I Had A Dream

I had a dream

Copyright © 2019 by Catherine Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-1836-6 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-1835-9 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-1837-3 (eBook)

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to my husband, Wil Robertson. I am grateful for all his guidance, support, direction, and devotion.

I would like to express my gratitude to all the Divine Beings and Angelic Helpers who assisted me while writing. They helped me to learn, grow, heal, and find true love. I would also like to thank Angela Jeffreys and Linda Bayers for taking the time to help me with the writing process.

To my son, T.J. Richards, who is my greatest teacher. To my father, Norman Leonard, for his abundant support and guidance for me and my son. To all the other beautiful characters who helped me understand myself on a deeper level, especially Marl. And of course, to all those looking for love in all the wrong ways.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 - Premonitions

Chapter 2 - Life Lessons

Chapter 3 - Transitions

Chapter 4 - The Right Cat

Chapter 5 - Wrecking Ball

Chapter 6 - A New Beginning

Chapter 7 - A Fool’s Journey

Chapter 8 - Decoy or Real McCoy

Chapter 9 - Dream Man

Chapter 10 - Friends before Lovers

Chapter 11 - Right Soul Mate

Chapter 12 - Our Chosen Path

Chapter 13 - The Spiral Staircase

Chapter 14 - Intimacy Issues

Chapter 15 - Connection or Deception

Chapter 16 - Spiritual intervention

Chapter 17 - The Vision

Chapter 18 - The Blind Eye

Chapter 19 - Tough Love

Chapter 20 - Map of Destinations

Chapter 21 - Awareness

Chapter 22 - Final Destination

About the Author

Introduction

The book all began as a journal for me to sort through my thoughts, feelings, dreams, and messages, to heal, learn, and now share. It will make you laugh, cry, and wonder. As I examine my past, a strange childhood memory awakens. Most of my life, I struggled with relationship issues and never knew why… until I wrote in my journal. I was knowingly guided by my dreams and messages since the age of five. Unbeknownst to me, my higher senses were triggered by a childhood trauma.

At the age of forty-five, divorced with a teenage son, and then recently separated from a common-law relationship, my guiding dreams were required more than ever. I was left terrified to make any more mistakes. Usually, I knew ahead of time if I would meet someone new, or if a relationship would end. The year 2000 was an incredible turning point in my life, a destination, and an opportunity for growth and change. It was mapped out before I arrived in this physical reality. Guided by my dreams, I followed a path that seemingly led me astray, lost, and confused. The truth is that this path directed me to my lessons and revealed many truths.

Premonitions were a substantial part of my life and exceptional guidance until… Lo and behold, ‘I had a dream’ that displayed the back of the head of my future husband and soul mate. Though this perplexed me, my dream vision portrayed an uncanny resemblance to the most unlikely candidate: the charming, handsome, commitment-phobic, forty-two-year-old I was currently dating.

I fully trusted my guidance. Bound and determined to fulfill my destiny, I enticed the dream man to commit to me. When all efforts failed, a five-year search for my true soul mate was initiated while encountering many lessons in the form of decoys. The mystery ensues as I continued to have guiding dreams, messages, and visions. Some dreams contain vivid messages, excellent guidance, and clear answers to questions beyond my imagination, while others send me on wild goose chases, baffled and dismayed.

My reflections also touch on my struggles as a single parent to a son who develops issues with drugs and alcohol. My journey is both serious and amusing!

Certain parts of this book were channeled from my guide. It is both autobiographical and creative non-fiction to protect the identities of certain individuals. Some character descriptions, names, conversations, and scenes have been altered or created to bring my thoughts to the forefront, to entertain, or to teach.

Chapter 1

Premonitions

Where is my husband? Strolling down the aisle of a plane, feeling somewhat bewildered, I scan the area to find no one in sight. The morning sun streams through the portholes and interrupts an unobstructed view. Concerned, I place my hand on the side of my forehead to block the blinding rays. I proceed down the aisle attentively, and then off in the distance, I can see the back of a man’s head.

As I approach, I say, Oh, there he is! and I head for my husband, my true soul mate. I stop and stand behind him and long to run my hands through his soft silky hair. Instead, I study the shape of his forehead, his hairline, and every detail. I feel a sense of immense love, peace, and tranquility.

I wake in a panic! I pull my legs to the side of the bed and rub my temples, muttering in disbelief as I abruptly return to my current loveless reality.

No way; it just can’t be him!

I turn towards the sky, sigh, and say out loud: Dear God, or whoever is currently providing me with this ridiculous direction — YOU HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE — this is my rebound person and only meant to be a fleeting romance!

On December 8th, 2000, I dress in a mad rush and scurry off to my friend Marl’s place. I am in need of her guidance. It’s a gray morning with ominous clouds. The minute I walk out the door, the sky opens up and cold rain pummels down in a sweeping fashion. I run back in the house, grab an umbrella, and drive off to Marl’s.

Upon arrival, I anxiously ring the buzzer in her condo building and dash up the stairs. I walk in the opened door and hardly notice the delightful fragrance of baked goods waffling in the air. Rainwater drips down my face and my hands are in a gripping position as I stare straight ahead and walk by Marl in the galley kitchen without saying hello.

Is tea on? I ask, as if in a trance.

Tea... Marl says while staring at me. Oh my God, you’re a sight for sore eyes! Did you forget to brush your hair?

My hair is the least of my problems, I reply. I’m as frazzled as my hair.

Hold on; I’ll put the kettle on, Marl says as I follow her to the kitchen like a lost sheep. Now, tell me… What happened? she asks with concern.

We both sit at the kitchen table, our usual spot to chat and discuss our joys or whatever ails us. As we wait for the kettle to boil, I explain my predicament. Last night, I dropped down on my knees and prayed for a dream to guide and direct me to my true soul mate, to prevent any further relationship mistakes. Marl… my prayers were answered — but it must be a mistake!

Marl signals me to hold on and pours our tea. The minute the brew hits the cup, I blurt out all the details of the dream.

"What did this back of the head look like?" Marl asks, eyes narrowed.

I explain with a sense of disbelief, It shows my soul mate with dark wavy hair, just like…

She overfills her teacup, and tea lands in her saucer with just a little spill on the table. She tightens her lips, straightens her back, waves her hand back and forth, and exclaims, Not him!

I agree, but… I say in a shaky voice, there is an uncanny resemblance to him.

Marl grabs a tea towel to wipe the spill and pours the tea from the saucer back into her cup. She says supportively, Maybe you caused this dream from your enormous difficulties with relationships. You’re forty-five and recently separated from a common-law relationship. Plus, you’re divorced with a teenage son and obviously terrified to make any more mistakes.

Yes, Marl, I did cause it. I asked for guidance. All of my life, my dreams have given me clarity and great understanding, especially with relationships, I say with a fixed stare. I add extra milk and guzzle my tea like a glass of water.

She holds her hand in the stop position and says, Catherine, he’s the most unlikely candidate, but still, I can see why you’re crazy about him. He’s charming and handsome, though clearly a commitment-phobic ladies’ man.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat to explain, My guiding dreams have always delivered clear messages. Excuse the pun, but I can’t make heads nor tails of why this dream appears to be the ‘back of the head’ of a forty-two-year-old Casanova. I had no intention of this being a lasting relationship in the beginning, but now I don’t know…

Marl raises her eyebrows, flashes a disapproving look, and asks, Do you actually think he has potential? She abruptly gets up to pour more tea from the pot steeping on the stove.

Possibly, I say defensively. Another cup would be great. When you sit down, I’ll tell you about a date when we first met.

She refills my cup and puts some freshly baked peanut butter cookies on the table. Go ahead; I’m listening. Marl takes a seat, folds her arms tightly against her abdomen, and then looks at me attentively with creases in her brow.

I’m not going to use his first name since I’m trying to distance myself from him, so we can call him Dream-Man, I say. I then pause to sip the perfectly brewed tea and nibble on my favorite cookies, like a squirrel. It is too embarrassing to share, but I will. After a long-term relationship, I knew it was important to stay away from anything too serious. I decided to allow myself a guilt-free romantic fling if the opportunity presented itself. Well, indeed it did and I fell quickly under his spell.

Marl interrupts, "Isn’t it funny the way that people or things are drawn into our lives, just because we need them, or it." She giggles like a schoolgirl.

Funny, Marl, I say and quickly return to my story. "Shortly after we met, he called to ask me out for supper one evening, and I happily agreed. He then politely asked, ‘Would it be an imposition to meet at my place around six? I can take you to the restaurant from here.’

I replied, ‘No problem.’ As he patiently gave me directions, I cringed and said to myself, ‘Problem with a capital P!’ Bob did most of the driving and I did not have my driving legs yet. I wasn’t familiar with his area… Not to mention, I am terrible at directions. The restaurant he chose is a classy one, so I had to dig around a heap of second-hand and bargain store clothes in my closet for a nice outfit to wear."

Marl nods, then asks, What outfit did you wear?

Do you remember my black silk ‘special occasion only’ outfit?

Is that the silky black pantsuit? she asks. It always looked so good on you. Why don’t you wear it anymore?

Yes, that outfit… you’ll see, I say. I wore it with a sleeveless silk turquoise top and some nice turquoise jewelry. Unfortunately, I decided on bare feet in t-strapped sandals to dress it up. I looked forward to a romantic evening with this enchanting man. Before I left, he told me to call if I had any problem. I placed his phone number and directions beside me in the car, which didn’t mean diddlysquat because if I got lost, I had no cell phone to make a call.

Marl laughs and comments, Knowing you… I bet you got lost.

Sure did, I say with a slight chuckle. Not only that, I couldn’t find a phone booth to call my date for help. Finally, I found someone walking along the road who gave me proper directions to his building and off I went to find the Wizard.

Wizard… I like that description, she says with a cynical look on her face. He may feel magical and I bet he can do a disappearing act if need be.

I give her a peculiar look and then continue with my story. A half-hour late, I pulled into the parking lot and noticed him standing outside, eagerly watching for me. Then, I felt a thump! Horrible thoughts ran through my head as I slammed on the brakes and then attempted to get out of the car with my seatbelt still on.

Did you kill anything? Marl gasps.

No! I laugh. After a ridiculous struggle with my seatbelt, I got out of the car to find a strange culprit. Believe it or not, I ran over a bloody curb. Thankfully it didn’t cause any notable damage.

Marl slaps her hand on the table and tilts her head back like an owl before asking, How could you run over something so obvious?

The curb was in a strange spot, I say. Since I didn’t want to run over anything else, I parked beside it. All in a fluster, I jumped out of the car, waved to him, and then, like a fool, tripped over the same bloody curb.

Marl covers her mouth while trying to stifle her laughter. She signals me to continue.

He rushed over to check on me, and before he could bend down to help me up, I sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, claiming to be ok. He looked worried and mentioned his concern when I didn’t show up on time. He then looked down at my pants and said, ‘You have a rip in your pants; let me see if you hurt yourself.’ I insisted I was fine while shaking my head and waving my hands like a traffic cop to direct his attention away from my knee.

Marl says, That must’ve hurt.

At that point, my adrenaline level must’ve been sky high, considering I dropped like a lead balloon and didn’t feel a bloody thing. I shrug my shoulders as I answer. Next, my date called the restaurant to hold the reservation, and we prepared to leave.

So you left without checking to see if you injured your knee?

Yes and I did my best to hide it, I say. I carefully sat down in his car and laid my purse on my lap to cover the gaping hole in the knee of my pants. Unfortunately, when I got out of his car at the restaurant, we both noticed blood running down my foot in streams. At that moment, I wished I had worn shoes. I turned fifty shades of red and gulped while mentioning I may need a bandage or… two.

Marl slowly shakes her head and gestures for me to continue.

He carefully patched me up with a medical kit from his car. Finally, we proceeded to the restaurant to order supper, along with a glass of wine to calm my fragile nerves. So, what do you think, Marl?

Marl smirks and then says with her evil laugh, That was entertaining — you sound VERY prepared for a relationship.

Don’t make me laugh or I’ll start to cry, I say, half-smiling. Seriously, Marl, I say with mouth turned down, it was the first stage of something beautiful, exciting, confusing, and unnerving. I pushed him away, and now he’s pushing me away.

So what are you going to do? Marl asks while peering at me over her glasses like a displeased teacher.

My shoulders slump. I look down as I mumble, I’m going to test him and see if he’s the one. I wait for an adverse reaction.

Marl flashes a look of disapproval and says sarcastically, That should be interesting.

To say the least, I say, my nose scrunched. Meanwhile, I’ve taken a two-week vacation before Christmas to rest, review, and reflect. I’ll do lots of journaling to better understand my life.

Good idea, Marl says. It also sounds like a good time for a vacation, considering you only took a few days off of work to heal from your recent operation. She has a drink of tea, puckers her lips, and continues, Our friend Hanna from Human Resources is selling her old computer. You should give her a call. It would be easier than writing by hand.

Thanks, I will, I say. I have to go now… talk to you tomorrow. I scurry out the door in hopes of finding some answers from above.

Looking for clarity, before I go to bed, I ask my Spiritual Guide a few tough questions. Why do I feel misguided instead of guided? Did I ask my dreams to show me a premature situation, or did I receive too much detail, or am I just oblivious to its true meaning? Even worse — did I interfere with a cosmic plan?

I go to sleep hoping for a dream. Unfortunately, I wake with no clear answers. As I get up to wash the sleep from my eyes, I stand before the mirror, look directly into my eyes, and begin to think about my new journey to write. Next, I wonder about something that my father once told me.

When you look in the mirror and stare into your eyes, it can reflect all the different lives you have lived. Gaze for a while in a dimly lit room until your face starts to change shape, size, and color. Not only mentioned in urban legends, it seems to be true. I’ve done it a few times. It’s amazing to see your own face continually change and reveal a possible collective self.

I stare at my face in my mirror and speak to myself to test the theory. What mysteries lie beneath this physical being I see in the mirror? My thirst for a greater understanding is growing by the day. That’s it! I’ll buy the computer from Hanna. My face does ‘not’ change. The truth is, I’m not ready to explore that type of phenomenon just yet.

On Saturday morning, Hanna arrives with her old and my new computer. She’s blonde, tall, cute, and funny.

Hanna asks, What’s your new interest in a computer?

It’s that dream of my future husband, I huff. It’s caused a nagging urge to write about all my premonition dreams and experiences.

Do you get a lot of those type of dreams? she asks inquisitively.

Yes, I say. Over time, my dreams and premonitions have become more powerful and prominent, especially during periods of change or upheaval. Now, I’m questioning my life, my spiritual experiences, my current difficulties, and most of all, my dreams.

Hanna grins and says, Good luck with your intriguing project.

I respond with a forced smile, Thanks, Hanna… I’ll need more than luck.

She sets up the computer and shows me the basics. After she leaves, I sit and stare at the computer in a state of self-pity. Then, I think of a childhood rhyme about a pay bathroom stall back in the sixties. Here I sit, brokenhearted, paid my dime, and only farted. Instead, here I sit, brokenhearted, paid my time, and only parted.

I begin to pound on the keyboard like a three-year-old trying to play a toy piano. I can’t type for beans! I try my best to transfer the information to the computer from my handwritten journal entries, but it is a struggle with two clumsy fingers. So, I call a very spiritual person, my father, about my difficulties.

First, he asks, Do you feel flooded with information?

Yes. I’m writing a mile a minute, terrified I may miss some important details, I reply with excitement. My father tells me that I’m being assisted and then suggests that I channel energy from my Spiritual Guides to help me with my typing.

He says distinctly, Permit your Guides to work through you while laying your hands on the keyboard.

I thank my dad, hang up, and rush upstairs to my computer area beside my bed to experiment. After taking several deep breaths, I place my hands lightly over the keyboard and give permission. Suddenly, an enormous sense of peace washes over me. It works!

To my amazement, I feel gentle involuntary movements of my fingers touching keys. Excited, I look at the computer screen to see words flow from my fingertips without interruption. It feels euphoric! I spend Saturday afternoon in my glory: channeling uplifting light energy full of wisdom and guidance, releasing bound-up energy, writing, and learning how to type.

I take a break to go for a casual supper with Dream-Man. Unfortunately, I can’t mention the dream to my date due to the way things are going. At supper I sit across from him, picking at my food and rehearsing a way to test his feelings for me. I do my utmost to conceal my hurt, pent-up frustration and stay quiet throughout most of the meal. After supper, we talk briefly with no happy resolution. Then he leaves, which leaves me upset and confused.

Even though it’s early, I put on my flannel pj’s and make a pot of chamomile tea. I go upstairs to my TV lounge with an oversized mug of hot tea, wrap myself in a cozy blanket, and sit in my rocking chair which faces the balcony window. My two cuddly cats jump up to join me. The hypnotic sound of their purrs calms me. While sipping my tea, I stare at the beautiful crisp winter evening sky and wonder about my convoluted love life.

After a half-hour of reeling over my past, I get up to go sit on my computer chair. Calm and relaxed, I start with a few deep breaths and prepare to channel some unearthly energy to guide my fingers, but… I get nothing. I wonder if I only magically type when specific information needs to be revealed.

With a combination of sorrow and grief, I write in my journal for hours and lose track of time. Finally, I get up to stretch and almost fall over from exhaustion. Like a zombie, I get ready for bed. This is the evening of the 9th, and I haven’t fully recovered from my operation. Plus, I’ve been pushing myself a lot lately.

In the morning, I wake to my two loving cats draped over my stomach and purring like a well-oiled engine. Like it or not, it’s time to get up. It’s Marl time again. We worked at the bank together since 1988. Fortunately, she’s now retired and more available to see. With a sturdy build, Marl is barely five feet tall. She has big blue eyes, smooth skin, a small perky mouth, and soft features with an old-fashioned outlook on romance.

Marl is about ten years older than me and has a warm, nurturing, motherly nature. Her round gold-rimmed glasses sit perfectly on her puffy rosy cheeks. Marl is as cute as a button; she often wears her silver hair permed in a short style.

I call Marl to put on the kettle, devour a bran muffin like a snake, then off I go. When I arrive, she greets me at the door, eagerly waiting to hear all my news.

Ok, what happened with Dream-Man? she asks with her hands on her hips.

My body droops and my lower lip quivers as I say, It’s over. Marl gestures for me to continue. Last night, I tested Fate and ended our relationship. I thought that if he truly cared about me, he wouldn’t desert me… but he did.

Marl motions for me to sit, pours two big mugs of tea and asks, How did you say it?

I answer with a low tone and look to the floor, I told him, ‘If you’re not looking for a commitment, I should move on.’ He paused without saying anything to dissuade me.

Marl replies with attitude, Well, that proves where things stand — don’t you think? I force a smile before she continues, All this stress is not good timing for you. When do you get your biopsy results from your breast lumpectomy?

I should have the results by the 13th. You know, I never wanted to break up with him; I just wanted to push him in or out, I say regretfully. Then I pull a cigarette out of my purse and light it to have with my tea.

Marl gives me a sideways look and says, You’re still smoking!

After I exhale a big puff of smoke, I say, I tried to quit; it just didn’t work out. I continue while waving the smoke away, Too much stress and crap in my life right now to try again.

Marl hums. I’m not ready either, and lights a cigarette. Anyway… he’s just not the right one for you. You deserve someone who will be devoted to you. You could attract whoever you want — you’re attractive, tall, slim, and blondish, she says, trying to increase my confidence.

Thanks, Marl… you’re kind. I smile softly and say, We broke up shortly after supper, and then I worked on my journal, typing and writing by hand to calm my nerves.

Marl tilts her head sideways, pops her eyes, and puckers her lips like a blowfish before she asks, Did you learn anything interesting about yourself while writing? She lightens the mood with her antics that remind me of a cartoon character.

Yes, I did, I say with a childish giggle. It’s funny the way our childhood experiences mold us. I continue more seriously, I always had an overwhelming conscience, which often affected my ability to process guilt and shame. Since I always did something to be ashamed of, I developed a guilt complex in the early years.

Do you also think you had a self-worth problem? Marl asks. She turns sideways in her chair, crosses her legs, and lights another cigarette like a therapist from back in the old days.

Definitely! I say. Like most children, I didn’t realize that our own opinion of ourselves is the most important one. Over the years, I learned that anger is an important emotion to express ‘constructively’ of course. It protects a person’s self-worth, and without self-worth, there will be guilt and shame. While growing up, I wasn’t very good at expressing myself. What about you?

Expressing myself was never an issue. I grew up in a big family and the loudest got heard, Marl says with a big grin. Did you have psychic experiences as a child? she asks.

I stare straight ahead and search my mind before responding, While growing up, there were times I knew without a doubt that things were going to happen, and they did. This felt natural to me; however, other people didn’t speak of such things, so I kept my ability to myself. I wanted to feel special, not different. For some strange reason, I felt different from most people, anyway.

Why did you need to feel special? Marl asks.

I look down and say, I’m not sure. I continue, feeling nostalgic, At a very young age, I’d gaze out my bedroom window at the stars and wonder about eternity. Sometimes I’d lie awake at night and think about how life could not consist of a mass of coincidences, accidents, and luck. I was concerned that if this were true, there would be no meaning or structure to our world — it would be chaotic and out of control.

That’s quite the deep thinking for a young person. How old were you? she asks while sipping her tea in between puffing on her smoke.

I believe I was ten, I say. This reminds me of a funny premonition I had at the age of five. It had to do with a pothole in the road that I couldn’t avoid falling into. My deep thinking as a youngster also made me wonder about life in general. Nighttime was for contemplating while daytime consisted of a frivolous reality based on the view of a typical ten-year-old, I say lightheartedly.

We both laugh like teenage girls. I continue in a humorous tone, Around that time, I prayed for the ability to see far into the future, just to have a glimpse of my husband-to-be. Isn’t that an interesting twist of fate!

Marl says facetiously, Apparently, the old adage ‘Be careful what you wish for’ contains a great deal of validity. I nod vigorously. You’ve had various experiences over the years. Why do you call them all premonitions? Marl asks in a more serious tone.

For many years it was the only term I knew, I say. Throughout most of my life, I’ve experienced different types of fascinating things — most of all guiding dreams. I still refer to my experiences as premonitions due to its wide range of meanings.

Doesn’t premonition mean to see an event from the future without any prior knowledge? she asks inquisitively.

It does, although they can appear in different ways. I nod and say, My father once told me that premonitions are spiritual messages to warn, guide, or teach. They occur in many forms such as feelings, visions, sounds, etc., in addition to future event dreams.

Marl suggests, "Tell me why you think that your recent dream is so wrong."

The bad timing, for one, I say while shaking my head. It’s crazy. My dreams have always shown me the absolute truth, so there must be something important about this dream that I’m missing. Maybe there’s a hidden clue somewhere.

She says, mimicking a gypsy, The time has arrived for you to examine your past, to determine your future direction. Dig into the mysterious reasons behind your dreams and premonitions to learn the truth.

Funny, but true, I say lightheartedly. It may also lift my spirits to have a good chuckle at a few of my unfortunate escapades. Life’s lessons are often difficult, while sometimes they’re downright comical. In those cases, it is better to learn from the mistakes of others rather than from firsthand experience — like me.

We discuss love, life, and past mistakes. After exhausting the subjects, I go home for a late afternoon nap. My cats sit upright and stiff as soldiers while they look out the side panel window beside the door, eagerly waiting for my arrival. I make a cup of hot cocoa with lots of sugar, grab my pink flowered comforter, and sink in my swivel rocking chair. I sip hot cocoa, hoping to rest before supper. The kitties jump up to join me.

My mind is churning too much to rest, plus I’m too lazy to make a healthy supper, so I prepare my back-up plan of toast and jam. Then I began to examine my life as a blood sample under a microscope. Apprehensive of the findings, I journal about the past with great momentum and continue during my entire vacation. As I search my mind for answers to the mystery of myself, I find lots of contradictions.

Mysterious childhood events:

It all began with my first premonition in 1960, at the early age of five. It occurred on my way to school one day. I visualized a large pothole in the road, knowing with certainty I’d fall into it. I thought I could avoid falling into the pothole because I knew the exact location.

Even though it was too far away to see, I could picture it on the right side of the road close to the crossroads. It was the second day of school and the older kids were escorting the younger children. We had taken a different route to school the day before, so the visual was not from memory.

When I came close to where the pothole should be, I moved to the other side of the road to avoid the fall… ever so carefully. Suddenly, an oncoming car distracted me. At that very moment, one of the older kids moved me back to the right side of the road to protect me from the approaching vehicle. Sure enough, I fell into the pothole that I had so desperately tried to avoid.

At the time, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to prevent something I had known with every fiber of my being would happen. Many years later, I began to understand the reason. Now, it’s clear that my visualization of falling into a pothole was a message to be mindful of the feelings of others. It was no accident — it happened for a reason.

The day before, a little girl had fallen on her way to school and the teacher had taken her to the washroom in the back of the class to tend to her wound. Since I was sitting at the back seat of the room, I noticed the washroom door was slightly ajar and saw her leotards hanging over the door. I found it amusing the way the leotards were hanging, so mischievously I gave the door a little tap; consequently, I ended up in the corner on my very first day at school.

Even though I knew it was wrong, I did it impulsively without thinking of the consequences. Little did I know I would be in that very same washroom the next day having a bandage put on my own wound. My actions literally boomeranged back at me and knocked me off my feet. Just the thought of some little brat giving the door a little tap mortified me! That lesson had a significant impact on my childhood behavior.

My mother and father were devoted Catholics. However, my father had formerly been an Anglican who converted to Catholicism and thankfully had an open mind to Eastern philosophies. We grew up in a stable, loving, peaceful household. Mom did not need to yell or spank. When she glared at me with those piercing eyes that could burn a hole in my retina — I was ready to repent.

When we were young, my brother and I had a fear of God instilled in us. We believed that no bad deed would go unpunished, whether caught or not. God, like Santa Claus, would know if we were naughty or nice. My younger brother was born before I turned five.

Suddenly, a mysterious event crosses my mind. This also occurred the summer before I turned five. As I dig deeper into the memory pool, I recall more about this unnerving incident. We had moved to a new house in the suburbs that summer, so there was no concern about traffic; however, other matters showed up. A close encounter of a particular kind may have happened that day...

While playing in the dirt by the side of the road close to my home, I felt a presence. I looked up to see an old man with the kindest face that I could ever imagine. He was leaning over me, smiling. The old man took my hand rather firmly.

He kept insisting, Let’s go for a walk in the woods to pick flowers. The woods were adjacent to my home.

I firmly said, No, a few times, but then, strangely, I remember walking towards the woods. At some point, ‘stranger-danger’ must have sunk in and I frantically ran home to safety. When I returned, I jumped into bed and dove under my covers to feel safe while saying to myself, "Thank God he did not hurt me!"

Looking back, I realize that as a child I was timid and oversensitive. A fright from a stranger, even a well-intended stranger, might’ve caused anxiety. I would faint whenever I became overheated, such as on Sundays in church or in any crowded place. To make matters worse, I was easily devastated with a simple unkind word. For some unknown reason, I could sense the feelings and emotions of others and wanted to protect everyone — everyone except myself, that is.

Chapter 2

Life Lessons

Even at a young age, I was a hopeless romantic. After Sunday dinners, I’d lie in my bed, eat Jujubes, read fairy tales, and fantasize about my prince to come. It felt most magical on a sunny afternoon when a beam of warm golden light would cascade through my bedroom window — like a stream of angel dust — and I could hear the cheerful sounds of the children echoing from the nearby playground.

This always gave me a great sense of peace, happiness, and hope. I deliriously hoped and prayed that maybe someday my prince would come and take me to a place that always felt magical. Then, once my handsome prince found me, life would be happy ever after… Amen. At the time, I didn’t realize how many frogs I’d have to kiss before finding my handsome prince.

In the winter of 1974, I met Charles. I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. He was tall with dark wavy hair and reminded me of my teenage heartthrob, Desi Arnaz Jr. We had many things in common and both loved to dance. Another one of my prayers had been answered when I found Charles — the man of my dreams.

My self-esteem and confidence had significantly improved and so did my life. I thought I had found the right love and someone to be proud of, which in turn would make me proud of myself. However, it was doomed from the start because deep down I believed Charles