Rekindling (Saints & Haints, Chapter 13)
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After the screen went dark, I said to my demons, all of whom had heard of A before,
"Well. Now you've met him."
They replied, somewhat excitedly,
"Well, I guess we have!"
Then I analyzed and re-analyzed what had taken place. I knew that the first question anyone else would ask me would probably be,
Did you really believe it? And if so, why? Looking back, I can assure you that I was asking myself that question too, especially considering everything else that had happened recently. The thing is, I did believe it, right from the start. Why, though, is, again, difficult to explain.
You see, I shouldn't have believed it; especially not after all I'd been through with some other guy pretending to be A. What were the chances that 18 months later, the real A would "call me" out of the blue like that? Well, it wasn't completely out of the blue, but close enough. Weren't the chances a lot greater that demons were trying to play the same trick on me twice? I definitely thought so; rationally, that is. But I knew it was him, because of the sweetness of it; because of certain details, like eating my hearts. Who would even think of that? The message, as a whole, had been way too adorable to have been dreamed up by a demon. The enthusiasm of the arms waving at the beginning was another convincing factor. Without saying a word, that action had screamed,
"Heyyyyyy!! Long time no talk!!!!!"
There was simply a genuineness to it that I didn't think could've been fabricated. Then there had also been that beautiful energy; that smooth flame. All of that was what I felt in my heart, though; it wasn't proof. So, after analyzing my feelings, I turned to deductive reasoning.
The primary message I had gleaned from the vision made perfect Catholic sense; that saints will watch over us and intercede for us.
I concluded that, in this case, I must have inadvertently asked for saintly intercession.
You see, in 2020, when I started recording EVPs and playing around with Spirit Mirror, I was already heavily under the influence of demons. I didn't realize that at the time, but looking back now, it's so obvious. Shortly after I'd made contact, Johnny had pretended to be A. When I was interacting with Johnny, I thought I was interacting with A; therefore, I was going around thinking about A and talking to A all the time. Even though I had been addressing the spirit of the wrong man, the real A would have heard all of that too. It's entirely plausible, based on what we think we know about how all that stuff works, that what I was doing would have been enough to get the real A's attention in Heaven. So, I reasoned, he had most likely looked in on me, seen what was really going on, and said,
"Oh, crap!"
And then he'd gone running to ask for assistance on my behalf. After all,
prayers are simply telepathic communications to spirit beings.
I don't think most people see it that way, but that's exactly what prayer is. I had been praying without realizing it, every time I had talked to Johnny.
All the dead are psychic. That's what they've told me; and I've seen plenty of proof. If you never figure out psychic abilities in your life, you will figure it out pretty quickly after your soul leaves your body. Something about our physical bodies blocks this sort of communication, or makes it more difficult, it seems.
I still had questions, though.
There were plenty of images in the vision which I didn't even think I understood. I questioned why he would use a style of communication that demons had used with me, why he would use demon imagery, and why he would choose to represent certain things the way he had. For instance, why had he chosen an ice cream cone to represent Saint Michael? The ice cream cone was personal to me, but it was affiliated with a sad memory. Why bring up something painful to me, when there's a standard icon of Saint Michael; one which actually translates just fine as a silhouette?
See? He could have shown me that! Some of the shainty imagery gave me pause enough to wonder if this message had really come from Heaven. At the same time, however, there had been a lot of religious imagery, also. Too much, perhaps?
I truly believed myself to be under the protection of Jesus, and numerous saints, and I believed that my prayers had been answered by them. So, I had to ask myself,
"If this vision had been a trick, broadcast to me by a demon, then why did all my saintly protectors allow me to sit and watch it for an entire hour?"
That's how long it had lasted; right around an hour. No one had intervened? No one had given me any indication that it was not truthful?
When I got on Instagram, there were pictures of guitars everywhere; which I had to deem an oddly specific occurrence, because of the guitar image A had shown me, and because I don't subscribe to any guitar pages or anything of the sort. Another picture also caught my eye; it was a drawing of heart-hands encircling a keyhole. It was too weird not to mean something. I looked back through my notes about the tarot readers. I read through some of the predictions they'd made recently, things I hadn't deemed oddly specific enough to include in my planned report, whenever I got around to writing about my experiment. A few of them jumped out at me:
"Someone from your past will reach out to you..."
"Someone's been keeping an eye on you..."
"Someone wants to video chat..."
I had accepted the fact that some of those psychics were being guided --or perhaps even getting their cards shuffled-- by spirits; but, for the first time, I wondered,
"Could some of these predictions actually be about spirits?"
There was obviously some support, as support goes regarding these matters, both for and against deeming this experience a saintly encounter. The thing that ended up convincing me that it was, however, was that smooth flame. That warm, beautiful energy, I decided, couldn't possibly have come from anywhere besides Heaven.
The strangest thing was that I kept crying. On August 16th, the day after that experience, all throughout the day, as I mulled these things over and tried to sort it all out, I would just start crying, for no real reason. It wasn't sadness, really. I was a little bit sad, sure; simply because thinking about A again after all that time had brought to mind the tragic aspects of the situation. We had been separated before we got to find out what might've been; and then he'd died, far too young. It wasn't really sadness, though. It wasn't happiness either. It was something I had no name for. I finally chalked it up to being overcome by emotion, because I'd had a beautiful experience.
Still, I had to miss work that evening. I actually got ready and drove to the store, but sitting in the parking lot, before getting out of the truck, I started crying again. At first, I thought that I might be able to stop, but then my face and eyes were red, and my makeup was smeared, and I saw that I was going to be late anyway, so I just said,
"Fuck it," and sat there, crying some more.
Glancing around, I noticed S's truck parked near me, and realized that I didn't love him anymore. My feelings were gone, just like that; the same way they had begun.
I... just... didn't... love... him.
I cranked the truck and drove home.
That night, I asked A another question.
"Were you really only acknowledging that you saw that wedding stuff, or were you saying something more?"
My demons threw a fit that night, and I burned some frankincense. I slept peacefully, though. Sometime the next day, I vaguely remembered that I had been talking to A before falling asleep that night, but all I could recall of the conversation was that I'd asked him if he had been contacting me too, back in 2020, and that I'd told him that I love him.
When I awoke that next morning, the morning of the 17th, in my almost-consciousness, I giggled and said,
"So, you're a reiki master and a Jedi these days? Well, I'm a psychic medium now. That's about all."
It seemed as if we'd talked all night.
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