Posts Tagged ‘angels’

Insights From Tommy’s Nightmare

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

This post contains my random observations on my recent series of posts called “Tommy’s Nightmare.” I invite you to share your observations, comments, and questions by responding to this post, sending an email, or commenting on Facebook.

This story vividly demonstrates something I teach in my book, Personal Peace of Mind, How to Live Within The Law of Miracles.

Here is a brief description: 

  • God is the source of all love and wisdom
  • Life is easier when I know God’s thoughts about a situation
  • God’s thoughts always bring joy, peace, love – I call this Peace of Mind.
  • Due to society, religion, or other experiences, I might be afraid to hear from God directly, so I need an intermediary: someone to stand between God and me.
  • Examples of commonly used intermediaries include Jesus, fortunetellers, rabbis, mediums, Fathers, angels, tarot card readers, Mary, palm readers, pastors, medicine men, Mohammad, and Moses.
  • Truthfully, everyone and everything is an intermediary to God.
  • These voices are trustworthy.
  • Since we call flesh and blood intermediaries “mentors,” I call non-flesh voices, such as angels, ghosts, etc., “virtual mentors.”

Tommy’s attacks come from a medical condition called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I’m not an expert on the medical part of it. However, I have talked with several people who have or previously had the condition. They describe it as a combination of intense fear and guilt tied to memories of previous events.

Tommy’s therapist eases his attacks by playing the roles of virtual mentor and mentor. As a virtual mentor, she eases his fear by showing up in his subconscious during his attacks. As a mentor, she removes his guilt by accepting him. (There is a lesson here for any of us who Desire to help others. The acts of being present and accepting others bring healing.)

Amy’s Mother substitutes as a virtual mentor during one of Tommy’s attacks. This appearance is significant for many reasons: 

  1. Amy’s subconscious isn’t listening to Tommy or her Mother so they communicate to her through each other.
  2. Amy’s Mother is ready to move on and she won’t until she eases her daughter’s worries.
  3. When Tommy learns someone other than his therapist accepts him, his healing accelerates. (As a side note, his attacks have lessened tremendously since Amy’s mother appeared. In fact, the last time I talked to him, he had not experienced another attack.)

Tommy’s experience is consistent with The Law of Miracles. When I reach out in love to another being, I release fear, guilt, and blame. When I accept love from another being, I acknowledge that being as my mentor or virtual mentor and open the door for Miracles to occur in my life.

Tommy’s Nightmare Ends

Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

When Tommy arrives for his next appointment with Amy, one of her co-workers is in the office.

Tommy recognizes Pedro so he isn’t surprised. Pedro is Amy’s supervisor and he often observes sessions.

“Tommy, do you remember Pedro?”

“Yes.”

“He has a few things to share with you. Would it be OK if we begin our session with his thoughts?”

“Sure.”

Amy leans back into her chair, crosses her legs, and turns her attention to Pedro.

“Tommy, Amy and I have worked together for several years and, as you know, I often help with her clients. Truthfully, what I’m about to say it outside the realm of the normal patient/therapist relationship. However, in our professional opinion, we believe it is in your best interest to hear this information.

Normally, Amy would share this but she’s not sure she can say it so she asked me to help.”

Tommy’s gaze shifts from Pedro to Amy. Amy’s stoic gaze doesn’t betray her growing emotion.

“When Amy told me about your last session, I thought it was an interesting story. I considered the medical and psychological causes for your experience. Why would your subconscious reach out to Amy and, when she didn’t appear, create her mother?

At first, I thought it was some kind of warped Oedipus complex where your subconscious thought the mother could bring you greater comfort than the daughter.”

Tommy doesn’t understand the reference. He nods anyway. Pedro often rambles into theories that don’t make sense to Tommy. He knows that if he pretends to listen and understand, he shortens Pedro’s visits.

“Then, Amy told me something else – something personal that we find quite remarkable.”

Amy uncrosses and re-crosses her legs.

“The time of your last attack, the attack where Amy’s mother appeared to you, coincides exactly with the time of her death.

Amy’s mother died at 2 AM on that Tuesday morning, and, since that day, Amy had struggled with what to do with her mother’s possessions.

When you came in for your appointment several days later and began your descriptions, Amy first thought it was just a coincidence. Then, the more you said, the more she wondered if her mom had appeared to you. You perfectly described her mom, the rings, and dresses. In fact, you were so clear and specific that you answered every question Amy had about her mom’s death.

Amy has no doubts that her mom spoke to you.”

Amy uncrosses her legs and leans forward.

“Personally, I’m thankful for this experience. Professionally, I’m amazed. My mother’s ghost or spirit or something appeared to you, spoke to you, eased your attack and then, gave you specific instructions for me…”

The words hang in the air as Tommy, Pedro, and Amy say through teary eyes what can’t be said with words.

Amy ends the silent conversation by wiping her eyes.

“Have you had any attacks since your last visit?”

“No, none at all.”

Amy silently opens her mouth. Pedro speaks.

“Since that’s the case, how would you feel about having a short session today? I think it would be best for everyone.”

Tommy nods, Amy agrees, and they go their separate ways connected by an experience none of us will forget.

In my next post, I’ll share what I learned from this remarkable story. I invite you to do the same through commenting on today’s post.

Tommy’s Nightmare – Part 3

Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

This is part three of a true story told to me by one of my accounting clients. If you missed the first two posts, you may click here to read my recent posts.

I changed the names in this story to protect identities.


“Would you like to talk about the recent attack?”

“Yes, I would. But this one was different. I’m not sure where to start.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Tommy nods and Amy waits.

“The attack wasn’t much different from the others. I dreamed about my past. It frightened me. I called for you.”

“I understand.”

Immediately, Amy realizes she doesn’t understand. Tommy initially said this attack was more severe than previous attacks. However, it sounds like the others. What made this attack more severe than the others?

Suddenly, Amy is uncomfortable; she realizes Tommy doesn’t want to talk. She momentarily loses her composure until her training and professionalism kicks in. She thinks of a question to help him continue.

“What happened when you called for me?”

Amy knows the answer. She shows up in Tommy’s mind and the attack ends. 

Her uncomfortable feeling becomes a flash of fear. She knows she has no control over her appearance in Tommy’s subconscious during an attack. Still, she is afraid she didn’t help this time. Is this what he meant when he said it was more severe?

Even as she processes this thought, Tommy answers.

“You didn’t help me.”

Amy feels helpless. She asks another question.

“What happened then?”

Tommy hesitates. Then, with determined resolve, he dives into the story, knowing that once he starts, he can’t stop.

“I kept calling for you. You didn’t come. I thought about killing myself. I called for you again and someone else appeared. She claimed to be your mother.”

Amy’s face goes white and she shifts in autopilot mode as she attempts to disconnect from the emotions of the discussion. She asks the next question.

“When did this happen?”

“I met her last Tuesday morning at 2 AM.”

Amy stifles a gasp. Professionalism takes her forward.

“What did she say?”

“Amy is busy right now. The angels just came and took me away. Maybe I can help you. I’m her mom.”

Amy shifts in her seat.

“What happened with your attack?”

“It quit instantly…” 

Amy relaxes.

“…and since I knew I would be seeing you soon, I asked her if she would like to tell you anything. She said you were worried about what to do with the things she left behind and she told me to tell you what to do with her rings and dresses.”

Tommy describes the property in detail, along with the instructions.

Amy takes copious notes. Tommy isn’t sure if she’s writing personally or professionally and it doesn’t matter to him. His memory accurately describes the messages.

When Tommy stops, Amy asks one more question.

“What did this woman look like?”

Tommy tells her.

“Have you had any other attacks since then?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“That’s all the time we have for today. Thank you for coming in and I’ll see you next time.”

The next time Tommy visits for his appointment, he starts by meeting with one of Amy’s co-workers. I tell you about that meeting in my next post.

Tommy’s Nightmare – Part 2

Sunday, November 8th, 2009

Like every other public building in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the Veterans Center Outpatient Clinic is faux adobe.  

Tommy barely notices. He has visited the clinic for years. He served the United States as a convert mission operative during the cold war. His activity was so secret that the Veteran’s Hospital initially denied him care because he wasn’t listed in the regular military databases.

However, after several phone calls and a solid a paper trail, Tommy qualifies for a regular series of appointments with a therapist for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

The therapist helps Tommy deal with the flashbacks that trigger in his subconscious. Her care is so consistent and effective that when he feels a flashback coming on, he only has to mention her name to experience relief.

Tommy only remembers small parts of his life in the armed forces. The parts he remembers are vivid, frightening, and life altering.

He remembers going into service as one man and returning home as another.

He starts training as a member of a force of two thousand. He ends training as a member of an elite group of three hundred. Seventeen hundred other men couldn’t make the elite fighting force. However, Tommy did.

Tommy learns how to kill people and destroy things. He learns so well that he always scores among the top ten in this elite force.

He isn’t obsessed with destruction. Tommy only wants to come home alive and healthy so he learns to be the best soldier he can be.

In addition, he reasons that since he is serving during peacetime, he won’t be facing combat.

He is wrong.

When they complete training, Tommy’s group receives orders for cold war missions to blow up buildings, clear land mines, and kill more people than he can remember.

Most of those events are locked somewhere in the back of Tommy’s mind. The memories are too painful to deal with in his conscious mind so they appear as nightmares. They sneak up on him to torture and petrify Tommy.

He doesn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t for Amy.

Amy is a therapist who specializes in helping Veterans deal with PTSD. She is his savior.

Tommy thrives on his sessions with Amy. She is a professional who understands his condition. She doesn’t judge him. She doesn’t doubt him. She listens and provides advice to help him survive his attacks.

She understands PTSD evolves. She understands the attacks often become more intense as the patient works through the emotions of his suppressed experiences.

Amy measures the progress through discussing the attacks.

This visit starts with small talk. When Amy senses Tommy is ready, she asks the question that indicates it is time to get to work.

“Have you had any attacks?”

“Only one, a severe one.”

The words hang in the air. Tommy breathes deeply. He sighs.

Amy waits. Tommy knows the path to freedom comes in processing the memories. He is always a willing participant, until today.

Will Tommy be able to tell her his experience? How will Amy react to the story?

Find out when you read my next post.

Tommy’s Nightmare

Friday, November 6th, 2009

“Oh no, here it comes again!”

The persistent nightmare attacks Tommy’s mind. It floods in, gripping his heart and soul. His pulse throbs. His breathing is quick and shallow.

From the back of his mind comes a name. He reaches out to it. The name always brings relief.

“Amy, help me. Amy!”

Nothing happens.

What’s wrong? This cry always brings relief, except for this time.

The panic consumes Tommy. Did he say the wrong name? No, he is sure his savior’s name is Amy.

“Amy, help me. I need you. Please…”

It is only a nightmare at 2 AM on a Tuesday morning, a reoccurring nightmare more real to Tommy than being awake. Amy has never let him down before, until now.

Waking up would bring relief to most people. It doesn’t help Tommy. If he wakes up without resolving the attack, he will carry the panic with him all day. He has done that before and he promised his family he wouldn’t do it again. It’s too painful.

Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He digs into the sheets, lost and afraid, trying to make the attack stop.

“Amy, Amy, Amy…”

He moans the name as the tears run down his cheeks.

Tommy reaches his limits. He thinks of the gun in the closet, the pills in the cabinet, and the knife in the drawer. 

A woman suddenly appears. It isn’t Amy.

“Amy is busy right now. The angels just came and took me away. Maybe I can help you. I’m her mom.”

Tommy knows nothing about Amy’s mother. It could be her. It could be a darker part of his nightmare.

He pauses and checks his emotions. This woman appears peaceful. Tommy’s panic wanes. He decides talking to a ghost is welcome relief from his attack.

Without thinking, he asks if she would like to tell Amy anything.

She smiles.

The love in her smile reaches into  Tommy’s heart, slowing his pulse and easing his breathing.

“Amy is worried about what to do with the things I left behind. She is especially upset about my rings and dresses. Please tell her…”

She goes on to describe the property in detail. She tells Tommy which items to sell and which ones to give to whom.

Tommy remembers every description and request. He owes this to Amy.

He owes this to Amy’s mother too. Her appearance ends his nightmare.

What was Tommy’s nightmare? Who is Amy? Why did her mother’s ghost appear on this occasion?

I will answer these questions when I continue this true story in my next posts.

My Brother, the Bum

Saturday, September 12th, 2009

The blue eyes shine at me behind the old cap and the shaggy beard.

“Thank you, sir. That’s enough for both breakfast and lunch. I didn’t get either yesterday.”

Tears fill my eyes. I’ve come a long way from when I thought bums, beggars, and hobos were people to avoid; from a time when I saw them as drug addicts and alcoholics, too lazy to work, and looking to me for money for their next fix.

I once laughed when the local TV station did a hidden camera report, sent a reporter to pretend he was a bum, and begged money at the rate of more than $20 an hour. I thought the givers were fools, throwing money away to lazy, good-for-nothing people standing on the corner with the cardboard signs proclaiming their poverty.

My skepticism increased when the same station followed a beggar and discovered he parked his very nice car at the local Wal-Mart for his rush-hour begging shift. They followed him after his shift and he wasn’t homeless at all. Begging was how he made his living – a damn good living!

I decided to never give to those guys on the side of the road.

Yes, I’ve come a long way.

My change starts in California. My son, Peter, and I are on his high school graduation trip. We are touring the Pacific Coast Highway when we need a rest stop. There, Peter encounters a young couple with car trouble. They ask for help and he gives them twenty dollars.

I ask him if he felt like they really needed the help. He says “Yes.” I hear myself say. “Trust your heart.”

I think about my stingy attitude for the next several months. I realize I share humanity with the beggars and that I can give a little joy to them by being generous. It takes a while. However, I decide to give the next time I encounter someone asking for help. 

The next time is in a Santa Fe parking lot. I’m leaving a grocery store when I see a man approaching a couple in the parking lot, asking for help. I ignore him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him head my direction.

I quickly jump into my car and take off before he can speak to me. As I pull out of the parking place, I remember my commitment.

I decide to turn around, find him, and give him my gift.

I turn around and the man (the angel?) has vanished.

My next opportunity to give comes on Christmas Eve. We are in the middle lane at a stoplight when I notice a young family on the side of the road asking for a handout. I realize I don’t have anything to give. My heart aches.

A car pulls between them and me. They give. I rejoice and I make a promise to myself to always give when I see my brother or sister on the side of the road.

Living in the Moment Through the Fog

Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009

Even though Living the Southwest Lifestyle is a philosophy, it has other elements to – like sunshine. Sometimes, those elements, or the lack of them, teach the philosophy.

For example, because I live the Southwest Lifestyle, I take sunshine for granted. Some days, I never see a cloud. Even on cloudy days, the sun breaks through to create amazing light and beautiful images. This isn’t just my opinion. Movie producers flock to New Mexico because of the beautiful landscape and “amazing light.”

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that, on my current trip to Virginia, the lack of sunshine shocks me.

We leave our home at sunrise and drive into the sun for almost four hours. When we stop to get gas at Amarillo, my daughter, Naomi, goes inside to pay for the gas and take a bathroom break. When she returns, I go inside for my bathroom break and to get the change.

The conversation at the counter goes like this:

“May I help you?”

“Pump two.”

“You’re not the same person who brought in the money.”

“Yes, I am. That Texas air ages you fast…” I hand her the receipt Naomi had given me to prove its OK to give me the change.

The clerk finishes my statement “…and it changes your sex.”

We both laugh and wish each other a great day as I head out the door.

The conversation is an omen of change in the air because Amarillo is the last time we see the sun that day.

The sky turns from blue to white to gray to foggy. It is so foggy that driving becomes a challenge.

I start to fret and worry. I’m driving a GMC crew cab truck with a camper shell. In addition, I’m towing a yellow MG Midget for a friend. I have an appointment the next night in Roanoke, Virginia. That means 1900 miles of driving in two days.

I don’t have time for slowdowns due to fog, rain, or anything else.

Of course, an accident doesn’t get me to Roanoke on time either.

The question is “How can I drive safely at 70 mph in the fog?”

The answer comes in my rearview window. A truck pulling a flatbed trailer approaches in the passing lane. It becomes my guardian angel.

The truck has its running lights lit so when it passes, I follow.

I keep its rear lights in view and follow it through every lane change. I stay far enough away so that if it meets with disaster, I can hopefully avoid it. I stay close enough so I can use the lights as my guide.

I can’t see what is on the sides of the road. I can’t see past the truck in front of me. I can’t see anything except what I need to see to take the next step on my journey.

Fortunately, that’s all I need to see to live in the moment and not worry about the future.