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.
|
