ANGEL ON MY MIND
So what’s this pre-occupation with the angel-kind? Well, I’m at least in ample company, as many folks around the globe, and throughout history, have had some kind of association with what may or may not have been a divine intervention. Yes, just like Jimmy Stewart’s connection with his Guardian Angel, Clarence, in the Christmas-theme movie, "It’s A Wonderful Life." Minus Hollywood embellishments of course. I don’t have an angel obsession but rather a bold, etched-on-the-mind dream remembrance, from childhood, which has stayed sharp and clear for almost half a century. How many of you can remember a dream from two days ago?
Earlier in this blog collection, I wrote about a childhood encounter with an angel. I am one hundred percent sure it was a dream visitation, moreso than a chance meeting in real time, in a real place. I’ve never really felt that I had walked to our meeting because at the point the event occurred, sickness had kept me immobile for almost two weeks. There was a time when I did wonder if I had, in a stupor or a sleep-walk, made it out of our apartment alone in the wee hours. I don’t have any evidence now to support this actuality.
Since my fathers’s passing, in January of this year, I’ve definitely been doing some soul searching, trying to more fully appreciate what the ethereal existence might be like, for those who have crossed over. I do believe the alleged "other side" does exist, not because of any religious instruction (I only went to church for three Sundays as a kid) or anything from my family home that I’ve toted along, as a borrowed belief to this point. Well, there was one thing. My wee audience with what I know was something divine. I have indeed kept this memory alive since childhood. There’s no chance of me shedding it without a catastrophic event first. I’ve written quite a lot about this incident based on the fear I might have some future memory loss. I wanted my family, at least, to know just how strange their pop was! And over the past few months of discontent, I admit finding much comfort in this memory...... recalling the seconds (that seemed like hours) in the company of my heavenly message. Every year of my life since, I’ve had dozens of poignant recalls because of the comfort it provides. It’s just as vivid today as it was in the early 1960's. But it’s more than comfort. It’s one of those ethereal situations that is difficult and somewhat precarious to describe. I don’t want to offend any one by understating or poorly describing the attending angel. I’m not an angel expert. Simply stated, it’s a feeling of elation and that despite our earthy worries, pains toils and tribulations, all is well within the universe.
The odyssey began when I contracted a wicked cold-flu combination that gave me a fever, nausea and a gut-wrenching cough. It was one thing to feel like crap, because of the nausea and sore-all-over feelings, but the cough was so harsh I would throw-up each time the hack commenced. I had to have a bucket at my side constantly. I couldn’t hold anything done even the drugs. I couldn’t lay down so I had to sit up in a chair for days, so as not to choke while coughing and vomiting.
I remember one night my mother showing worry on her face when my temperature started to rise, and the symptoms hadn’t abated by even one smidgeon. She kept putting ice packs on my forehead and washing my face and chest with cold water. I had been seen by our family doctor and he felt it was just a case of riding out the bug. I was pretty sure I was going to die in one of these coughing fits, because it was getting harder to catch my breath after. I was in a fitful sleep and would wake up one moment soaked in sweat, and then another time shivering. It was at this time, in one of these half-slumbers, that I met my guardian angel. I’m still here so the helping hand was substantial.
I can remember being in a basement room in our apartment, with all the lights on, yet there wasn’t anyone down there using the washing machines. My first thought was that the lights were way too bright for the basement, a plain, high ceiling room, I knew so well as an always-exploring kid. It wasn’t a blinding light. It was more of a white glow, like standing within the illumination of a cloud, or mist, versus the yellow hue from something electric glowing from behind a glass fixture. When I looked back at the door that had just closed, I saw in the corner of that room, a full-regalia angel hovering in the corner. I probably didn’t think of it then, as anything particularly divine, because I didn’t understand the concept. I know for sure that I never once told my parents of the encounter. And I don’t remember thinking of the dream visitor as an angel until many years later, when I did learn a little more about these heavenly messengers and protectors. She was composed of the same glow that while intensely bright didn’t force me shield my eyes.....keeping in mind it was a dream. There were angel wings that rounded well above her shoulders and down past her arms. Her hands were clasped together in her lap. There was movement as I watched, as if the apparition was floating on air currents up and down.
In this vivid dream I stood, unable to speak, unwilling to move a muscle, staring up at this most amazing sight. I saw her huge, billowy angel wings, a long, puffy white gown, what appeared to be a halo, a very pale skin tone on her hands and face, blue eyes and a most assuring, calming look on her face. It was my first dream in full color. There were no words spoken by my visitor. I felt shivers for the entire period I was in her company but that most definitely could have been my fever breaking. It was such a wonderful feeling of nirvana, and she was of such radiance and beauty that there was nothing to say but stare in awe of what levitated in front.
At this age I had minimum exposure to television. I had no real knowledge of what an angel might look like. We didn’t even have a nativity scene for our Christmas tree, and I don’t believe we had a single ornament with an angel motif. I don’t believe I could have concocted, via a dream, all that I saw and experienced in that undoubtedly short visitation. Although there were no words actually spoken, I felt restored in health. The aches that had even been part of my dreams for days, were suddenly absent. I awoke with my mother at my side, who told me the fever had broken, (I didn’t know what that meant either) and that the worst part of the sickness was sure now to be over.
I have had many days recently, when I have tried to more thoroughly revisit my meeting with this alleged angel. I would know her face in a split second. I have looked through many books on angels, and religious paintings dating back centuries, hoping to find a similar face, a particular expression I could relate to for reference. Alas there are features of all, part of the face I knew. I can find thousands of parallels in part but not in whole. I have even begun trying to sketch from memory, what she looked like during that sickness induced slumber that provided one of my life-long memories. I have even pondered asking an artist friend to make a few attempts, based on my description, because frankly I have no talent to draw anything let alone an angel. I guess my only possibility is if being touched by an angel gave me some sensory advantage with pen and paper, to depict what I experienced. I’m just not sure what I would say to the artist, so as not to generate any weirdness between us. I’m kind of a controversial guy at the best of times, and expect pensive looks from many of my colleagues when I talk of new projects, but painting an angel from a 50 year old dream? "Ted, you’re a nutter!" Possibly. This was one unearthly encounter however, that parallels the dreams experienced by millions of people over centuries. Mine isn’t all that spectacular. It was nice though as dreams go!
When people I know ask about this old, many-times-told story, I do feel they have a genuine interest in what that might be like.....having an in-person audience with an angel. It’s certainly a minority of our population that can say they had such an intimate meeting, in real time or dream time. They want to know what it felt like, and all I can answer them is that it was a feeling of "safe harbor," and that my visitor made it clear by calm and an imposed solitude, that "I was not finished my journey yet.....and that everything would be well again." On the hour my fever broke, I had experienced a vision of being in company of an angel, who let me know by sensory perception, my life had been extended. Yet the truth is, and it is what I have felt since my father’s death, the greater sensation than restored health in my angelic dreamscape, was a strange enduring sadness that I wasn’t going with her instead. Almost as one would feel a love lost. She had, by her presence alone, removed any fear of an ultimate demise. I was resigned and prepared to touch her robe and turn heavenward at her beckoning, I realize in retrospect, although I wasn’t at all sure then where I might soon arrive.
In moments since, when I’ve been worried about health issues of family members, and well, questing in my mind for the meaning of life, I have come back to that curious visitation in an apartment basement, and truthfully, my fears diminish to a manageable concern from outright fear. It is the reckoning I called upon frequently during Ed’s illness. For those last minutes of life, I told him many times in a low voice, to go to his wife Merle, who was waiting for him on the other side. While visibly altered and non-communicative, he repeatedly held up his arms heavenward to someone or something visible to him. The attending nurse watched the same gestures. I had even mildly admonished my mother Merle, for not showing herself to him sooner, as he was in great distress, and need for comfort beyond what we could provide. He was alive for only a short while after this. Strangely, I had the feeling my angel had returned, as I knew she would, and when I clasped Ed’s hand for the last time, I felt a strange sensation as if another hand had come over-top of ours. But this time, there was no life to spare. It had run out of its time in this mortal coil. There was a peace with this mutual understanding, and parting of ways.
I was saddened by his demise but satisfied he was in a more peaceful, gentle environs, without the pain he had suffered up until the final moments. It was at his bedside for those last minutes that I thought about my own guardian angel, and what her presence in this situation might mean. As I had supposed, for my dad, well, it was time to go, and his journey was now over. It was a calm, warming embrace of belief and affection for all the details of our lives together, and I felt that all was indeed well within the universe.
I am still not a religious man and we are not a particularly religious family by the strict definition of organized religion. But whether we believe in the soul’s ability to cross over, we have felt the evidence clearly enough, to have shed our most significant doubts. I have described my encounter with a guardian angel many times to my wife and lads, because I want them to feel the peace and joy I celebrated way back,...... when a child’s heart and mind were open to all the possibilities of heaven and earth, life and beyond, and the interplay of the spirit-kind upon us all,...... if and when we choose to believe in the dimensions of existence in one form or the other.
I have never related this story for a cent of profit. I could not. I have over a lifetime, felt a great privilege having had this dream encounter. I can not explain why it has stayed fresh in my mind for all these years. I for one, have had great need of my guardian angel, and I’ve never once been abandoned in a time of need.
As a final note of clarification. I have never, despite my keen awareness and study of this childhood dream, been able to beckon my divine visitor to my bedside for a repeat performance. I trust this is due to continuing good health!