Underworld (Dark Passage) (13 page)

Keys are found in many realms. You may cross over
into hidden places and times past to find them. Listen
for what cannot be heard. Train your sight to see
that which is unseen. You may walk into the unseen
to find the hidden. To find the path, look back into
the past, and make old things new again.

It’s l
ike listening to a conversation behind a closed
door. I used to have these “episodes” when I was a
kid and a doctor had told my mom I had an overactive
imagination. He said that kids who experience
trauma can make up imaginary friends or alternate
worlds in order to cope. I had taken medications for
both “audio” and “visual” hallucinations for several
years and then they stopped all together.

I remember how angry Gramma June was when she
found out about the medication. She told me never to
talk about the voices or visions again and the doctors
would leave me alone. I hated the pills and the
embarrassment of being labeled “mentally ill” and
tookGramma June’s advice to heart. People were
afraid of me and wanted to keep me with the “Status
Quo” and make me conform like everyone else. I
was not like the others and because of that was
labeled “mentally ill” or even “evil”. Deep down I
knew they were wrong. I was being manipulated into
losing my true self. In losing that, I lost sight of my
destiny, and my path in life was hidden.

I learned early on just how dangerous it could be if
people knew you were “different”. The truth of the
matter is that the very things that people hated about
me are the same traits that made the Shining Ones
chose me. I am a survivor, and used what mental
resources I possessed back then to get through life, or
so I thought. In reality the only limitations in my life
were the ones I put on myself. I was too beat down to
see through the illusions all around me.

It all comes rushing back like a wave crashing down
on the beach. I can almost see the swirling gray mist
that swallows me up as I walk through it. There is a
door that is almost translucent and when I touch the
handle it opens.

The door opens to a valley. There are green fields
and the fragrance of wild flowers drifting on the
breeze. The lane turns into a small road that takes me
out to a dusty road. I take a left on the road and walk
until I reach the top of a gentle hill. On the other side
is a village. I can almost smell the lavender that
grows in pots in the town square and fresh bread
cooling on racks at the bakery. Laughter floats
through the air and I can hear adults talking leisurely
as they sip coffee at tables outside small cafés.

I walk down the hill and recognize giant pots filled
with lavender and vines creeping down the sides of
houses. There are purple flowers making a show
against the deep green of the vines. The streets are
cobbled with stones that are set so tightly together
that it is like a solid surface. There is an old man
setting out an open sign in front of his café. He gives
me a warm smile and tips his hat. His silver hair
shines in the sunlight and then his cap once again
covers his hair.

I notice a woman with shoulder length hair that curls
in a gentle wave. She is sitting at a table with a red
and green checkerboard cloth over it. There is a vase
of wildflowers in the middle and a small basket of
bread off to one side. The woman is wearing jeans
and a beige blouse with sleek red leather shoes. She is
thumbing through a magazine and stops to get
something from her purse. Her eyes are violet and
her skin as smooth as milk. She looks up from her
red leather purse, and raises a hand, as though
waiving to someone.

She smiles in my direction and I expect the person
she is waving at to come up to her table at any
moment. Then she has a puzzled look on her face.

She stands up, walks in my direction and looks
directly at me. Her hand falls on my shoulder and she
motions for me to sit down at the table. I walk to the
table and stop for a moment to look glance into the
glass of the café window.
I am barely more than a
kid and I am wearing the jacket I had stolen from
Melinda so many years ago.

I stand there looking at the woman like a dumb thing.
She pulled out a chair for me to sit down. Taking her
seat, she reaches across the table and places her hand
on mine.“Ivy. Are they forcing you to take the
medications? You may lose your ability to come here
and need to prepare. Write down the things that have
happened in your diary and hide it in a safe place.
Never let your locket out of your sight and when the
time comes June will show you the way back”.

The woman seems alarmed and holds me close to her
chest. I can sense she is holding back tears as she
embraces me.

Once the door is closed it will be very difficult to
open again. There is a long road ahead and you must
expect the unexpected”.

Her eyes hold such warmth and she seems to look
into my soul. I belong with her but can’t remember
the connection. Who is this woman? What
connection do I have to her?

My heart is pounding and I struggle to keep the vision
open. The last thing I see is the woman growing
smaller and smaller in the distance. Then the mist is
gone and I am back.

The door of understanding is starting to open. June is
connected to everything in several ways. Her letter
holds pieces of the puzzle to my life. I have an
ominous feeling that ifI don’t put the puzzle together
I may never leave here.
To find your path, look back
into the past, and make old things new again.

My mind is taking me back, back into my past, to
places I don’t like to remember. Back to the
beginning of my other life which started at the end of
my childhood. To the secret places I had tried to hide
from for so long. The secrets of that time nearly
destroyed me.
Keys are found in many realms. You
may cross over into hidden places, and times past, to
find them.

I must live in the now and prepare for what is to
come. Living in fear does no good and only peace of
mind will show me the way. I must see what is
before me through the window of my soul for the veil
is open if only I can believe.

I have been no stranger to trouble. It’s as though
there has been a cancer eating away at me my entire
life. I have had much inner turmoil, fears and anxiety
for as long as I can remember. I had learned to let
things outside my control dictate my life.

I have been fascinated with the spirit world since I
was 11. Catching shadows out of the corner of my
eye or hearing muted voices were daily phenomena.
I believed that these things were bad because other
people did not experience them. I had the ability to
move beyond this dimension but was unable to break
free from what other people believed to be right.
Being attuned to the spiritual side of life was
considered a weakness of mind.

When I turned 11 people said I was disturbed and that
I invented stories to get attention. Behind my blue
gray eyes and long-hair was a frightened child. The
vivid memories of my baby brother lying dead in a
casket, with his angelic face and blond curls, had to
be forgotten if I was to survive. Except, that is, for
the small white tooth we tucked under his pillow for
the tooth faerie when he was 7. I had put a dollar in
its place and put the tooth in a small velvet bag and
hid it. I just couldn’t let go of his tooth and it gave
me the sense that a part of him was present with me.
I had learned to slip through my miserable existence
in the here and now to the other side where things
were normal. On the other side I had a whole
different life and things were good there. Beautiful
people with shining faces that helped me forget the
bad things.

To be dead was to lie down and sleep forever- or so I
thought-until I went to the other side. I had failed my
little brother and older sister and wanted to fall asleep
forever just as they had done. There is a reality just
beyond what we can see if we have an open mind.
On that side I learned to forgive. I had learned to hate
people and forgiveness was not something that came
easy to me. Forgiving someone is to set your-self
free from the past. You see, the person I needed to
forgive, was me. Until I could learn how to do that I
would not be able to move on with my life.

When I was a pre-teen I loved to go to an old used
bookstore in town. I would take a bus and walk to the
historic part of Gig Harbor. In the heart of the town
was an old bookshop. It was owned by a kindly old
man and his wife. The Mrs. would sneak books into
my backpack and give me candy when I came to the
shop. They always had a smile or kind word for me.
It was a weird world I lived in but they were lights in
my dark life.

Reading took me out of myself and each book was an
adventure. I literally would find myself in far off
places and assumed I had fallen asleep. I never
explained to anyone why books meant so much to me.
They gave my mind flight and I was able to find my
way to the other side.

People said I was an old soul in a young body. The
truth be told, I knew some old souls and reveled in
spending time with them. Old people always drew
me to them. I appreciated the wisdom they held and
they understood that the lines between life and death
were fuzzy and there are no rules.

The old couple from the bookstore invited me to their
house for tea one day. I took the bus to old town and
then walked a couple of miles down the waterfront
and turned at the 3 way stop to go up the hill to the
big house. At the end of the driveway was a
formidable gate that was set in a large stone arch that
connected to a wrought iron fence that ran the length
of the property. Jasmine snaked up the sides of the
stone fence giving it the feel of a very old place.

The gate groaned as I pushed it open and let myself
through. The driveway was packed with cobblestones
and neat hedges flanked either side. The walk to the
house seemed longer than it should and twisted this
way and that. I passed a small Koi pond with a
gazebo and eventually passed a barn. It was good
sized stone building that had two sets of green doors
on either side. Beyond the barn were white fences
that gleamed in the sun.

Light was falling on the expansive lawn in front of
the house. The lush grass reached as far as I could
see and then disappeared into the trees. It never
struck me as odd at the time that a place like this
existed in the city limits. In truth, though I didn’t
understand it at the time, the property on the other
side of the gate was just a normal sized lot. Not much
bigger than one of the small row houses that stands by
the Walmart and yet it stretched out for a mile once I
was inside the gate.

Their house was a large green Craftsman with neatly
painted boards crisscrossing across the front. There
was elaborate white fret work hanging down along
the roofline. The house sat off to the side beyond a
stand of pine trees. The scent of salt air drifted up
from the harbor and intertwined with the fragrance of
freshly cut grass from the lawn. I felt immediately at
home. It was as though the house was welcoming
me.

I stopped for a moment to admire the home and felt
something brush against my leg. Looking down, I
saw a plump marmalade cat, rubbing his face against
my pant leg.
What’s your name fella?
At the sound
of my voice he broke into a purr and rubbed his body
against me. When he had said his hello he gracefully
trotted up the walkway to the door. As though on
cue, the heavy wooden doors opened; and Elizabeth,
the old lady from the bookstore, walked outside.
I
smiled and waved at her as I made my way toward
the house.

From behind me there was a snort. I turned to look
and a horse stood not 20 feet from me. His nostrils
twitched and he tossed his head. The heavy white
mane hung down his neck and his forelock covered
his eyes. He stood quiet still, with his ears pricked,
and his eyes full of curiosity. He regarded me for a
minute and then put his head down to graze. I
watched for a moment as the horse grazed and he
watched me out of the corner of my eye.

“Don’t mind him honey. He’s been around here
forever and we let him have run of the place. Horses
keep the dark spirits away you know.”

Not sure what to say I ignored the last comment.
Surely she must be joking. When I smiled at her
there was no laughter in her eyes. I felt a pang of fear
in the pit of my stomach. She must have sensed that I
was uneasy and she gave me a warm smile.

“Oh dear. Don’t mind me. I’m old and have heard
toomany stories. Why don’t you come inside for
tea? We rarely have visitors here and no children of
our own”.