Star Woman in Love (38 page)

She no longer lived in his world, literally. When he had made the wrong decision and had chosen the woman his ego, and not his soul, had wanted, a chasm had opened between his and Cassie’s worlds, and two schizophrenic, self-denying dimensions had come into being. Two parallel stories started to unfold: one in which she continued her evolution into her angelic potential, and the other in which he was strangled by his demons. Their two worlds would overlap at times, whenever the ex-lovers happened to think about each other through the eyes of love. The two dimensions would collapse into each one on such occasions. But these occurrences had become really sporadic.

Initially he and Cassie had been able to see one other, or at least one would see the other, although not for long periods of time. The space-time equation had now been damaged by his mistake, and there were interferences in the Plan. Oscar had noticed how every time they bumped into each other, Cassie was always carrying a multitude of shopping bags. Compensation for losing him, he thought, and a clear departure from her spiritual nature. Success and popularity had made her very, very rich indeed. Her face featured regularly in magazines, newspapers and TV programmes. He wrongly guessed that it was obvious she wanted him to know.

At times she would quote him directly in interviews with the international press: “If you’re going through transformation, learn to be patient. Be gentle with your ego. It’s there for a purpose.” Those were the words he had once written to her when she had revealed her love to him. A trembling little declaration, so much sweetness rolled into it. He was startled and yet moved when he heard her say these words. Overjoyed and over-embarrassed. The two sides of “him”. Was there ever a time in his life when he was not in two minds about anything? Schizophrenia had always plagued him, and the voices in his head constantly whispered confusing messages. She had once brought him peace and he had let it slip through his fingers.

Unbeknown to him, on that rainy Paris morning, Oscar’s memories became heart-seeds. They also became seeds in the fourth dimension, waiting for the season to sprout, cut through the soil and into the air, to be kissed by the sun. His profound love for Cassie was one of these seeds, but it was buried under layers of guilt and self-disdain. Much attention would be required for such a seed to re-grow. It had sunk so deeply into his Core that it was now hard to grasp it. Had it ever existed? Yet on those rare times she thought about him, this heart-seed would stir and send shivers through his bones.

She was thinking about him right then. The storm in his heart was raging like a monster in the darkness, summoning all his heart-seeds to awaken. Memories re-emerged of the time when she cried in his arms because she thought he would save her from the hurts inflicted by lovers before him. She used to think he was a god. She had thought him wholesome and genuinely good. She had trusted him and she had told him so. And all he could do was to break her heart, forsake his word and leave as fast as he could to follow the first skirt that crossed his path. Memories were like poisonous seeds in his heart, too. It was dangerous to tread on such territory. But, fortunately, there were also seeds in Cassie’s heart, and at times they would turn into beautiful soul-blossoms.

He came to a sudden stop and realised where he was and what he was doing. He had been wandering around the cemetery in a daze for over an hour. He found himself leaning on Oscar Wilde’s tomb. He felt a rush of pain in his chest, distinctly and sharply: the pain of losing her. He abandoned himself to regret and started to cry like a baby. He was crying for her. He wanted her back in his life.

His mobile phone beeped to signal that he had received a text message. It was from the mother of his child. She wanted him to be at her apartment for dinner. Friends – her friends - would be there so she wanted him to scrub up and make an effort. Loneliness hit him like a whip. He rested his head on the grave of the great Irish wit, hoping that his hammering thoughts would melt into oblivion. How sad it was to see the angelic figure on the tomb all covered in lipstick kisses from the tourists’ empty rituals. He realised its once-prominent penis had been broken off. A castrated statue. He wondered how his namesake must have felt about the place of his burial. Depressed? For sure. He could relate to him more than ever. Oscar slid down to the muddy ground and sat with his back on the stone, hoping the rain would wash away the sadness he felt. He missed his Cassie more than ever. Did she know?

* * * *

She did. On the same cold February morning Cassandra was in her kitchen in the Dublin mansion that she had bought with Magne five years previously. The city in which she lived was not the same Dublin where Oscar dwelled. This was the fourth-dimensional Dublin where everything was perfect. He still lived in the old, three-dimensional version of the city, and of the Earth, where the dreams of the ego still ran riot. Although her most recent descent into matter had been in breach of the Plan, she nevertheless inhabited a level where hurt was almost completely banished. In those days, however, there were still some cracks in the protective bubble around the planet and evil could still lurk in.

That morning she was busy organising her birthday party, adding the last couple of important names to her guest list. The room was immaculate, just like her house. The interior decor was a mixture of romanticism and practical modern furniture. There were vases full of flowers and plants everywhere. Classical music was flowing from the loudspeakers: Wagner, again. Beauty was so obvious in that mansion: it was at home there, no doubt.

Cassandra herself looked wonderful, better than she ever did in her youth. Her long dark hair fell loosely on her shoulders. She wore no makeup and sat at the table wearing one of Magne’s shirts. This particular one was white and made her skin look the colour of honey. She looked like a woman in her late twenties. The calendar indicated that her fortieth birthday was the following week. She had grace to her movements and her powers were now fully fledged. She had long come to terms with them and was quite proficient at letting them flow through her without trying to control them. We were proud of her but still kept a close eye because of her penchant for trying to get in touch with Oscar, even if only in her ever so powerful thoughts. This inclination indicated that she still held a connection to her past, and her three dimensional bodily cells. We hadn’t yet managed to delete the memory of Oscar from her heart; it would always come back now that she had re-descended on Earth.

She needed to detach from Oscar completely in order to let her body create a sufficient number of fifth dimensional cells, to help her re-ascend to the fifth dimension and rejoin us in Shambhala. That was the idea. She had left Shambhala without any notice this time. Oscar was still her weak spot, obviously, and a stronger one that we had assumed. His influence on her still hampered her progress. It wasn’t part of the Plan, of course. The element of surprise and unpredictability would always be the legacy of the love they had shared.

The previous night she had written a letter to him for the first time in all the years since they had parted. Magne was away on business and she was alone in the house. The full moon was high in the sky and she couldn’t get to sleep. Something was missing, and she knew what it was. She missed the years gone by. She missed the lover from her past who still roamed her heart. She put pen to paper and wrote to Oscar for a while. The letter she produced was lying on the kitchen table, next to the guest list she was also drafting. Would she ever send it to him? Would he ever receive it?

This is what it said:

My dear and only love, where are you tonight? The gaping hole in my heart is so conspicuous and alive, it wants to swallow me… the Hunger Moon is in the sky and it’s no time for hunting. Yet I’m searching my heart for little snippets of memories, of moments with you. Foolish, I know, but I miss you. I guess I’ll be looking for you forever. This is what it feels like. My heartbeat is faint: finding you again is the reason for my life. They tell me otherwise, and sometimes I doubt it. What’s Peter Pan without his shadow, Tinkerbell without her Peter… what a concussion of emotions, what numbness in my face, deprived as it is of the smile you brought to it so effortlessly… a vacuum in my gaze… the widest space in my bed despite the tender company I keep there...

My beautiful love, I can’t keep treating you like this, like some missing part in me that can be substituted with a spare. I want to try, I do my best to try but it doesn’t work. How can I believe that I could allow someone else who only fits the description from the outside, take your place… the place of my primal lover of those nights of passion, when we brought Heaven to Earth, between my legs and in my arms… I still feel confused about the way we ended it, the way we parted. Did we even say goodbye? I don’t remember... I’m not supposed to think about you and yet I do. How do I handle you
in absentia?
How can I avoid the rapture of madness, the pangs of longing that tear my lonely limbs apart… I try not to listen to them, but I always fail in my attempts.

I gaze at the night-time sky and think of you. I look at the brightest star and know it’s you. I can only remember you with love… on a night like tonight…

What part of me are you, my sweet one? How does it feel to be you? What are you feeling at your core? What gentleness and tenderness lie at the foundation of your magnificent being? Why do I sense such a void in your soul… sadness, despair, loneliness... do you miss me? I miss you like I’d miss my heart if they tore it out of my chest… I often don’t want to face up to the fact that my life without you feels meaningless... But something’s pushing me to confess that I really miss you tonight.

Do you still wonder what part of you I reflect, which part of you I am? What if feels to be me? And if you know that, would you please remind me? I was love to you... only love... do you remember the look in my eyes when I stared at your naked body, your gentle features, the wave of your hair. You looked so innocent... My eyes were too small to let all that beauty sink in… as we spent moments, my dear one, in a bed worn-out by so much night-time activity and the sleep of angels… you wished me to sleep with the angels… the gentle angel that you can be, that you are…

I guess I want to retrieve you because I have forgotten you, and with you I have forgotten my True Self. I fell from grace, in actual fact. I loved your form far too much: to the point of becoming a fallen angel in my little Eden… I wonder how you are tonight, my majesty, my king, my darling lover. Because it feels like you’re standing next to me, begging me to take you back.

My dear one, you are the happiest hour of my physical life, the sweetest breath I ever exhaled, the sweetest kiss I ever received. I come alive at the simple thought of being in your arms again, hearing your honey-sweet voice, a bee to a flower I am. I refuse to let you go. More the opposite, I call you back into my life. I come to you. Again.

In love and Light I remain your Bride.

How could she possibly still be thinking about Oscar? Her frequency was now so high it was very difficult for her to detect him. Two separate worlds had been created by their rift. Yet the two ex-lovers could still bridge the divide between them and meet from time to time in their thoughts. We did not expect that. We had to keep close watch again, lest we lose Cassandra’s heart to Oscar’s nightmares. Cassandra’s heart was the bridge between realities, and as such it had great power: whatever she would put her mind to, it would manifest in the material world. Since she had merged with Oscar, both of their minds were one. However, they were often at loggerheads; she was following her heart and he was following his ego. Oscar’s mind had turned out to be more powerful than we had anticipated. His vision, however out of focus and confused, was still very strong and had the ability to turn whatever concept he held in his mind into manifest reality.

The Dark Forces of the Luciferian Tribe were quick to capitalise on this. They had sent him Charlotte to ensure his manifesting skills would work to their advantage. At the same time, and to counterbalance their attack, we first had sent Matt and then Magne to Cassandra’s aid. They both had the purest hearts and very little ego. Magne in particular was one of the most gifted human beings on the planet at the time. He had a clever mind and a healthy body. He was blessed with grace, kindness, generosity and a strong sense of self-identity. He never doubted himself and his intentions.

He knew that his relationship with Cassandra was not meant to be forever, but was adamant to make the most of the time they spent together. They never argued and they were always lovable and tender to each other. It was very easy for us to gravitate around the happy couple as their joint energy was almost completely fourth-dimensional. Problems would only ever transpire at plenilune when the connection with the past would became stronger and Cassandra’s heart sensed her ties with Oscar’s. The current full moon was no exception. The ethereal cord between the two former lovers had been re-activated and their emotions would be shared once again. Cassandra felt Oscar’s sadness and the void in his heart. The man she once loved was now loveless. She wanted to caress his head and hold him close to her chest once more.

Distance didn’t mean much to their hearts’ connection. Oscar was in Paris and yet he felt Cassandra’s warmth. While she was writing the letter to him the night before, he had looked up at the sky and sent his yearnings to the silvery light of the moon. Something called him back to the moment they had parted. He knew that if he wanted to fix his mistake, he should start from there. How, he didn’t know yet. But he was looking for a solution. Something was re-awakening in him. Life was calling him on. And he knew there could be no life for him without Cassandra.