Intro from Shelley:
Part of our journey while we’re here on Earth is to be of service to others. At some point in our lives a profound spiritual awakening may take place. There’s a story in each one of us that has us opening up to the possibility of a Greater Power’s existence.
Suzanne Paschall, my editor/publisher and author of The Pink Notebook Project, recently shared with me a life altering, soul awakening event, and I asked her if she would put pen to paper to also share the story with you. The next two blog postings will help us open up to the beautiful reality of how God works. The Creator lovingly sends signs to us in our darkest moments. We are being guided and encouraged to stay on the path of life which will give us the most soulful growth.
I would like to thank Suzanne for sharing her Divine experience, A Brief Chat with Jesus. I know these posts will open up a much-needed connection for some of my readers. I also want to invite you to share a piece of your story. You can do so through the Your Stories tab on my website. It is through sharing parts of our life’s journey we aid in healing ourselves and each other. We are all here to grow in love and compassion. We are all teacher and student in this miraculous incarnation.
Ask, Listen and be Watchful,
A Brief Chat with Jesus (Part I)
I’ve always been a dreamer. I mean that literally. I’m what’s referred to in dream literature as a recaller, meaning I often remember quite a lot of detail about many dreams, long after I have them. Over the years I’ve collected books on dream research, and at one point in my life tried to practice lucid dreaming.
My dreams have been prescient (foretelling); recurring or, as I now understand, direct connections with other figures, like what I believe happened to me when I had the same dream every Good Friday night for three years in a row.
My relationship with God, or my Higher Power, has been nebulous all my life. Though I was raised in the Lutheran faith, with the support of a fine preacher who shepherded me through Catechism, I fell away from the Church later in life for some very specific reasons. Over time, I felt like the only “higher power” I could rely on was me, and wow, I worked that martyrdom hard for a few decades.
I don’t recall what exactly was happening in my life when the recurring Jesus dream started some 15 years ago, or when it stopped recurring a few years later. But the details of it have never left me, and have left me with unanswered questions.
The dream begins with me walking on a narrow dirt path that winds along the edge of a very high cliff. Beyond the cliff to my right I can see a massive expanse of ocean. The horizon is dark and changing, a storm is brewing. But I don’t feel any sense of temperature, of cold or heat. I know I am dreaming. I don’t feel any emotions, except a little curiosity as I advance slowly on this path, taking care not to trip on the occasional stones that appear in the path.
To the left of the path is a wide thatch of wild meadow. The growth is patchy and scraggly; it’s not a tended crop field; nor a garden. The area seems deserted, and there is a forest off in the extreme distance left and forward.
I feel the wind pick up, freshen off the ocean, and now I do feel temperature—a tinge of cool, moist air—as I approach a bend in the path that slowly rises up. I round the corner, and my tread become uncontrollably leaden. It’s as if I’m being compelled by some greater force to slow my steps. I climb up the rise and a figure slowly comes into view.
It’s a man sitting quietly on a rock on a small plateau at the cliff’s edge. There are numerous boulder-like stones strewn at this spot. The man is sitting calmly, clearly waiting for someone to approach. I assume it’s me, because I’m the only other person here. I approach him very slowly, and more details come into view. He’s wearing a long white robe, with a rope belt tied casually at his side. He has long brown wavy hair. His hands are in his lap. He’s facing away from the ocean, looking directly at me. He is neither smiling nor scowling. His face is completely passive, expressionless, except for his brown eyes that look blandly at me. He is otherwise as motionless as a statue.
He doesn’t speak, but seems to be waiting for me to ask a question. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. However, I have no idea what is the question I’m supposed to ask.
I stop in front of him, perhaps a foot away. We look at each other. For some reason, I reach out with my hand to touch his lips. (I have no idea why I do this.) His reaction is strange, and becomes the first of my questions that I have after the dream. He moves his hand up quickly to push my hand away. His face doesn’t change, but it clearly appears to be a gesture of rebuff.
I feel confusion bloom on my face, but I can’t speak. Then he does, and he says, quite clearly but without emotion, “You cannot discern the lips of an angel.”
It reverberates inside me, repeating and repeating. I continue to look at him. I glance over at the ocean, at the approaching weather, and wonder why I’m here, and what I’m supposed to be learning. I feel quite strongly that he is Jesus, and that this is a lesson. That I’ve been brought to this precipice for a reason, and that unlike a dream, this appears to be a direct communication with this figure, executed through a sleep-state. Again, I don’t know how I know this, but I most emphatically do. I have years and years of attentive dream experience to compare this to, and this encounter stands unique.
This is where the dream-state experience ends, and I wake up. I then experience this again on the next Good Friday and I have this dream for several years—on this night and only on this night.
I never forget it, it never changes…and I never figure out the central questions that stay with me to this day.
(Continued in Part II – Unanswered Questions)