Writing

Two Worlds Collide

 

As a child I often saw angels and heard their voices.  I didn’t tell my parents about the loving visitors and their guidance, assuming that other children had the same experiences as me.  I loved listening to my nonphysical friends as they shared their unlimited wisdom and insight.  Visiting with these angelic guides was my personal escape from our family’s turmoil. Some how it helped me release a lot of pain of the physical world when I slipped into the magical world of unconditional love.

Often I would experience precognitive visions and shudder when the events I’d seen in my mind’s eye manifested right in front of me. I felt weird.  It was confusing for me as a teenager to experience strange things internally and then live through them.

One morning a neighborhood bully and his gang jumped my brothers and me at the bus stop.  After fists stopped swinging, we calmed down and regained our composure. That’s when I “saw” the accident. The image was as crisp and vivid in my mind as if I’d been standing in front of it.  A crashed bus lay on its side like a wounded horse waiting to be put out of its misery.  Terrified elementary school kids were crawling out of the emergency door and windows. Then as quickly as the image had appeared, it was gone.  I was back in the aftermath of the fight, yet stunned by what I’d seen and felt in my mind.

Without warning, one of the gang members punched me hard, bringing me further back into physical reality.  Suddenly the image of the bus returned.  In my minds eye a tractor-trailer was slamming into the rear end of a bus.  For a moment I felt trapped between worlds, feeling the physical pain of the punch while feeling the emotional pain of the vision.

Somewhere in the middle of getting beaten up I shouted at the top of my lungs and into the bully’s face, “I hope your damn bus turns over and sends all of you to the hospital!”  You could have heard a pin drop.  The other kids at the bus stop were stunned at my outburst.  They had never heard me yell or speak out before. Neither had I.  I was as shocked as they were.

As we stood there in silence, the first bus of the morning arrived, blowing its horn and flashing its bright red lights.  The leader and his gang boarded the bus along with my younger brothers.  Only a handful of kids remained.  Someone made a joke to get our attention onto lighter subjects and I happily took their lead. Moments later our bus appeared over the hill and we quickly boarded.

I was talking with a friend on the bus when I heard our driver exclaim, “Oh my God!”  We looked in his direction.  That’s when I saw it. An overturned bus lying on its right side.

The bumper was smashed in and glass was scattered over the road.  The morning sun cast its brilliant light in the shattered glass creating a surreal effect. Children scrambled out of the emergency door to the safety of passing motorist who had stopped to help.  Just like in my vision, a tractor-trailer had slammed on its brakes, jackknifed, and then slid right into the back bumper of the bus.  Ambulances and fire trucks were at the scene of the accident, while onlookers attempted to calm down the children.

I knew without looking at the wounded bus’s number that it was my brothers’ bus.  What I saw next stopped my heart.  As our bus inched by the accident, I saw a handful of kids standing at the back of an ambulance.  Looking more closely through the chaotic crowd I recognized the leader and his gang. My breath stopped.  My ill wishes for them had come true.  And my brothers beside them, I was devastated.

Everyone on my bus stared at the wreck in disbelief. I pretended to be cool, yet tears began to sting my eyes.  Most of the kids acted like they weren’t watching me, but I knew they were.  I could overhear them repeating the threat I’d made earlier.  I couldn’t blame them for staring, I would’ve been staring too I guess.

Maybe I was a monster for yelling what I did.  Maybe I was really the bully because I had psychically witnessed the crash before it happened.  I couldn’t help but feel responsible.  Had I caused the wreck?  Was it my fault that innocent kids were possibly hurt, even killed?  I wondered.  My lip was quivering.  A huge weight knotted my stomach.  It felt impossible to breathe.

By this time our bus had pulled into the parking lot of junior high school.  I went straight to the bathroom and prayed that everyone was okay and unharmed.  I prayed hard that I hadn’t caused the wreck, and I especially asked for forgiveness about what I’d said.  Then I awaited any information the angels wanted share.

The next image and feeling I experienced were of all the children on the bus being okay.  Of course they were shaken up, but I knew without a doubt that none of them was seriously hurt.  They suffered bumps and bruises; overall they were fine.  What a relief!  Immediately I felt lighter.  My prayers had been heard.

As an adult I often look back at my teenage years.  What I would give to go back to that era and know then what I know today.  I would have a completely different perspective about my gift of spirit communication.  Today I appreciate it and use it to enhance the well-being of those around me.  As a teenager it was impossible to draw a line between the two realities, but after the bus accident I gave up trying to dissect my psychic visions and came to accept them.

Writing Home

 

Story 1 - Dying to Know

 

Story 2 - Multidimensional Teen

 

Story 3 - Two Worlds Collide

 

Excerpted from the book Hot Chocolate For The Teenage Mystical Soul.

 

This book can be purchased at Amazon.com.

 

 

© 2016 Eddie Conner. All Rights Reserved.