“How can you be alive like me?” Paul challenged the unknown entity. “You would have to be doing the same as me at the same time; unless you are me, of course.
Paul did not know where this was leading but drew a sharp breath as the pendulum suddenly surged into a dramatic leftward spin.
The room grew a degree or two colder.
Incredulous and sceptical, Paul almost laughed out loud. He held the pendulum perfectly still and focused on it.
“Am I talking to myself right here and now?” he questioned. Paul could not help but allow a touch of disappointment to enter his whispered, half-spoken words. It was, after all, just him talking to himself in a kind of cathartic release of hidden thoughts and emotions.
But the pendulum had other ideas.
It moved decisively back to the section called Parallel Lives with unerring accuracy. This was not something Paul could have achieved without moving his hand considerably and still he could not have gone straight to the right category.
He paused to consider the implications.
“You mean, I am talking to myself existing in some other parallel universe?” Paul directed the thought.
“Yes,” came the reply.
Paul wracked is brain to try to think of some way in which he could have a meaningful communication with whatever it was he was in touch with.
“Are you happy?” he asked rather lamely.
“No.” The pendulum seemed emphatic about that one.
“Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Do you work in information technology?”
“No.”
“Do you know the secret of the universe?” Paul tried.
“No, no,” emphatically came the response.
Paul was beginning to feel slightly edgy, annoyed and tired. He tried to open his mind to any potential message from his spiritual doppelganger. He sat back letting the evening sun flood the small office, disturbing the dust motes, and allowed himself to feel at one with the light. He could hear the muffled sounds of a muted television from Rory’s room and Annie’s ‘Coldplay’ album issuing from her CD player. Parallel lives seemed a far-fetched notion when set against the here and now. Yes and no answering sessions were interminably slow despite the telepathic communications and despite his earlier optimism Paul knew that Kate would be stirring soon. Some inherent coffee alert system must be in operation in her brain, timed to stir her into life after her early evening nap.
“Are you happy?” the thought suddenly bubbled into Paul’s mind. He had to think about. Ordinarily he would have responded in the affirmative immediately but under these circumstances he could not act from habit. The question unlocked a vault load of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
“Yes, I’m happy in one sense and no, I’m not in another,” he beamed back the answer.
The pendulum circled to a no answer. Was it disagreeing with him? If so it was perceptive, he’d say that for it.
“Are you six feet three with dark hair and a good physique?” Paul put the question.
“No,” came the reply on cue.
A rush of jumbled, half-formed, images came into his mind.
“Are you bald, five eleven and well endowed?”
“Yes.”
Paul was amused. His alter-spirit had a sense of humour.
“Are you aware what’s happening in my world?” asked Paul.
“No.”
“So you are in a parallel universe?”
“No.”
“Maybe you think I am,” said Paul.
“Yes,” spun the pendulum.
A sudden barrage of images swept through Paul’s mind, familiar places and locations, people and friends, politics and governments. As with dreams when vast amounts of information can be understood in a fraction of a second, Paul felt this alternative reality was distinctly sinister.
He felt really tired then. He put down the pendulum and went to make coffee. He decided he’d had enough dowsing for one night. He did feel remarkably lethargic as though he was coming down with something.
It was the next morning when it happened. He was alone in the house. As he was scrolling through a list of new emails, the computer suddenly fizzed and the screen went blank save for a white line down the centre. Paul had never seen this happen before. He switched off and rebooted the system. Then he waited in silence.
“Paul.”
Someone was speaking his name. He jumped and listened. Nothing. It was inside his head.
“Paul.” The voice was insistent, distinctive and individual.
The pendulum was in its little black bag tucked away with the karmic clearance chart. The computer came back online but fizzed out again. Outside, Sabre began to yelp, something he hardly ever did.
Nervously, Paul sat back and waited for what was to come next.
CHAPTER FOUR
Angels within and without
Paul was distracted for a moment and glanced out of the window looking for the source of the voice. He blinked without being aware of it.
“Paul.” The voice was clear.
Paul saw nothing unusual outside his office window. He could his car parked on the gravel drive. It was a warm day with high scudding clouds. It was a perfectly normal day in every respect, except one. He glanced around the office at his mess of papers and files, books stacked on shelves and the computer system humming quietly, switched on but not functioning.
“Yes,” he answered.
“You can blink if you wish to make things easy for you.” The voice had a distinct feel and presence. Paul was reminded of Malone’s comments about knowing you were being contacted by something outside of your mind. This voice was quite clearly outside of his mind. Paul was a rational thinker and tended to analyze as he went along so that he could remain detached and involved with an experience simultaneously. This voice was telepathic. It sounded inside his head just as though he was having a conversation with a friend sitting opposite.
“We have been waiting for you,” said the voice.
“Who are you? Are you from a parallel universe?” Paul asked out loud and then felt embarrassed lest he be overheard. Stupid! He was alone in the office. Still, he answered again inside his head.
“We are your soul group,” the voice replied. “We have cared for many hundreds of thousands of human beings throughout all ages.”
“Who’s we?” Paul asked.
“You can call me your Guardian Angel,” said the voice. “This would be the easiest way to understand who I am. You will come into contact with others, but not yet.”
“And what exactly are you?” asked Paul mentally. “I mean, are you a being, like a person, or something else?”
“We are, what you might describe as, individualities. And yes, we communicate like this in a form you would know as telepathy. But we are not people. However, there are parallels. All human beings are compressed into energy vehicles. We are also energy vehicles but we exist at a higher vibratory level.”
“So, you have some form of ego,” said Paul. “I mean, so that you know who you are.”
“We don’t have egos as you would describe them; more a refined sense of vocation. We have our place within the process.”
“Why are you contacting me?” Paul was starting to feel both foolish and uncomfortable.
“You are now ready, Paul. If we had made contact earlier you would have misinterpreted the contact. You may have thought there was something wrong with your mind.”
“I do think there is something wrong with my mind. Half of it doesn’t believe this is taking place.”
“We would do nothing to harm you, Paul. We are not capable of harming human beings in our care.”
For a moment there was silence. Paul’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what was happening. Was he going insane? He looked at the pendulum lying curled up on his desk. Ever since he had touched that thing weird events had been taking place. How could he possibly know with any certainty if he and his famil
y were being ‘cleared’ of past karmic burdens. Maybe it was just so much hogwash.
“You have been cleared, Paul, but the system is far from perfect,” said Guardian Angel. “There are dangers attached to using the pendulum. Most human beings do not have the sophistication to use it properly. However, it was a necessary step to get to this situation.”
“Supposing I don’t want any more of it?” Paul snapped. “How do I know what you are?”
“I think you can tell who I am, can’t you, Paul? If you do not wish to continue this contact I can withdraw.”
The room felt suddenly chilly. Paul felt curiously bereft. There was nothing there anymore. Also, sadness filled his heart like the opening of a wound. An image of something fleeting passing through his life, a part of him, flashed through his mind accompanied by a feeling of lost opportunity.
The phone rang. Paul jumped nervously. He picked up the receiver.
“Oh, hello, George,” he said then listened for a moment. “It may have something to do with the network.”
The conversation with his client jump-started his normal business mindset. Instantly, angels and wayward spirits were banished back into his subconscious.
Later, he had time to think about the earlier experience. Maybe he should just take it all at face value and not make any judgements. Thinking about the pendulum-linked events, he was convinced that neither had Kate been unfaithful to him nor was Rory a closet gay. But, then again the worm of doubt was ever present. How did he know for absolute certain? There had been other, so-called, revelations. His eldest daughter, Cassie, would appear to have a deep-seated resentment against Kate. Paul couldn’t see it. But then we all played out the dramas of our lives based upon the twin genetic torments of our parents. In a way, he had always been closest to Cassie. She was their first-born and in that sense she was special. And she had had her share of problems, what with the asthma and the allergy intolerances. She lived with her boyfriend three hours away but was still close to her family.
So many of our belief systems, ambitions, paths of destiny and emotional highs and lows were a direct link to our parents’ own lives. This was every human being’s fundamental conditioning. And it held true for all races, religions and creeds.
So, in the end, he could not be one hundred percent sure about anything.
Oddly enough, the brief contact with his supposed Guardian Angel had left him with a thirst that would not be slaked. He thought hard to himself as he took Sabre on his usual early evening walk in the woods.
“Why not?” he thought. Whatever it was seemed to behave itself. It seemed perfectly rational. And, if he was just talking to himself, why didn’t he do it normally in the same way? Why didn’t he wander around talking to his Guardian Angel?
“Because it would mean I had a screw loose, that’s why.” Paul laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing, and yet, it was tempting. The brief contact with whatever it was had moved him in a way he couldn’t quite describe. What harm was there in pursuing it?
“Have you had any thoughts about a holiday?” asked Kate.
“Could be,” Paul answered.
“Bet you haven’t given it a thought, Dad?” said Annie.
“I’m going bag packing with Rod,” Rory told them.
“I thought maybe India,” ventured Kate.
Suppertime was often like this, a crossover of conversation. A flicker of annoyance from Kate speeded up Paul’s reply.
“India sounds great. I’ve always wanted to go back there.”
“Didn’t you go there when you were a hippie, Dad?” asked Annie.
“We’ll probably fly to Bangkok then hitch down through Thailand,” explained Rory “I’ve just bought an SNS.”
“A what?” said Kate.
“Satellite Navigation System,” Rory explained with the patience he reserved for the non-technical.
“Why, so you can find out you’re in Thailand when you’re in Thailand?” Annie laughed at him.
“No, drongo, so I can find out where I am in the wild, or in the jungle.”
“I got some brochures just in case India appealed,” said Kate with a smile. “You’d like India, wouldn’t you, Annie?”
“You bet.”
“I’d like anywhere as long as it’s not this country,” moaned Rory.
Paul watched Kate out of the corner of his eye. She seemed normal, a little tired from work and a bit world-weary.
He could not shake off the feeling that she was disappointed. That she was going through the motions. He didn’t mean about the holiday. He meant about her life. He wasn’t sure if he had the courage to raise an issue like that with her. You never know what kind of disturbing revelations it might bring up. He tried to connect his recent, and surprising, fantasies with the woman sitting opposite him at dinner with their family around them and they didn’t seem to fit. But, then again, as he had thought earlier, you never really know.
As they finished their meal, he thought about the pendulum. Until he had started to use it, albeit briefly, these kind of thoughts had stayed where they ought to be kept, under wraps in the subconscious. Within a few short weeks, they had been released. Paul felt partly liberated and partly threatened by the loosening of his emotional grip on himself. It could only be the pendulum effect.
It was an hour later, as Paul was finishing the chores in the kitchen, when he felt a cold chill in the pit of his stomach.
The pendulum was calling him. He was certain of it. He glanced over to the sitting room. Kate was knitting something when the phone rang. He heard her pick it up and speak to Cassie.
He remembered suddenly the day Cassie was born. He remembered her growing up and he remembered Kate then. Maybe it was time that dulled the magic. Maybe it was time and indifference.
Kate and Cassie would talk for ages so he slipped into his office and took the pendulum out of its black bag.
He established contact, holding the droplet over his palm and asking the now familiar questions.
“Are you my supreme soul?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the same as my Guardian Angel?”
“No.”
“Can I contact my Guardian Angel?”
The pendulum slowed then started again to the left.
“Are you the one who contacted me earlier?”
“Yes, Paul.” The pendulum spun but the voice also appeared in his head
“This is crazy. How do I know what I am contacting? How do I know all this isn’t the first sign of madness?”
“You are not mad, Paul. You are privileged. This kind of direct contact does not take place often.”
“Privileged. What do you mean? How come you sound like the guy next door. I thought angels would sound like the Bible, or the Koran or something?”
“You are privileged because you have been chosen. You will discover more as we continue. I don’t sound like anything. We construct communication so that you understand. The Bible and the Koran are simply vehicles.”
“Are they true? And what do you mean, chosen?”
“Yes, and no. You will find out more in due course.”
“I like the way you answer questions,” said Paul with a degree of sarcasm.
“Would you like to hear about yourself?” asked Guardian Angel.
Paul blinked once for yes. The pendulum had stopped spinning.
“You are of the cherubim. You are one of us but below us in rank and power.”
“A cherub?”
“Yes, the mark is on your hand.”
Paul scrutinized his hand. How could he possibly find such a mark? He was drawn to the centre of his right palm where he saw, he believed for the first time, a perfect triangle. He was also drawn to his left thumb, where he just about discerned a tiny crescent shape that he knew he had never seen before.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“No.” said Guardian Angel.
“They’re just lines, like all the others. I’ve done some basic palmistry
and I recall a triangle is just a sign of possible good fortune especially involving other people.”
“Yes, but remember, there are levels of meaning in every aspect of existence. Your perception, and the perceptions of most human beings, is governed by many things and is necessarily limited. There are signs within signs within signs.”
Paul had been keeping a partial ear open for Kate. He heard Annie flouncing around in the kitchen before running upstairs. Kate was probably dozing in the living room.
He glanced at the pendulum.
“Nothing can get through while we are here,” said Guardian Angel. “But, there are forces which will have as equal an access to you as we have.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Paul. “I could just chuck this pendulum away and forget it.”
“We would still be here, Paul.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are your soul group. We are always with you even though you do not realize it.”
“But not like this; not this kind of communication. This sort of thing could drive you mad. This is classic, isn’t it. I’m actually hearing voices. And yet I am not, as far as I know, schizophrenic or suffering from hallucinations.”
“We would not cause you any suffering. The pendulum is simply a method of reaching you without frightening you.”
“So, have all those people who have been locked away in mental institutions heard their angel groups? Is this how it begins? Do I end up as a babbling, incoherent wreck trying to explain that I have been talking to angels?”
“There are other forces besides us making contact with human beings,” Guardian Angel explained. “Many of them are malevolent. They are, what you would call, psychic vampires. It is all part of the process of competing for energy.”
“Why can’t you just get rid of them?” asked Paul.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Guardian Angel said patiently.
Paul suspected that nothing would ever ruffle this entity, whatever it was. He felt suddenly tired. This communication system was taking it out of him.
An Angel on My Shoulder Page 5
