After I returned from Yreka, my sleep patterns never completely went back to normal. I’d been having nightmares about Cheryl’s accident for years, but the traumatic experience in Yreka took my nightmares to an entirely new level. Tapping into a fear from my infancy that I’d blocked out before I could even walk, the dreams shook me to my very core. And as the weeks progressed, I began dreading falling asleep because the inevitable flashbacks to that day in Yreka were sure to return. Robert attempted to assure me that I was safe, but I still felt that whatever was after me seemed to get closer when I was sleeping.
After nearly two full weeks of violently disturbed sleep, I began to get really worried and started to obsessively research what dreams meant and how they could be controlled. The lack of rest was definitely affecting my waking hours, and I was increasingly becoming unsure of the line that separated the two. I resorted to browsing nearly every bookshelf in the library and was finally relieved to discover a book about lucid dreaming, which outlined in very practical terms the tools needed to control dreams. I hoped that if I could remain in control, I would be able to put mine in their place and finally get an uninterrupted night’s rest.
I started by explicitly following the instructions in the book, and before I went to sleep, I would set the intention to meet my dream guides as soon as I was unconscious. I chose to hold on to the idea of my ancestors from the constellation because they were the only people I knew who were dead besides Cheryl. I was hoping that they would accept my invitation, since I’d only briefly met them at the constellation and had never spent much time with them while they were still alive.
I wasn’t very successful at first, and every time I tried to influence my dreams, I would either wake up or get sucked into another flashback of Yreka. What finally worked was to imagine standing in one place and spinning around really fast as soon as I began dreaming. Once I stopped spinning, I would still be dreaming and would remain in control. After a few nights of practice, I was able to direct my dreams without spinning.
When I finally arrived in my first lucid dream state, I nearly tripped over an older man seated in a weathered wooden rocking chair. We were on the porch of a familiar gray house with a white picket fence bordering a huge cornfield that I thought I recognized but couldn’t place. It was nearly dusk, and the air was warm and humid, with the buzzing sound of crickets filling the silence. After a few moments of taking in the scene, I recognized the porch as a house in Iowa my grandmother had taken me to when I’d visited her as a child. The house had been about to be torn down, and she had wanted to show me where she’d grown up.
“Hello, Scott,” the older gentleman on the porch said as he kept the rocking chair in motion with his large bare feet.
I stared at him blankly.
“I’m your great-grandfather.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”
“That’s okay—you never saw me when we were on the same plane before.”
He had died in a hunting accident before I was born, which probably explained why my grandmother had been so upset when she’d found out that my father wanted to give me a gun for my thirteenth birthday. Nobody had really talked about my great-grandfather when I was growing up, and the only time I’d ever met him was at the constellation when he was represented by a woman.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time here,” my great-grandfather continued. “Don’t you like living on Earth?”
“It’s okay, I guess.” I had never thought about it before. “I suppose I was just drawn here to discover something.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. But it seems important.”
“Yes, it is. You are starting to pay attention to your intuition, which is good. You will come to find it is the only sense you can rely on. Your eyes and ears are easily deceived, but your intuition is your compass.”
At that moment, the white picket fence that surrounded the house morphed into a brightly colored cement wall that was painted in alternating rectangles of primary colors. The lawn turned to sand before my very eyes, and a silver metal slide and seesaw grew out of it within seconds. I instantly recognized the playground as the one from the preschool I had attended during my early childhood years. When I looked back to my great-grandfather, I saw that his house had been replaced by a lowslung gray stucco schoolhouse.
“Where are we?” I yelled over the echoes of childhood screams that began to fill the playground.
“We are in your dreamland.”
“My dreamland? What’s here?”
“Whatever you want to be. You can use it to work on earthly problems and find the best solutions before returning. It’s also a good way to stay in touch with the spirit plane while you’re on Earth.”
Although none of this seemed to make sense logically, I could feel in my heart that what he was saying was true. “So this is the spirit plane?”
“No, this is a safe zone between consciousness and the spirit plane. Many of the same rules apply, but nobody can get in unless you invite them here.”
“Can I get to the spirit plane from here?”
“Yes, you can, but you aren’t ready yet. I suggest you spend some time here and get familiar with your dreamland first. If you’re still interested, we can talk about that later.”
Spending time in my dreamland was a lot of fun. I could conjure almost any time and place I wanted and meet friends and relatives from the past at whatever age I wanted them to be. I started with my favorite memories, reliving them one at a time: The first time I learned to ride a bicycle. My first puppy. The vacation to Yosemite. One after another, I revisited these moments until I couldn’t remember any more.
Then I began to conjure my worst memories and change them into good ones. I visited my first day of first grade, where I wet my pants during recess. I found I could will a different course of events if I tried hard enough. So I made sure to use the bathroom before I went to class, and by the time recess came around, I was completely dry and played on the seesaw without incident. I ran through my bad memories and fixed them all. I could reinvent my past, and although I knew it hadn’t actually changed the course of my own history, I became much more at ease with myself. It was comforting to know that I could learn from my mistakes.
But there was one thing I couldn’t figure out.
“Why can’t I relive memories with Cheryl?” I asked my great-grandfather.
“As I mentioned before, you are able to invite people and places into your dreamland at will. But those people and places have to accept your invitation before coming in. The souls of people you conjure actually participate in your dreams.”
“But why wouldn’t she want to come in? Even people I haven’t seen since preschool come.”
“You trapped Cheryl in your dreamland for many years, and she was unable to progress to where she needed to be. At the moment, she’s a bit wary of returning here.”
“How could I trap her here when she needed to accept my invitation to come?”
“Well, of course she accepted it at first—you had a very special bond. But once she arrived, you kept her here by sinking your energetic hooks in her.”
“Really? Why would I do that?”
“There are many reasons to attach to other people’s energy. In your case, it was out of fear that you were going to lose a part of yourself when she died.”
His words struck a chord in me that I knew was true. The more I understood, the more I felt awful about what I had done to Cheryl after she died.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” my greatgrandfather said. “It’s actually a pretty common situation for many people who love each other.”
“Is she mad at me?”
“I doubt it. You just need to give her some space until she gets her own afterlife established, and I’m sure she’ll visit you in the future once she’s more settled.”
I realized that one of the main things keeping my interest in the dreamland alive was the search for Cheryl. Once I discovered that she wasn’t to be found, I began to get bored. I asked my great-grandfather about showing me the spirit plane again, and although he told me I still wasn’t ready, he could tell I was getting close. Eventually he agreed to help me prepare.
“The first thing you have to do is learn to protect yourself energetically from other souls,” he began. “Here you don’t have the barrier of a body to shield yourself from energy outside your soul, so you need to learn to contain yourself.”
“Contain myself? What does that mean?”
“You need to surround yourself with protective white light so that it only lets good energy in. You’ll still be able to feel everything, but there won’t be any serious damage, like what happened in Yreka.”
“You know about that?”
“Of course. I was with you that day. I’ve been walking with you since you were born. You just didn’t pay attention.”
I wondered why it had taken me so long to let my ancestors help me. I’d always felt that it was more noble to be on my own, but I began to understand that drawing from the strength of family felt quite natural.
“Do you believe in evil?” I was still trying to come to terms with what seemed like a simple idea, but it became more complicated the more I thought about it. “I’m not sure if I believe we are all good and evil, or if evil is outside of me. I guess if we were all one, then I wouldn’t need protection, right?”
“Not necessarily. The truth lies somewhere in between. Yes, it’s true we are all one, but it’s also about relative power. Relative strength.”
“What do you mean?”
“For example, if a negative force is drawing from all the negative energy of humanity and you are drawing only from your own positive energy, it’s likely you would be overpowered.”
“Like I was in Yreka?”
“Exactly. Eventually, you will learn to harness like energy from other souls that are in solidarity with you. But I don’t recommend you try to do that now, since you’ll have to leave yourself open and vulnerable in order to align yourself with others. You need more experience to be able to discern who is helpful and who is not.”
“So what should I do?”
“For now, you should simply protect yourself. As you grow in your own personal power, you will naturally attract others with like interests, but after what happened to you in Yreka, you should probably be extra careful as you have already attracted some attention you don’t want.”
“Will you show me how to protect myself?” I definitely didn’t want to go through another Yreka experience.
“It’s quite simple. Just imagine yourself surrounded by a bubble of white light and relax. The more you do so, the more the white light will fill your soul and protect you.”
“But where does the white light come from?”
“It comes from within. White is made up of all the colors, which are all inside you. By releasing the energy of them simultaneously, you both cleanse and protect yourself from unwanted energy as they blend together into the color white.”
It all seemed very abstract and complicated, and I became frustrated as I tried to remember mixing paint in summer-school art class. “I don’t think I’m doing it right.”
“That’s because you’re thinking too much. Simply feel protected. Feel safe. Don’t let your mind get in the way. The colors will take care of themselves. Just relax and feel secure. I’m right here. I won’t let you down.”
As I quieted my breathing and imagined feeling safe and protected, I began to sense a warm glow emanating deep from within. It filled me slowly at first, and when I opened my eyes, it looked like I was standing under a very bright lightbulb. But I could see that the light was literally coming from within me. Its energy illuminated nearly two feet in all directions, and it felt very comforting. The more I relaxed, the brighter the light got, but when I started to think about what was happening, it would dim. And although it was unusual to see myself lit up like a lightbulb, it also felt very natural.
“Good,” my great-grandfather said. “Practice that regularly, and once you get used to your light, I’ll take you to the other side. Protection is very important on the spirit plane—we don’t want anything bad to happen.”
I spent the next few days practicing surrounding myself with protective light, and as I did so, I became less afraid of going to sleep at night. It finally felt that I had the tools to keep myself safe and protected if something horrible happened again like it had in Yreka.
I also changed my diet significantly. I had to stop eating at restaurants completely because I could no longer trust that the employees would be in a good mood when they prepared my food. And since I would ingest their energy when I ate, their mood became mine. I had never learned to cook for myself, but I had no choice now because of how sensitive I’d become.
In addition to my emotional sensitivity, my body also seemed to be changing—I could no longer digest rich foods very easily. I radically simplified my diet to the point of eating only steamed brown rice and drinking red rooibos tea. It was very cleansing, and although I didn’t have a lot of energy when I started, after a while I felt better than I ever had. I knew it wasn’t very healthy in the long run, but those were the only things I could keep in my stomach with all the shifts that were happening. I also felt that the more weight I began to lose, the easier it was to stay in my dreamland. The extra pounds seemed to weigh me down, and the leaner I became, the more freedom I had to slip in and out of consciousness.
When the day to begin exploring the spirit world finally arrived, my great-grandfather took me to a part of my dreamland that I’d never seen before. We walked past the playground of my preschool, across the freeway overpass of my adolescence, and over the mountain pass of my teenage years. On the other side of the mountain range, we approached the edge of a massive cliff that was so high above the valley floor that I couldn’t see the bottom. All that was visible was a field of clouds that went on for miles, with birds flying in and out of the billowy mist like dolphins playing in the surf. I thought I had explored my dreamland thoroughly before, but I didn’t remember this particular precipice. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere when I was ready to see it, and it seemed to beckon me with clouds that were breaking like waves against the cliff. As I stood mesmerized by the awesome beauty in front of me, a small flock of large ravens circled above my head and cast an ominous shadow at my feet.
“Ravens signal change,” my great-grandfather said.
“They always seem to follow me,” I laughed.
“That’s because they are also your spirit animal. You have much change to experience in this lifetime, and the ravens will help keep you on track. They act like signposts to indicate you’re on the right path.”
He took my left hand with his right, and raised his other straight out. Intuitively I mirrored his gesture as we walked to the edge of the cliff.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded, and we both jumped off the cliff together. As soon as our feet left the ground, we plummeted toward the valley below, and my stomach caught in my throat. I felt a twinge of panic as we quickly passed through the clouds and I could see the valley floor rapidly approaching. My greatgrandfather gently squeezed my hand, and his expression told me that everything was going to be okay. I focused on his warm smile and deep, knowing eyes and felt my shoulders begin to relax.
As calmness filled the rest of my body, our free fall gracefully flowed into an arc-like flight that began to curve upward toward the clouds above. When we broke through the cloud cover, the misty whiteness was replaced by a rainbow of crystal-like light beams that shifted and undulated through an ocean of amoebalike pockets of energy. And when I looked over to my great-grandfather, I was surprised to find that he had also transformed into a formless energy membrane. But it was strange because I could almost recognize him more easily without his body than I could with it. It was as if I were finally seeing the real him, without the arbitrary noise of the physical world cluttering his soul.
We continued to fly through the vivid colors with an ease and freedom that was absolutely exhilarating. However, it wasn’t actually like flying; it was more like swimming—swimming in a sea of souls. And since mine was also free of my body, I was able to feel things with much more intensity than I could on Earth. It was as if I had been wearing dirty sunglasses all my life and was finally able to look at a sunset for the first time without protection.
But it wasn’t just seeing and feeling. All of my senses became one, and I could simultaneously see/hear/feel/smell/taste everything surrounding me. My Earth senses were tiny little holes that only let in a portion of what was around me, and I was nearly overwhelmed by my ability to sense with my entire being. There was no difference between seeing and feeling and tasting and hearing and smelling. There was only being and sensing.
“This is incredible!” I said to my great-grandfather telepathically, which felt more natural than my vocal cords ever had. Speaking was as simple as thinking, and I no longer had to worry about vocabulary obscuring my thoughts.
“Yes, it is. This is pure energy. The essence of life without the limitations of the physical world. The physical world has many advantages, but nothing compares to the immediacy of the spiritual plane. Philosophers have long written about the importance of living in the moment, but here you don’t really have a choice.”
“That’s for sure.” It was easy to understand what he meant. Everything was in constant motion, and I was compelled to be aware of every moment that was happening to me. However, the thing that took the most time to get used to was the lack of personal space. The edges of my soul overlapped with those of others’, which felt a bit claustrophobic at first. But soon I was comforted by the feeling of floating in the sea of souls, which was like a familiar fabric that had been stitched together into a massive, undulating quilt.
At first I was cautious and stayed near my great-grandfather. But as I became more confident, I would wander farther and farther away from him before returning to his side. The more I got used to being in the spirit world, the more fun I had with simply moving around. Since gravity wasn’t nearly as confining as it was on Earth, I felt like a kid again, sliding in my socks on my aunt’s hardwood floors. Of course, since there wasn’t any of the friction from my socks (or from my feet, for that matter), I could slide through the sea of souls for what seemed to be miles without slowing.
After one particularly long slide, I found myself unable to slow down and actually felt like I was accelerating far away from my great-grandfather. I called out to him . . . right before I recognized the dark entity that was rapidly approaching. In the instant I sensed what was happening, it started to pull me swiftly toward its dark core. I swirled in circles as the dark energy cords began to entwine my soul and pull me closer. Thankfully, my great-grandfather appeared and took control of the situation.
“Scott, protect yourself with your white light! You’ve let it fade, and you don’t have any protection!”
I looked down and saw that he was right: my light was completely extinguished. I tried to conjure it from within, but my panic prevented me from focusing.
“I can’t!” I screamed. “It’s not working!”
“Just calm down and relax. Your strength remains inside you. Just remember what we practiced and let it come.”
Remarkably, I was able to relax when I tuned in to the confidence my ancestors had in me. My great-grandfather taught me many skills, but his unconditional faith in me brought me more strength than I ever thought possible. Within moments, a wave of calm filled my soul, and I sensed the familiar feeling of my inner light protecting me with a white bubble. As soon as the bubble congealed, I felt it bounce me off of my trajectory and away from the darkness. My great-grandfather followed me closely, and when we finally settled down far away from the danger, he gave me one final reminder.
“You should remember to check in with your protection regularly until it becomes second nature. At first it’s easy to let your guard down and forget to keep it illuminated, but after a while it will simply become a part of you. But as you can see, it’s very slippery here, and mistakes that are made will last for eternity.”
Even after the scare, I still became increasingly preoccupied with spending as much time in the spirit world as possible, and the return to consciousness was much less interesting than it used to be. I didn’t leave my house unless I absolutely had to, and I found myself less interested in other people who were trapped in their physical bodies. I knew that Robert and Martika would probably understand what I was going through, but I didn’t want to stay conscious long enough to see them. Life on Earth seemed so archaic with my minuscule sensory holes that let in a fraction of the world around me, and I found the physical manifestation of bodies to be entirely cumbersome and inelegant.
I was rapidly becoming bored with all that the earthly plane had to offer, and was genuinely annoyed when I started to receive late notices in the mail because I hadn’t kept up with the financial obligations of living a “comfortable” life in the physical world. There was a part of me that wanted to remain a responsible citizen, but mostly I couldn’t stop thinking about the other side whenever I was burdened with consciousness.
After returning to the spirit world, I began to take a much more deliberate approach to exploring my surroundings. I was most fascinated with the other souls I was in constant contact with, although every time I tried to communicate with them, I found it nearly impossible. Everyone’s thoughts were as tangible as any other part of them, but they all mingled together, and it was difficult to discern one from another. It was like trying to listen to whispers in a crowd while standing next to a waterfall.
From the beginning, I was easily able to tune in to my great-grandfather, since I was already familiar with his energy; however, souls I didn’t know were much more challenging. My great-grandfather explained that the problem was that on Earth I was used to multitasking, constantly juggling many things at once to save time. In the spirit plane, everything that ever existed was completely accessible and in constant motion, so it wasn’t possible to concentrate on more than one thing at a time without becoming overwhelmed.
With his help, I retrained myself to be fully present, and once I did, I began to have some of the most profound conversations I’d ever had, even within the simplest of salutations. I could sense that everyone wanted to be heard fully and completely, and quickly realized that I had been missing out on the majority of what was going on around me by constantly “multitasking” my focus away from what was truly happening.
After a while, I became much more comfortable with the basics of spending time on the spirit plane, and the more often we returned, the more crowded it became. And after the fifth time, the souls were so dense that it was nearly impossible to move.
“This is becoming a popular place,” I noticed.
“You are the popular one,” said my great-grandfather. “Souls are coming from the far ends of the spirit world to be near you.”
“What’s so special about me? Is it because I’m new here?”
“That’s part of it, but the main reason is because you are surrounded in white light. Your energy makes them feel good, and they want to be near it.”
“But they can surround themselves with their own white light. Don’t they know that it’s inside them already?”
“Unfortunately, they don’t. Most people think happiness comes from outside themselves, and here it’s no different. It’s one of the great tragedies of life, and the reason why so many live without joy for most of their days.”
“But it’s so easy. You should teach them how to do it, like you did me.”
“That is not my destiny. I am happy to help you with whatever you need, but I’m not interested in helping everyone. Perhaps that is your path.”
At that instant, a small soul floated near, and as it brushed up against me, I could sense its life history. The more time I spent in the spirit world, the longer I was able to focus my attention on a particular soul and read its energy. It was like an internal knowing, and the more open the soul was, the more I could intuit. It seemed strange that I could sense if one was small or large, old or young, happy or sad, but I could. There was a sense of knowing that was more certain than anything I’d thought I’d known on Earth.
The small soul belonged to a young boy who’d lost his parents in a house fire. After bouncing from one unloving foster home to another, he’d died at the tender age of seven after he caught pneumonia in the dead of winter. He was lost and scared and didn’t understand why he was there.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Tamlin.”
“Tamlin, you don’t need to be scared. Do you want to surround yourself with white light like me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“The secret is that it’s already inside you. Think good thoughts, and remember the love of your parents. They still care about you and want you to be happy.” I didn’t know where my words were coming from, but as I let them flow, they seemed to comfort him.
Slowly, a small glowing white light began to flicker inside of Tamlin’s soul. It was smaller than a grain of sand at first, but gradually got bigger. Instinctively, I reached in and gently coaxed the light until it became bright enough to surround him. His soul began to feel lighter and happier until much of his sadness had faded. Within seconds, his parents appeared from the crowd and embraced him.
“Where have you been?” asked the young boy, his soul emanating both anger and elation.
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said his mother. “You were always a beacon of light on Earth, but here we couldn’t find you although we knew you were here somewhere. As soon as we saw your light a few moments ago, we knew we’d finally found you.”
“I don’t think I’m needed here anymore.” My great-grandfather smiled as he began to fade away. “Call out if you need me.”
I spent more and more time in the spirit world and helped as many souls as I could. It seemed very natural to me, and I felt that I was doing what I was born to do. I was bringing many souls joy and happiness, and I could tell that I was genuinely making a difference. It was an immensely powerful experience, and every time I returned, there would be more and more damaged souls waiting to be healed. I had finally found my soul’s purpose, and it was extremely rewarding to be able to do something so meaningful.
Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of Cheryl, but she kept her distance and simply waved. It was nice seeing her again, but I wasn’t obsessed like I’d been previously. I was content to let her be, and knew that she would approach me when she was ready. And as I spent more time in my unconscious world, I began to recognize a little girl who was often near the edge of the cliff to the spirit world. She had a familiar energy, but I couldn’t remember where she might be from.
After a while, I began to look forward to seeing her, and we both traded smiles whenever we saw each other. At first I wasn’t sure if she was dark or light because of how powerful her energy was, but as the days progressed, I could sense that she was friendly. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask her who she was.
“Hi,” I finally greeted her.
“Hello,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Autumn. I am your daughter.”
With that, she giggled playfully and right before my eyes turned into a bright blue dragonfly and hovered a few inches from my nose.
“You’re my daughter?!” I exclaimed while staring dumbfounded into the eyes of the dragonfly.
And over the fluttering of her translucent wings, I heard her giggle once more as she darted away in a blur.