Being dead is going to take some getting used to. According to earth time this would be day three of my so called death. I keep looking down on North America, I guess it's still home to me for the moment anyway. Well, to make a diary note shorter, once seen is enough, and so it was a good visit, but I must learn how to control it. It is like going to the Rocky Mountains or possibly I could qualify it to equal the Badlands in South Dakota, going back there back and forth like a yoyo. But again, once seen, that is enough, unless this kind of thing is your thing, and it is not my thing by far: I mean, I'm only on day three, and this is what you get. I think that area is best for campers, not me. I'd prefer hotels, but I suppose you don't need them out here. The more I think of it, something is missing. Oh well, I'll investigate. Now it's becoming evening time over Minnesota (where my wife lives, Rosa), the sun is going down.
Morning time in Minnesota, the sun is coming up, I got an inkling, I got to go back to see how my little wife is doing, Rosa. I know for a few hours after I died, she was upset, crying, hysterical. I didn't know what to do for her, she couldn't see me, and I did not know how to communicate with her other than trying to set a mood, by way of producing calmness about her immediate space: prayer helped.
She got me to the hospital, and I know I was getting better, a heart attack I heard them say. Then she stayed overnight, and I died in the middle of the night, she had fallen to sleep. I was happy about that, happy because she was so tired: everyone thought I was in a coma, but I was really between life and death, a new kind of order they didn't anticipate, one that is dreamy like, a stage before death, one you can see about you, hear sounds and sense people, but cannot talk, it is not a coma, although folks think it is, or could be, it is in-between where you touch the hand of Christ, but cannot feel it, only see it, and where your pores are filled with the light of God. Then I died, and got sent here, not sure for how long though.
That little Inca wife of mine just cried and cried, and hugged me, I wanted to comfort her, but she'll have to go through it like me someday,Lord willing I'll be there to comfort her.
Anyways I am now in my old house, hovering about. She's got my urn next to my mother's, she had me cremated today. She's crying again. I wonder if I can somehow let her know I'm here, and all right. Now, she is sitting in my big sofa chair in the living room, tears are still coming down. Let's see if I can do something to let her know I'm present. I'll make noise like walking on the floor, footsteps, not too creepy, just light enough for her to know I am with her. But how do I do that, I don't weigh anything?
Middle of the Night
Got a new idea, I'll enter her dreams, slowly, if this is possible, and I heard the nightmare demon can do it all the time, unless you pray for them not to. Therefore, why cannot a good spirit like me do it? That of course a question for me, one I'll answer by trying to do, what I'm not sure I can do.
I'm not sure how you do it, but I got a sense of how will come—I'll sit by her and just whisper in her ears, and try to create a sense of me, and she will picture me, and I will let her know all is well: "Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, Rosa..., all is well, I love you, always have, it is me, I'm all dressed in white, I'll be waiting for you and we'll travel around the world, no, better yet, around the worlds, and into new galaxies."
She sees me, visualizing me says, in her dream world (I hope she remembers and writes it down): "...yes, yes, I DO see you," she says.
"I'm fine Rosa, I'm doing OK, I miss you and I'll be around should you need me, just call on me. Like my mother used to do, remember how she kept us from the fire?"
She's crying in her sleep, says: "...no, no don't go."
"But I can't stay too long; it takes too much whatever it is, energy and like the bee, remember the bee in the bottle, he lost his energy to fly, then he could hardly walk trying to climb that glass bottle, then I set him free and he nourished himself in the grass, and he regained his power, and flight, and flew away; perhaps for another day."
She went back to sleep, she's stop crying. She's breathing better now. I think she'll remember this dream as more realistic than non-fiction, I hope.