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Chapter Six

A Jehm Among Gems

For years I’d written stories for my own pleasure, penning them and placing them in folders tucked away in drawers, until the year I watched some re-runs of my favourite eighties television series, Beauty and the Beast. Through these I found that the UK fan club for this show was less than 20 miles from where I live. I wrote off immediately and joined the club and began writing stories for the fans incorporating the beloved Beauty and the Beast characters. This is known as fan fiction writing. These stories I uploaded to my website where fans could read them at leisure.

During my time as a fan fiction writer, I ghost wrote for fans who had ideas for a story but lacked the time or skill to put them together. This became quite successful and the originators of those stories were thrilled with the content I’d turned out and of my attributing the story to them. I also placed all these stories into what is known as a fanzine and donated it as a fundraiser for Beauty and the Beast conventions, in order that fans could, as we say, in Beauty and the Beast terms, ‘keep the dream alive.’

This impressed upon me that some people while having a gift for creative writing, simply found that time prevented them from following through on it and bearing this in mind, I was always on the lookout for other would be writers that I could help spearhead into action.

My first co author we will say little about, it started well, but an unfortunate turn of events caused my family and I a great deal of distress due to the selfish attitude of that particular writer. I was rather put off the idea of helping any other writers after such a bad experience. However, I carried on conversing with various writers through online writer’s clubs and gradually came to realise I had been unlucky. Generally speaking co-authors did not harass for upfront payments did not threaten when none were forthcoming and did not issue blackmail demands on unwritten agreements. However, I did learn one very basic and very important point, if I ever took on a co author again, no matter how nice they appeared, I would insist on a contract between us stating exactly who has what percentage and when and how, and have that contract witnessed and signed by an independent unrelated third party.

However, I was not looking for a co-author the day I stumbled upon one.

I’d been researching for information in an online chat room having the notion of writing a story about people meeting through chat rooms. With my husband and I having met as pen-pals and knowing of two couples who married after meeting online, I thought I could write a decent romantic story. It was while I was chatting and asking for people to tell me of their experiences that I began talking to a gentleman who had drafted a story he had entitled Jehm and had toyed with over the last 26 years lacking the motivation that he could turn it out as a published book.

Intrigued as always, I asked to read his story, and loving what I found, encouraged him to get it typed up and published. I’m not quite sure how it came about, but during the course of our conversations the question of co-authoring cropped up.

I thought it over for all of ten seconds, and jumped at the chance. I believe in the story and hope it will be successful. Though for me at that time, this was a story that had been in another person’s head for a quarter of a century, so what hope had I of coming to grips with the characters and the plot in the few short months it has taken to put Book 1 together? As it happened, we eventually decided he should write it solo.

However, before that decision was reached, I knew I had to research in order to add valuable input to the story, but was unsure of where to begin. I knew of course that this is a fictional story, but I have always maintained that alternative information bulking out a fictional story should have its roots firmly planted in fact.

Various aspects of Jehm intrigued me. It spoke of other dimensions, spirit creatures, portals and Guardians. Thus along with my co author, we each set ourselves a specific task to fill out the story with the particular plot we had chosen for Jehm Book 1, The Awakening. He, that is, Stan Stevens, Jehm’s creator and author chose to research Wicca and as I wasn’t sure where to begin, I just surfed the Internet until something jumped out at me.

I put the words Guardians, portals and dimensions into search engines and went from there. Very soon I had dozens of different websites to peruse, and it was while reading through some, that a strange word met my eyes.


I had never seen this word before, and intrigued I forgot everything else and pursued it with a hunger as though starved. Discovering charkas led me to the web of life, and on to Shamanism, to power animals and from there to white magic, Wicca and finally to crystal healing and Reiki.

With the exception of crystal healing those subjects were not easy for me to accept, since as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, as I was then, I had been taught that these things have their roots in paganism and satanic worship. Some subjects therefore worried me, however, I felt compelled to have an open mind and explore. This was, after all, only research for a book, I wasn’t actively going to change my life and pursue these things.

How wrong would I be?

I did the unthinkable! I ordered a meditation CD by Dr Doreen Virtue, on Chakra cleansing, and while this led to my decision to disassociate myself from my faith as a Jehovah’s Witness, it also led me to discovering and coming to know on a personal basis the Guardian Angels that have been with me since the day I was born. Thus the purpose of this book you now hold in your hands is to highlight facts that will help you, like me, to believe and accept your own angels into your life.

Our angels have much to impart, and I know you will be amazed as I have been how easily and from the comfort of an armchair no less, that is without lifting a finger to help, all of us can contribute to the healing of our earth simply through our positive thinking. Yes, we all possess the ability to heal, to heal each other and the earth. The greatest most important truth I have ever learned is this: We are not humans with a spirit inside of us we are in actuality a spirit within a human host.

That said, once a person accepts this fact, all the rest becomes easy.

Thus for all my journey to where I am now, to me, Jehm was the trigger that brought it all together, through researching a book, I discovered angels and how they can help, I discovered that yes, I do have the ability to heal, but then so do we all, and I discovered that I am a light worker within a human host and that now is the time for me to be reminded of my quest. Interestingly, Jehm book one is entitled The Awakening, which when you think about it, is rather apt. Suddenly I had been awakened to many truths I never knew existed.

I’ve discovered why we have soul mates, and why they are connected, I’ve learned about pods and Godheads, chakras and the third eye I’ve learned how the future of mankind and the earth is dependable upon negative and positive thought forms. I’ve learned how to mediate and connect with my angels. I’ve seen angels and felt them close, I’ve called upon them and received instant help, I’ve accepted them into my life and been blessed and I’ve received and continue to receive all the answers to my endless questions, and trust that there is nothing that will ever be withheld me while I have the faith to believe.

Another thing, that chance meeting with Stan Stevens was no ordinary meeting. We believe now, from what we have read, that before both our souls arrived here in human form we had mapped out the life we have now. That is we had made prior arrangements to meet one another here on earth when the time came and that each would need to be reminded of the destiny we had set for ourselves before we were born.

You see while talking to one another via online chat what we noticed most at first was that whatever we spoke about as we typed and sent a comment to one another we spoke almost word for word the same thing. We laughed at this and set ourselves tests, and always, yes, we spoke the same thing at the same time. Not only this, but we developed a psychic connection with one another that was disconcerting at first to say the least, for we knew one another’s feelings.
To us this was both odd and intriguing and we set about asking the question why.

Not only that but his birthday is the day after mine and though four years apart I clearly remember the day after my fourth birthday when I fell over and cut my left cheek and still bear the scar. This was the day he was born.
Plus in my growing up years my dad, whose name was Stephen was always working on cars with our neighbour Stan. Most weekends my mother would make them a cup of tea and shout in the direction of the garage, “Stan, Stephen, Tea!”
Okay, so many people could argue that is just coincidence, but it was one of the things that pricked at my memory when I learned my co-author’s name.

Then oddly, and I don’t know why this is, but where I live the surnames Tunnard and Stevens go back a long way, with cottages named after them. But then again I guess its kinda odd that my husband and I shared similar surnames Tunnard and Veryard. I don’t believe these things are coincidences, but rather are given to remind us of the path we set ourselves before we incarnated into this life.

However if those experiences weren’t enough to convince us, Stan and I both remembered that four years earlier we had met briefly when I was dropping off my daughter at her friend Sarah’s who lived four doors from Stan and he happened to be out walking his dog Gyp while I was standing at her garden gate, and we actually spoke to one another. This then in my mind sealed the notion that we were destined to meet and perhaps it would have been back then if we had spoken longer. At any rate when you think about it, thanks to interaction with him through his story of Jehm, both of us discovered and connected with our angels. Not only that but via a natal chart it was revealed to me by my friend Deborah Pickstone that where I am now in the stream of time, I am exactly on target. Therefore, coincidence not, what has occurred was destined to occur at this moment in my life.

For Stan and I we will never look back, although having nudged one another back to our pre-destined path, we have drifted apart now both being called in different directions, he to spiritual fiction and me to spiritual non fiction. Our meeting was obviously a back up plan that we made before we incarnated into this world just so we didn’t lose sight of what we came here to achieve.

I am intrigued to know exactly what that plan was, certainly I feel blessed and capable of writing books and talking to anyone who will listen to my unfolding story and the discoveries I am making. Angel cards that I draw reveal to me that I have a bond with children and animals and that my destiny involves communication and the arts. I happily and readily accept those things without any worries. I foresee myself standing before a large gathering talking of what has happened to me, and all I have learned through reading and personal experience. I do not find this prospect daunting at all. Maybe that’s why whenever in the past I have been among any audience for any reason whatsoever, I have always opted to sit in the front row. Being out at the front doesn’t worry me at all, in fact I prefer it, there’s more legroom and no one to obscure my view.
Whatever my soul plan was, the angels are reminding me, and for whatever reason my soul chose this journey remains to be seen. All I know is that I am happy and that in turn sends positive thoughts out to the universe.

This book, Float, is inspired of angels. For once in my life my co-authors are angels, and with these I do not need a signed contract. I believe utterly that this book will be one among others that will help thousands of people come to recognise and accept the angels in their life, and through the advice given within these pages, readers will send out positive thought forms so that finally, the earth we reside on can be as beauteous and perfect as God intended.

Stan taught me to think outside of the box, and with the trust I gained by following that advice, I am where I am today. The future is bright and filled with sunshine and angels.

I'm really happy that the souls of Stan and I arranged to meet again at this time and that somehow as we are we both recognised the significance of that meeting.

*** *** ***

Chapter Seven

Sixth Sense

It is reasonably isolated where we live and we love it. I’m not one for crowds and if I want them I can find them in town, but its wonderful to know that I can escape to the country anytime I wish.

All around my house are fields, and there are several farm tracks suitable for walking and enjoying being close to nature. There are many varieties of birds here and we are on the migratory path for birds passing overhead and stopping here to rest awhile.
There is also a host of other wildlife, foxes, rabbits, hares, hedgehogs, squirrels, deer and badgers to name but a few. Walking is pleasant, and one is never sure what delights one might see. Before my children started school I took them out whenever possible to teach them about the flora and fauna and one particular October afternoon saw the three of us and our Lassie collie Cindy walking down an old farm track viewable from the from of our house.

We had fun at first collecting conkers and walnuts and stuffing our pockets with them before walking further down the farm track.

We were happy, nothing untoward to make me feel uneasy, we were enjoying the walk, and throwing a ball for the dog, a tranquil family outing, providing good memories for all.

To this day I do not know what alerted me to danger, but I looked up and watched a light blue saloon car coming along the road that passed by our house. Though I could not see the driver, I just ‘knew’ he intended us harm. The fellow stopped the car at the foot of the track, turned off the engine and alighted the vehicle to stride purposefully in our direction.

Where we were, surrounded by fields, nowhere to hide or run, we were vulnerable. And I reacted instantly. Acting as though I had not seen the tall red headed man coming toward us I lifted my daughter up into my arms and looking toward my house I told her loudly, ‘wave to daddy.’

Out of my eye corner I saw the man falter. Happily unaware, my daughter was shouting, ‘DADDY!’ Quickly joined by my son who wanted me to lift him up to see daddy too.

The thing is neither of them could see daddy no matter how high I lifted them for simply, their daddy was inside the house. And even had he of been in the garden we would not have seen him. There was only one place we could see him from where we were, and that would be if he were on the roadside weeding the verge. However, the red headed man didn’t know that.

As he faltered, he looked to where I was pointing for the benefit of my children, and peering close and seeing no one he advanced on us.

Looking back I cannot believe how unfazed I was. I could feel animosity and danger oozing from this man from a hundred yards away, yet I calmly took control of the situation, and started waving to my ‘invisible’ husband as though he were there. Not only waving but I also started shouting and holding a conversation with Mr Nobody.

“What!” I called. “Speak up!”

I enrolled the children in the game, “Ask daddy to speak up.” I said.

They shouted at the tops of their voices, “Can’t hear you, daddy, speak up.”

What amazed me was that they hadn’t shouted, ‘Where? I can’t see him’, or ‘daddy’s not there.’

I continued to shout to my imaginary husband, finishing with, “Oh, stay there, we’ll come back.” Then speaking loud enough for the fellow to overhear told my children, ‘Let’s go back and see what daddy wants.’

At this I saw the man stop and look over toward our house. Then with a long lingering look our way, he turned on his heels and went back to his car, started it up and drove off down the lane, going by our house. (Do you know it’s only just dawned on me that when he drove by our house he would see that there was nobody outside!)

However, relieved he had gone, we continued with our walk.

We walked maybe another dozen yards or so, when I looked up and saw he was returning.

This time he meant business, he slammed his car door shut and marched toward us, long strides swallowing up the ground quickly. Frantically I tried the old game again, calling to my invisible husband, but the man never even slowed. He was just a few yards from us when suddenly he stopped and looked down the lane. A car was coming, drove to the top of the track and stopped.
The red headed man turned tail and hurried back to his car. I watched him drive to the top of the lane and stop as before, but by this time I’d had enough, and hurried home forcing my children to run before the man returned again.

We’d been home and were relating the incident to my husband when there was a knock at the door. It was Malcolm, one of our neighbours. He was handing me a piece of paper and telling me, ‘that man… here’s his car registration number. I thought he was acting suspiciously and I heard you shouting so I followed him. If I were you I’d call the police. He’s parked up on the marsh bank. I’ll go back and keep an eye on him and let you know if he goes elsewhere.”

So I called the police, and they came reasonably quickly too, strangely enough, and they went up to the marsh bank and spoke to the fellow and returned to me to say, ‘Madam, he was only looking for somewhere to take a leak. He’s on a day trip from Nottingham and was bursting. We think you let your imagination run away with you.’ They made me feel very small and they were obviously amused. Even when I explained that where he had parked his car there was a derelict shed and he could have had a wee there, they just looked through me and I felt as though they were saying I’d wasted police time, and I felt humiliated.

However, Malcolm believed me, and he made some enquiries of his own. He discovered that all the previous week, the same car with the same driver had been seen lurking in the area watching neighbourhood children at play. Though he had made no advance toward them, we all believed that had any children been singled out from the main group he would have been there to grab them.

This man had pulled the wool over the eyes of the police – they believed his story and they disbelieved a mother’s intuition. This experience left me disillusioned about the police force who I felt should have been more alert to what I was telling them while at the same time I was thankful that sixth sense and some angels I didn’t know I had around me back then had alerted me to the fact that this man meant trouble. I know now, that while angels do not intervene in our affairs unless asked they will gladly act when they sense danger toward us, so please, never forget that should such a thing occur to you then your gut feeling is always, always to be trusted and you should work in accordance to how you feel.

Never forget this, for your life and the lives of those you love could depend upon it.

*** *** ***

Chapter Eight

On The Wings of Angels

I have to admit that walking out alone was marred for me by that experience. Back then as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses I believed that Jehovah God had protected me on that occasion but I also believed that one should not place one’s hand in the fire just to prove it can be burned. Therefore I felt that placing myself in isolated areas of risk should be avoided at all costs. Thus for the next seven years I refused to go out for a walk unless with another adult.

One beautiful summer’s evening though, I decided to risk it. The children were in the house with their dad, and as Cindy had died we had two new dogs by then, two red and white border collies, mother and daughter, Megan and Sindy. I’d taken up jogging again, and decided to jog from the other end of the track with the dogs.

This was no easy task, the dogs had tripped me up on more than one occasion, but I’d worked out that I could successfully jog while they had their noses down a rabbit hole, and could slow to a walk when I heard their collar tags jingling behind me, knowing they had caught up.

The sun was setting as we entered the track and we were a couple of hundred yards down when I noticed the glare of the setting sun sparkling on something tucked away behind the only tree along that part of the track.

As I looked I thought I could make out the shape of a vehicle, and immediately alerted I stopped walking to gaze at it. A strange feeling washed over me. If I carried on walking I would have to go past the car, and while the occupants may have been lovers, they so easily might be someone else. I thought perhaps they could have been burglars checking out a nearby house. Taking no chances I decided to turn back and calling to the dogs we headed for home.

I didn’t look back but when I heard the sound of an engine I started to jog steadily. My heart pounded, I felt definitely uneasy, and filled with foreboding I quickened my pace.

As the sound of the approaching car grew louder I ran faster, and for once, and the only time it ever happened, the two dogs ran either side of me, not criss-crossing my path once. I then heard shouts from behind, rowdy and jeering, and I ran faster.

Suddenly gunshot rang out, then another and another. Bullets landed in front of me causing little pockets of dust to fly up from the path below. They were shooting at me! Terrified I ran harder and faster than I had ever ran in my life, amazed at how fast I could go! It felt as though my feet had wings, the strides were effortless, the ground passing beneath me as though untouched, truly I hardly felt my feet hit the earth. With the dogs staying at either side of me like shields, the three of us flew!

We reached the road and the jeering increased, and in expectation that on the highway the car would overtake me, I was surprised when instead they drove up onto a field and began driving in circles firing indiscriminately as they went.

I saw now that the car was an emerald green mini with a large white stripe over the bonnet and up onto the roof and back down on to the rear. I did not see the occupants but I felt there were at least two of them. I started to run looking back from time to time to see them continuing to drive in circles jeering and shooting all the while obviously they were either drunk or on drugs.

I ran into the house and called the police. They promised to come out straight away. It was three hours before they did. By then the car had gone, and again it seemed to me that the police didn’t believe me. The worst of it this time was that there had been no independent witnesses and the dogs couldn’t speak.

However, once again, God had saved me, and now I know without a shadow of a doubt that I had been carried to safety on the wings of angels, because no matter how often I’ve tried I have never been able to run as fast or as far without tiring as I did that evening.

Truly the angels had saved me again!

*** *** ***

Chapter Nine

Looking Back


Once I had appreciated that angels had saved me in those situations, I began to remember other occasions when they’d done likewise.

I was seventeen when I met Howard Howells. It was a holiday romance, but within one week we loved each other and Howard had asked me to marry him. We weren’t stupid though, and decided that we would write to one another for the next year and assuming we still felt the same in a year’s time we would begin to make some definite plans.

Howard was one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. Kind hearted, sincere and BIG! He reminded me of a gentle giant, broad shouldered and over six feet tall, he had to duck to enter our caravan door and seemed to fill the small compartment that featured for a kitchen.

He was hopelessly romantic, and a week younger than me, we shared the same birth sign, Libra and in many respects we were very much alike. I used to love it when from where he lived in Brightlingsea Howard would row over in a little boat to where we were staying at St Osyths, near Clacton to collect me and row me back to his home town to take me out in his car.

We were interested in the same music, among them The Everly Brothers, The Righteous Brothers and Buddy Holly. I was thrilled when he would substitute my name for other names in songs, and his special tribute to me was A Groovy Kind of Love. This became our song, and it still brings tears to my eyes whenever I hear it.

Howard was a builder’s apprentice and spent a great deal of time describing the house he would build for us, and for our son and our daughter when we had them.

I never met his parents but he spoke of them often, and of the sister who had died when she was two years old rendering Howard the only child left in the family.

One afternoon we drove into Clacton and decided to go and see the dolphin show on Clacton pier. We arrived early, and sat in the car happily kissing, caring little that the time for the show was drawing close. Finally we reluctantly unravelled ourselves and walked onto the pier hand in hand and joined the diminishing queue.

When we drew level with the ticket office a man announced, ‘I’m sorry but there are only three seats left and there is no standing room.’ Howard and I looked behind to see a small boy with his parents looking decidedly disappointed and feeling for them we opted that they should jump the queue, take our place and we would return to the evening performance at 7pm.

Thus we went back to the car and then spent the afternoon with friends.

It was only later as I was getting ready to meet Howard for the evening Dolphin show that my parents and I were shocked to hear on the 6pm news that Clacton pier had caught fire that afternoon, and many people in the dolphin auditorium had been killed in a fireball.

Howard and I were stunned, and we spoke at length on how lucky we were, and how someone up there must like us. The usual mindless chit-chat when people are in shock. Most of all the little boy’s face kept haunting me, and I hoped with all my heart that he and his parents had escaped. Howard and I felt so responsible – that should have been us!

I don’t know and I’m not sure about this, for time and unforeseen occurrence befall us all, but after that experience and those I’ve encountered since, and before it became clear to me, I feel I’m here for a reason not yet perceived. Certainly I’ve had many escapes from danger and death, just scraping by unscathed. Poor Howard wasn’t so lucky.

After my riding accident with Biscuit and almost a year to the day of our meeting, Howard was killed in a car crash. He’d been ferrying a couple he’d met in a pub only that evening to their hotel, when a drunk driver in a sports car smashed them into a brick wall. Howard and his two passengers died instantly, while the drunk sustained a broken leg.

My heart went out to Howard’s parents who had now lost both their children, and I wrote to them constantly after Howard died. Five years later however, Howard’s father Jack was killed when soil from a ditch he had been digging out collapsed in on him. Two years after that Howard’s grandmother fell down the stairs and broke both her legs. I continued to write to his mother, May, but in time our correspondence fizzled out and when she moved house we lost touch.

One of the things I remember most about Howard’s death was the day I’d heard about it. Anita, a friend who had first introduced the two of us, was working in a fish and chip shop. I hadn’t heard from Howard for three weeks, but by then that was sort of expected. Our relationship had waned a little with the year’s separation and I had met someone else. Still, true to our promise I’d arranged to meet Howard at the campsite to decide how we felt about one another and what we might do about our future – we had told no one of our plans not even Anita or her boyfriend Alan; Howard’s best friend.

With several hours to go before Howard could row over in his boat from Brightlingsea to where I was staying at St Osyths, I went to visit Anita in the chip shop. She was pleased and surprised to see me, and standing there watching while she served someone, I heard her say, ‘Have you heard about Howard?”

“No,” I replied laughing, “What’s he done, now?”

“He’s dead.” She told me. “Killed in a car crash about three weeks ago. I would have thought his mum would have notified you.”

Really I do not know how I got out of that shop. I know I stumbled out into the sunshine, and I remember finding myself at the top of a hill and collapsing onto a wooden bench that had a plaque in memory of someone. I stayed there a long, long time, too numb to cry, think or feel a thing. It was then that I saw it. The sky was blue and cloudless, except for six little puffs of cloud that each spelt a letter H-O-W-A-R-D.

I sat on that bench head craned back as far as I could in order to stare at the name in the sky until the clouds evaporated. It remained a long time. I imprinted it in my memory having no camera with me to take a photograph. I can bring it to mind and see it still. I did not imagine it. I’d looked away and rubbed my eyes that first time, and found it again when I opened my eyes. It was the first time I let myself wonder about life after death.

I am now convinced more than ever that Howard sent that sign in the clouds, and that part of him is with me still.

Plane Crash

In stark similarity to the queue for the dolphin show, years earlier while on holiday with my parents at Jaywick, near Clacton, my parents, brother and I had been queuing for a ride in a light aircraft.

When it came to our turn, the pilot announced that he had an appointment to make, and that he could only really take out one more group that afternoon and that he had room only for three passengers. Pop opted to stay behind, telling us that we three should go as he had been in an aeroplane in the war and knew what it was like. For some reason he had not been precognitive that day, but though my mum, brother and I had been so excited to go on the aeroplane, my mum announced, ‘let’s not leave daddy on his own, we can come back tomorrow.’

Reluctant we children argued, but mum was adamant, and quickly allowed the family of three in the queue behind us to take our places to stop our cries of disappointment.

My parents pacified us with ice cream and we soon forgot about the plane, in expectation we would fly in it the following day.

Later that evening though, just as would happen years later when Clacton pier caught fire, my parents heard the news on the radio. A light aircraft had crashed killing all its passengers and pilot. When my parents looked into the details they discovered to their horror, that it had been the exact aeroplane that we should have been on!

Cut off by the Tide

When I was fifteen, my parents booked a family holiday at St Austell in Cornwall. The twelve-hour drive was undertaken at night and we had arranged to meet my dad’s brother Ron, his wife Ivy and daughter Jill and his wife’s sister’s daughter, Lorna at the campsite. We actually met on Dartmoor thanks to a sheep that was hogging the road, but that’s another story.

The beach near where we were staying was at the foot of some cliffs, and we had to trudge down many stone steps to reach it. There were several beaches inside bays each bordered by a stonewall that jutted out into the sea.

Lorna and Jill could swim, I couldn’t, and so the two of them kept me company on the beach sunbathing.

One afternoon we all woke to find that the sea had come in while we had fallen asleep on the sand and frantic we realised that we had been cut off by the tide. We tried to climb the walls only to discover this was impossible, they were far too slippery. However Jill could tell that by the way the tide was coming in, that the next bay would still be dry and as long as we could get into it pretty quickly we would be safe.

We found a hole channelled through the stonewall into the next bay, however I’d always been big for my age, weighing eleven stone at age eleven, and now at fifteen, squeezing through that little hole was nigh impossible. Still Jill went first and then me, and when I got stuck I imagined drowning in a tunnel under eight feet of stone, and that alone was enough to make me freeze and stop trying to get through as if being stuck wasn’t bad enough. Jill pulled and Lorna pushed and I scraped sand from beneath me until finally they had got me through into the next bay cut and bleeding with clothing ripped and torn.

Once in the next bay however, our hopes were dashed. There were no steps leading back up to the top of the cliff!

Scared sick we searched frantically for a way out of the bay. We tried screaming, but no one heard us, and finally we found an infinitesimal ledge just large enough for our toes to rest on and having no other choice we climbed up onto this and shuffled our way to safety.
This took hours! In that time the tide had come right in and was splashing beneath us, soaking our feet and bodies. The sea was freezing, the day had grown cold and it was getting late.
I was petrified! Lorna and Jill announced that maybe they could swim and find someone to help, but I wouldn’t let them leave me. Their being with me bolstered my confidence, I felt sure I would slip and drown if they left.

Finally we emerged cold, wet and sore from our plight onto a street to the stunned surprise of onlookers who could not believe what had happened to us or that we had survived it. They told us that other stronger people who had suffered similarly had been drowned or had fallen into the sea and been rescued by lifeboats only to die of hypothermia later in hospital.

*** *** ***

These incidents are the ones I remember the most in life, whether there were any others I don’t know, I hope not! However, the most recent time that angels intervened in my affairs was April 18th 2006.

Problems too numerous to mention really got to me that day. A culmination of my father’s death and six months later to the day my mother-in-law’s death amid the trials and tribulations of working through wills and cranky in laws – neighbourhood problems and a misunderstanding with a good friend – well needless to say, I just cracked. Having no tablets in the house I leapt into my son’s car and drove at speed toward Peterborough. It was cold, wet dark and raining and with tears streaming down my cheeks I wanted only to blot out the heartache and the trauma of everything that had gotten on top of me. The only sensibility I had was knowing I wanted to take no one with me, so I was looking for a convenient brick wall to smash into as I sped along the road.

Suddenly the headlights of a lorry were coming toward me, and I swerved and realised I had been on his side of the road. Shocked and shaking I pulled into a car park and sat trembling with fear and disgust!

How could I do such a thing? What of my children? My mum who had recently lost my dad? My husband who had only recently lost his mother? My friends? What would my death do to their lives? I sent some text messages to a friend and received some positive and thought provoking comments in return. I telephoned my mother and spoke with her at length. Then I drove to a quiet, dark lay-by and sat pondering my life.

Strangely, parked there in the dark late at night I was unafraid. That intrigued me. Usually I would have been petrified imagining the man with no meat on would get me, a childhood ‘tale’ of my Uncle’s Chick’s.

Sitting there, I contemplated everything that had happened over the last few months, and slowly began to feel better. I wasn’t depressed and I didn’t need anti depressants. I just wanted to feel appreciated. Suddenly I felt an immense feeling of peace wash through me and I wished to be home. The journey back seemed never ending. I was mentally exhausted, yet at the same time revived! I felt as though that person that made the mad dash to Peterborough had vanished. A new me emerged from that experience, and within days my Guardian angels began to make themselves known to me.

Its been mentioned since that my Guardian angels would have been petrified that night I intended to kill myself. And as this is the only time they can intervene when someone is going before their time, they flew to my side and rescued me.

In so doing they changed my life forever, they left behind a fingerprint that I noticed and examined and accepted for what it was.

I had previously accepted the existence of Guardian angels but did not realise how close they can be to us. After that night I began to feel them around me, and not only had they saved my life once again but this time they truly opened my eyes as well.
The veil had been lifted.

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Chapter Ten

Chase the Dream

Even to me it sounds egotistical to say that I’ve been rescued so many times from death because I hadn’t achieved the goal I was born into this body for. You’ve learned many things about me so far, have I told you that I always felt different? Deep down I’m a loner. I like a few good friends but I am quite happy doing my own thing in my own time, on my own. However, having said that I do tend to cling to some friendships, and this is something my eldest son also has a tendency to do. We cling and beat the life out of a friendship, and I have no answers as to why this is so. If I were to assume however, then I would hazard a guess that the answer lies in my past. Way, way back in another lifetime something occurred whereby I lost someone precious to me. And now through fear of losing special people again, I hold tight desperate to muscle in on their lives, until they feel smothered and only if they are strong enough to withstand this, the friendship fizzles out. Naturally, this had been what I was afraid of all along, and why I clung on so tightly, so its all a bit of a vicious circle really.

Currently I’m reading a book by Dr Brian Weiss entitled ‘Only Love is Real’ telling the true story of soul mates reunited. Soul mates aren’t necessary romantically involved with one another. Oftentimes a soul mate enters one’s life in order to reshape it or to remind a person of the spiritual path they set out on when they left the pod beneath the Godhead. Since we reincarnate over and over, we can meet people from our past lives in future situations. Dr Weiss’ book has reminded me of some memories I have had all my life, that are inapplicable to the life I have now. That is in this lifetime these things have never occurred.

In Dr Weiss’s book, one of his patients, Elizabeth, mentions walking down some white steps that lead from a large building with two pillars on either side. The passage in this book reminded me of a re-occurring dream I used to have. In much the same way as Elizabeth I see a man and a woman walk from a similar building, down twenty or so white steps onto a wide paved courtyard below. The couple separate on the way down the steps, she to the left and he to the right. Whomsoever I am, I don’t know, but I am watching this scene unfold from a distance, and I once thought that this couple had been to court for a divorce and going their separate ways.
Last evening, baring this memory in mind, I asked the angels to reveal more of it to me and then I went to bed. Laying down I closed my eyes and at once images started to build behind my eyelids.

The first thing I saw was the couple leave the building and walk down to the paved courtyard. Then with my gaze fixed firmly on the woman, I watched her walk toward the entrance flanked by a tall privet hedge behind where I am standing and then she is in front of me with several little children, and she is pushing a pram.
One of the children, a boy, aged about three and reminding me of my now son John when at that age, turned to look back and I heard the woman say, ‘turn around don’t look back, don’t look at him.’ I felt this request was not directed at me, but rather toward the other man whom the woman had left the building with.

I don’t know who I am in this memory, or how long ago it was, but the woman is wearing a plain short-sleeved dress, light in colour, floral print and knee length and the man is in dark clothing, possibly a suit. He has black unruly hair and she has shoulder length blonde. If I were to hazard a guess I would say the time would be the very early nineteen fifties plus I am now more than ever convinced that rather than my being the woman as I have always assumed I now believe that I am the man that she is coming toward, and whom she has divorced her husband for.

After angels revealed this memory to me, I saw another. I am recognising now that if I am an observer of the memory, then I am the one standing back and viewing all, just as I was in the out of body experience with Biscuit. Whereas if I am the actual person in the scene I see only the front of myself, my swinging hands as I walk and my legs and feet. I also feel breezes and hear birdsong and can hear myself think.

Another reoccurring dream I used to have of myself is alighting from a vehicle or something on a mountain road. To my right there is a long low white building with steps around the whole of its perimeter. It is one storey high and has two windows each made up of small individual square panes painted black. I perceive this building to be a craft shop. Tall trees flank it with mountains beyond.

To my left the path falls away to a sheer drop to the valley below. Dark green fir trees grow on the mountainside to my right and directly ahead.

In front of me is a sandy coloured track. I am on the side of a mountain where a path has been hewn for travellers and I am walking toward an area where I am in expectation of meeting someone.

I walk maybe twenty yards after leaving the vehicle and my eyes settle on a man sitting on a crag just ahead of me. From my vantage point he appears to be about mid thirties and he looks lonely. He appears to be contemplating his life. I feel anxious and as I approach the place where he is sitting my heart goes out to him. He turns and looks at me, our eyes meet and instant recognition flares between us. He is wearing a white shirt, and laid at his side is a tan suede jacket with fringes along the sleeves.

This man also has a shock of blonde hair a moustache and his eyes are bright blue. I am wearing a plain light coloured outfit, and it feels warm. I can see tan coloured footwear on my feet, and I carry no luggage. In my heart I see this man as my soul mate, a very deep and personal friend, one whom I have great love and affection for.

The only other clue I have surrounding this man, is that his name begins with a G, and it is four lettered. I have concluded that it may be Glen or Greg, and a few years ago I began taking active steps to see if I could find where the place is, just in case the dream was precognitive, then knowing nothing of past lives. Thus I started writing a fictional story on it entitled ‘Chase the Dream.’

I began by asking some questions at an online message board by describing the area seen in my dream. Many people offered ideas, but one lady replied by saying, ‘I know exactly where that is, its in Yellowstone National Park and it begins at the foot of my back yard.’

Armed with this information I started an in-depth Internet search of Yellowstone National Park, looking at hundreds of photographs searching for the appropriate scene, until suddenly there it was, exactly as I’d seen it in countless dreams. It’s located in San Bernardino, California, or to be precise, in a triangle between Lake Gregory, Cedar Glen and Blue Jay. Notice those two names? Glen and Greg? I did, straight away.

However, that is as far as I got with it, the story was never completed, and since that day I have never had the dream again, however…

One afternoon Stan Stevens was talking to me about his love of aircraft and how he favoured flight simulation at an online club. Here apparently he could choose his terrain over which he would fly his plane, and one of his favoured haunts was a sandy coloured mountain covered in fir trees. In fact he revealed that not only did he ‘fly’ over that mountain but all his life he had ‘dreamed’ of sitting on a crag there overlooking a vast expanse, contemplating the affairs of his life and imagining he was awaiting someone who would alter his perspective on life. Not only that, but…would you believe, he doesn’t like his name…and if he were to have a choice he would like to have been named…Glen…

Now this was interesting because as previously mentioned when we used to write via online chat we would often say the same thing at the same time, and had quickly realised that we had some sort of psychic connection. Many times we realised that we were able to ‘feel’ one another’s emotions. It was both pleasant and disconcerting, and certainly intriguing enough for us to want to know more…so…

I began asking some questions.

Through an Online Healer’s Circle I met a lady by the name of Carolyn who deals with past life regression therapy and giving her very little information, Stan and I gave our permission for her to seek her angels advice for us. I told her nothing of what the people in the dream were wearing or their description so her reply was startling.

Hi Wendy,
It has been an interesting week for me with visions, insights, and now regressions. I have just returned from taking you to a past life and here are the details…this description that you gave me of the sandy crag… I was given that the man and woman are two very mature, loving, caring, and devoted people that love one another very much. This is a sad meeting since the woman is telling the young man that she is no longer pregnant, but since they are both so supportive of each other, their combined loss is less severe because of their mutual love of each other. I also see the woman dressed in tan-coloured clothing and has on moccasin like boots with leather straps to keep the upper portion in place. She is wearing heavy clothing with a large belt and some type of cloth over her dress. It appears to be cold with grey skies and perhaps occurring in winter or late autumn. The man is moustached handsome, thin, and blond with blue twinkling eyes, and I must say again, very loving. The woman has her head covered with a woollen like scarf but her hair is the colour of chestnuts and her eyes are brown with green specks and they portray softness, compassion, and love for the young man. This scene, despite the circumstances, is a very warm, tender, and heartfelt moment for these two young people. They have no regrets.

In a different lifetime than the previous one I see a map, but I do not recognize the area, it is too broad and vast a land for me to identify it. It does not look like our maps of today. Oh, and the sea is stormy and crashing not far from the couple and it looks like they probably feel the spray off of the waves. They like it, I can tell from their expressions when looking out to sea, it suits their mood and this is a place they often choose to see each other. It is a desired location for them both. The scene is very loving and that is what I am being impressed with the most. This information is indeed important because it provides a compassionate depth and sincerity needed for understanding and healing. Not a negative thing at all, pure love. These young folks are very powerful, confident and directional in their knowledge of life.

Sending you the good thoughts with best wishes of happiness, joy, and peace.

*** *** ***

I am exceedingly interested in Carolyn’s observations. It appears that rather than my ‘mountain dream’ being of something future it is actually from my past. I was deeply touched and grateful for that which Carolyn discovered and I give thanks to her angels for their revelation.

It came as no surprise to me that Stan and I are soul mates that have been together in past lives. I was intrigued by Caroline’s observation of the two of us being ‘powerful, confident and directional in their knowledge of life’ for this is how we have always felt. Do you remember I told you that I know things without knowing how I know them? When this occurs my conviction is so very strong and Stan, apparently has always felt likewise. What intrigues me now is, what we both planned before we incarnated back to this earth and I look forward to making this discovery. I feel positive that the angels will reveal this to us when the time is right, while for now illuminating one step at a time, until we are sure of our footing and happy to walk forward without a qualm.
Whatever we set for ourselves before we were born I am sure everything is happening exactly as it was purposed to be, unfortunately as with many new friends I smothered the friendship we shared so that we have now gone our separate ways. However, I feel strongly that this too was pre planned and our meeting at this time in our lives was scheduled for one thing only, to remind one another of why we are here, and to get back to whatever it is that we came here to do. We are happy to have met again in this life, however as to love this is reserved for my other soul mate.

Pen Pals

I was seventeen, almost eighteen and as one of the first twelve members of staff for ACCESS our flexible friend, credit card company in Southend on Sea, Essex was enjoying my first ever job after leaving school. Earning just twelve pounds a week, looking back it’s hard to believe how far that money stretched! My train fare, my bus fare, my board and lodging and the rent I had to pay for keeping Biscuit at Frosties Farm on Canvey Island, as well as his upkeep vet and blacksmith fees. On top of this, I still had enough left over to go out to The Goldmine Disco every Friday night and some Saturday’s able to go to a nightclub in Southend-on-Sea called Talk of the South or TOTS as it was otherwise known. Those were the days!
I had a couple of good friends at work, namely Vicky Phillips and Pat O’Grady whose birthdays were the same day as Howard’s, namely October 17th, thus I was one week older than all three.
At this particular time Howard was still alive and I was making plans to see him within the next four months.

During a chat with Pat and Vicky one day we discussed that we didn’t really know how a boy’s mind worked. Did they think like girls? Were they romantic like girls? Or were they only after one thing? What made boys tick?
We decided to find out by writing to some boy pen friends and getting to know them by letter asking over time, all the questions we wanted answers to. The thing was where to find a pen friend? No Internet back then, we scoured certain magazines until I found one with a possible chance – Disco 45, the magazine for the lyrics of pop songs. Thus we wrote out our advertisement sent it off and waited 2 months for it to be included in the list of people advertising for pen friends.

I was astounded when the letters began to arrive. They all came to my address and those for Vicky I took to work for her (Pat had decided not to advertise with us). There were in all, 31 letters for me, from boys all over the country, and even as far as Africa!

Being an avid writer I wrote back to all of them, some had sent photographs and I gazed at these in eagerness.

I’d had a couple of boyfriends by that time, nothing serious nothing lengthy, and I really preferred horses! Now I had all those letters where I could write with ease and ask all my burning questions, and they in turn were eager to answer them!

One evening when I returned home from work, my mum handed me a letter, and I can tell you where I was when I opened it. During correspondence with thirty-one boys since the June of that year, I remembered this one letter over them all, this one NEW letter, number thirty-two, who until that day in August its writer had never written to me before.

I was sitting at the table eating a salad and opening the letter with one hand while I ate a tomato with another, when a black and white Polaroid photograph fell into my lap. I gazed at it in awe. A gorgeous boy, tall with blonde hair, standing beside his own car with a beautiful collie dog, I felt something at that moment. Something I had never felt before, a deep stirring deep within me, as though part of me came to life, and salad forgotten I simply had to read his letter and write back straight away.

Now there was another thing, all my childhood years I had spent playing with a farm set my dad had personally made for me. I loved it. Made from wood this 3 x 3 foot board had little hedgerows all the way around, and sections of lower hedges to separate the fields as well as a glass duck pond. I played with this endlessly, with my plastic farm animals and farmer and his wife, and all kinds of scenes filling my mind of their lives and I vowed I would marry a farmer. So when I received the letter from this new boy telling me he lived on his father’s farm I was more than a little delighted.

A few weeks after writing we met for the first time, and now after thirty-five years together we have been married for almost twenty-five and are blissfully in love and still best friends, but do you know what was really remarkable about this story?

That magazine Disco 45, had pages upon pages of pen friends that particular month, more than ever before, and so when my husband’s friend told him about ‘all these girls looking for a pen friend’ my husband replied, ‘but there’s so many which one should I choose?’

After several attempts at deciding his friend said, ‘I know! Here’s a pin, let’s close our eyes, and wherever the pin lands you choose a girl for me and I’ll choose one for you.’ And that is what they did. Consequently Roy’s pin landed on my advertisement and though Vicky and I shared it, it was me that Richard wrote to. How amazing is that?

A few months ago, I was talking to my astrologer friend Deborah Pickstone and she was checking my natal chart and she confirmed that my husband is in fact another of my soul mates, but of them all, he is the one I should have been with the most. Isn’t that just incredible?

He’s psychic too, and like Pop, Rick knows where ever I am going before I do, even when I am impulsive and decide to go somewhere without too much forethought. I’ll come home and say, ‘guess where I’ve been?’ And more often than not he’ll tell me, just like that.

This past year since I have connected with angels, I have read many books out loud to Rick, and his ‘psychic powers’ as he refers to them, have become stronger, so much so that via Brian Weiss book Messages from the Masters I took Rick through one of the hypnosis past life regression meditations found at the back of the book. What he saw astounded both he and I, as the following chapter will reveal.

Incidentally, do you know what my husband’s favourite pastime was when he was growing up?
Playing with a wooden farm set with hedgerows, duck pond and plastic animals a farmer and his wife, just like me.

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To be continued in Chapter Eleven.