Message from the Other Side

One early morning in late October, Dean was out on the common with Kiss and I was enjoying a lie-in with Dexter, when I felt some one take my hand and lift me out of my body. I don’t know whether I was asleep or awake, or somewhere in between, but it didn’t feel strange or frightening at the time. This being, and I knew he was a man, took me high enough to see the curvature of the Earth and there we hovered. As he held my hand I felt everything he was feeling; warm sun and rain on my face, laughter, orgasm and I thought, “Wow, is this was it is to be dead?” And for a moment I wanted to stay there, before I realised what that meant and came crashing back to me bed.

I had the frantic urge to scribble something on a scrap of paper to hand, before my eyes could even focus. Then I woke up. Oh my God. I had just wished myself dead! Why had I done that? I knew something had happened. Something had changed forever and I didn’t know what it was.

Dean came home to find me in floods of tears.  That’s not like me.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just wished myself dead. Some one visited me.”

“Who visited you?”

“I don’t know. I think it was a dream, but it wasn’t.”

Dean understood ‘bad dreams’. I’d had terrible nightmares that woke me up screaming when we first met. He held me in his arms and I calmed down. Then I remembered the piece of paper.

“I wrote something down.”

I went to get the paper and scrutinized my illegible scribble – not great at the best of times. I explained to Dean what had happened and began to decipher the paper. It was clearly a poem, but it meant nothing to me.

As we sat there bemused, the phone rang, and instantly I knew what had happened. All the pieces came together like a holographic jigsaw puzzle and my mind was clear and silent. I had no doubts about what had happened and strangely, I had never felt more certain of anything in my life. It was our close friend Mandy on the phone and we had what must have been the strangest conversation of her life.

“Yolanda, something terrible’s happened. There’s been an accident and we can’t come to    your party.”

(We were having a birthday party for Dean in a couple of days.

“Mile’s best friend Greg died in a car accident in Cape Town last night.”

“Yes, I know.”

Silence. An audible intake of breath on the line.

“What do you mean you know? How do you know?”

“He visited me.”

“Who visited you? Greg? How could he have visited you? What do you mean?”

Her voice was getting squeaky and she was on the verge of getting angry and I had to spit it out.

“I can’t explain it Mandy. I have no explanation, but I have never been more certain of anything in my life; Greg visited me early this morning and he gave me a poem for Miles.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Said Mandy. “If it was anyone else apart from you I would tell them that they were full of shit and hang up. But why you? Why did he come to you?”

The only answer I had to that question was that I was the closest person to Miles who was open-minded enough to be able to receive the message.

We agreed that I would post the poem through their door later that morning and they could decide what they wanted to do. Mandy didn’t want Miles to get more upset than he already was and I assured her that I didn’t think the poem would do that. It was a message of comfort.

Miles and Mandy came to our party and Miles flew out the following morning to Cape Town for the funeral. He read the poem at the funeral and Greg’s mother came up to him after and asked him where the poem came from. Miles reluctantly told her. “Oh,” she said. “The same thing happened to me.”

This event threw me into turmoil; I had to abandon everything I thought I knew and start again.  A person who was dead had spoken to me very clearly. I had no doubt about that, no matter what my rational mind said. That feeling of knowing something with absolute clarity, that no one had told me and that I hadn’t perceived with my normal senses became my navigator. Within a couple of months I had left my job and begun my journey of exploration.

It was years before I realised that this event took place just a day or so after Dexter came to live with us. Did he open the door to the Other Side? More importantly, where exactly is this door?

Greg’s Poem

So here we are again my friend

Once more on distant shores

Beyond the reach of wire and web

My wandering is now done


I am here

My toes sink in the sand as

My gaze melts the snow on distant mountains

My fingers brush through the trees in winter

And you feel me in your shiver


And I know you are there

My light will burn forever in the rising of the sun and

The glow of exertion on your skin

You’ll hear my voice in the siren’s wail and

Feel my love in the smell of autumn


And share my song

Because I am everything and everywhere

At home in Heart’s desire

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