The Spiritual eye…Opening the right door

I’m standing inside a perfectly square pale grey room.

There are no windows.  No lights.  Yet its bright enough to see.

Behind me is a creaky old oak door.
Under it I see a sliver of golden light.
I hear slightly muffled noises coming from behind it.
In front of me is a metal door, with ice blue window panelling…I can see shadows moving on the other side…but I can’t hear anything, or see a light.
I turn towards the warm invite of the solid oak door and I push it open.
On the other side, I am greeted by dozens of familiar faces; they are all so happy to see me —
their smiles are bright,
they invite me inside
to sit awhile,
they say don’t fight.
Each command accompanied by a smile.
I breathe a huge sigh It’s good to be home. I’m offered some bread. I take a bite. I can’t taste anything but it must be alright because I take another bite and then another. I look up and see my lover, his eyes…they are empty, black and inky. My last bite sticks in my throat, I cough and try to mouth water the room has

A rusty chain at a door lock of an old door. D...

A rusty chain at a door lock of an old door. Dordogne, France. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

gone quiet, no more smiles I notice the eyes…dark empty pound sized eyes. I get up and back towards the door. Cries of “don’t go yet! stay awhile!” emerges from their lungs.
My core is iced over I can’t get warm. I stumble through the doorway and instantly I mourn.
The room isn’t very big, in fact it’s more of a short hallway. Four of me stand across the width and eight of me hands outstretched reach along the length. But the more I walk the longer it seems to get. My mind begins to hallucinate I feel like I’m climbing hills, crossing rivers, fighting dragons, and battling demons. My back feels like a million wild animals have had a go. But I’m numb. I’m mourning. I just want to get away…forget.
Finally I reach the other side I’m about to jiggle the lock. Theres a noise behind me a God awful noise behind me!
Kinda like the gates of hell are opening and the screams of all those who are about to be or are being tortured have joined voices in the worst ever choral rendition of death?
I grab the door and push. Nothing happens. I grab the door and pull….Still… Nothing happens.
A pain that can only be described as five childbirths and 35 yrs of really bad periods hits me in the stomach; I crumble to my feet and scream his name “Jeeesuuus!”. But it’s too late I’m sure it’s too late. I’m holding my belly and there’s this thing, when did I become pregnant I don’t remember this. The contractions are fast and strong the pain intense I feel the blood begin to flow and I know This can’t be mine.  This has to be in my mind. I pull at the door and I plead for my life. I say I’m sorry for this. Forgive me for that. I confess I did this I confess I did that. I beg I plead I feel the pain leave. I cry. I open my eyes and I’m on the other side. My hair is wrapped up and I’m dressed in white. He says go on. out there my child. share with them your story of the way the truth and the light. I say but I don’t have the words, the knowledge the know how. He says listen to your teachers when they say worrying is not right. I’ve had you in my hands before the twinkle in mans eye. So I walk to the point he guided me too. I look through the door and see a platform…then you….



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