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I woke up on the roof of my house. I nearly had a heart attack.
“How on earth did I get here?” I thought to myself, scratching my head. I was still in my dressing gown, but I was outside on top of my roof. My roof had a flat section where an attic window would have gone if I ever decided to have my loft converted into another bedroom. If the small flat surface wasn't there, I would have just rolled off. My first instinct was to get down, but I was two storeys high. The sun was just rising, and the streetlights were still lit. The breeze caught me off guard, as I only had my dressing gown on as it whipped up inside of it. I sat up and tried to think about how I'd got up here. Did I fly? Did I project myself here? Either way, I had to get down before anybody saw me. I lowered myself from the flat surface which joined onto the slope. Slowly, on my bottom, using my heels as anchors, I shuffled down the sloped part of the roof.
I was making my way towards the gutter at the edge of the house. From my roof, I could see the neighbouring homes across the street, all in darkness. Just one place lit up with pink curtains and teddy bears and dolls lining the upstairs front bedroom windowsill. It was going to be difficult, but I needed to get down and fast. If I hung from the guttering, lowering myself so that my arms and legs were dangling, my feet would only be one floor away from the ground. Trying to do this in my dressing gown, and nothing else underneath, was a task in itself.
“I can do this,” I thought to myself. As I did, I pushed away from the wall. The free fall from the room appeared to happen in slow motion. I landed on both feet and let out an almighty scream of pain. Falling backwards, onto my bottom, both hands also took the impact. The pain as I hit the ground was incredible. I looked at my feet, and my right foot was facing the wrong way. No blood, no bruising, just a foot bent backwards and facing the completely wrong direction for a right foot. My dressing gown was wide open, revealing all and sundry.
Mr Williams opened his bedroom window and shouted down to me, “Are you ok Aaron?”
“Yeah,” I disguised the pain in my voice. “Tripped over. I've sprained my ankle, I think.”
He just stared at me. I didn't say anything else, “It looks more than a sprain to me.”
“No honestly, I'm good,” I said, recovering my dignity and hobbling into the house.
The nursing home chair had never looked so inviting. I eased myself into it and examined my right foot which was flopping about.
“Oh boy,” I said to myself. It made me feel sick to see my foot attached to my leg but dangling around loosely. Then I remembered what Metatron had told me about healing.
Without thinking, my body began to glow. I looked at my deformed right foot. The pain I had was disappearing. I could feel it exiting my body. It was like squeezing a spot and getting the puss to the surface. Without any signs or pre-warning, my foot suddenly sprung back into the correct form. I wiggled my toes and did a rotation of my foot from left to right. At that moment, Mr Williams came running around and was banging on the back gate.
“Are you ok, Aaron? Do you need an ambulance?” He continued knocking on my back garden gate. I got up from the chair and walked around towards him. No pain, nothing. I could fully weight-bear as if nothing had happened.
I opened the gate and told Mr Williams that I was fine, he wanted to see my ankle and foot, “Let me see. Let me see!” he said persistently.
“I'm ok, honestly look,” I said as I wiggled my foot around. “I must have dislocated it, but it's gone back into place now.”
“Aaron, you have been fortunate,” he said. “That could have been a lot worse. Are you sure you're ok, can I get you anything?”
“I'm fine honestly, but thank you,” I assured him as I ushered him out from the closure of the gate and shut it behind him. “I'm going to the shops later,” I shouted over the gate. “If you need anything, drop me a note.”
I clicked the kettle for a hot coffee and wondered how I got on the roof of my house. I have had some wonderful experiences lately, but this one was not one of them. The coffee was refreshing and gave me the morning kick that I needed. The only explanation I could think of is that I projected myself out onto my roof during my sleep. Or that I went through the ceiling and roof. Metatron did say that I could walk through material objects.
I looked at my foot again. I just couldn't believe it. This was the best thing ever. I'd never had a broken bone before. Seeing the dangling foot, dislocated or broken, then seeing it spring back to normal, I couldn’t help but smile.
“This is happening to me. This is happening to me,” I repeated to myself shaking my head.
Finishing my coffee and heading upstairs, I thought again about how I ended up on the roof. I laid on my bed, looking up at the ceiling.
I relaxed my mind and took some deep breaths in and out. I concentrated on the ceiling. I thought to myself, “Right, let's do this, let's go to the ceiling.”
I couldn't see the gold aura surround my body, but I could feel it. Always the same feeling. The feeling of my cells waking up. I felt the bed, beneath me, leave me. It felt as if I was falling as the bed pulled away. I was floating upwards to the ceiling, and I had to reach out with both my hands to prevent myself from hitting it.
I was on the ceiling, hands pushing away so my face didn't hit it. My toes bent resting on the surface. I closed my eyes and felt the ceiling on my fingertips. I could feel the ceiling as if it was alive. Its molecules felt like they were dancing around me, like pins and needles. My golden aura permeated the surface of the ceiling around my fingertips and extended outwards like ripples of smoke. My hands slid through the ceiling, beginning at my fingers, right up to my knuckles. I pulled both hands out fast. This was weird, weirder than flying, weirder than transporting myself to work, and even more bizarre than my foot healing on its own. It was strange to me. It felt more unnatural than any other skill I had acquired.
Slowly I placed my hands on the ceiling again, and the golden aura spread out over the surface as my hands seeped through, this time to my wrists. I let it continue up to my elbows, and then I just decided to go for it.
I closed my eyes and took a big deep breath as if I was about to dive into a cold pool. I could feel my body as it went through the ceiling. It felt like I was walking through different layers of mud. I could feel the plaster's different density, the wooden floorboards, and then the thickness of the insulation.
I opened my eyes and the golden glow was fading from out of my body. Soon I was in darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I could see daylight breaking through tiny holes in the roof where the tiles overlap each other. I was in my roof space.
At least I know how I got up here now. The golden glow was still emanating out of my body. I could make out the latch to my loft access. Lowering the ladders, I came back down the regular way. As I made my way down the ladders, it occurred to me that I could easily have floated or flown down from the rooftop earlier. Instead of dangling, falling, and breaking my foot, and then showing all of myself to Mr Williams.
I made my way back to my bed and laid on it. I remembered back to Brandon at the hospital, showing me the video of me materialising out of thin air. I hoped that he had deleted it.
Grabbing my iPhone, I went to the YouTube app. I typed in Brandon's video's title. 'appearing man'. It populated a list of videos, none from Brandon's channel. So I typed in Brandon's full name 'Brandon James', and his channel popped up. His face in the profile with two thumbs up at the camera. His latest video was four weeks old. Thankfully, he’d deleted the offending video.
I went back to the search bar on YouTube out of curiosity, and the words I had typed were still there, 'appearing man'. The top video in the search was posted ten hours ago. I clicked on it. It was a grainy webcam recording of the sea in Brighton titled, 'Brighton's Sunset Webcam' and in brackets '(unexplained appearing man)'. It had already had 21,000 views.
“Shit.”