would have happened if I had followed the beckon? Would I have bumped into a door or ended up in some other realm?

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