Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen - Chapter 3

Welcome to my seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.

As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.

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Chapter 3

What do you think now Dear Reader?

Game of Thrones, a song of ice and fire?

May I help you down from the cloud you are floating on, or do you prefer delusion to reality?

Dragons were around long before "Winter was coming," or do you see the dragon as a figment of my imagination?

Let me take you by the hand and further down this path. Or if you are getting anxious, feel free to get out while you still can.

Dismayed, I stared at the water. Did I see the past, the Krotan Dua?
No, they came by boats and didn't have these long-legged animals.

The sun disappears behind the ridge and it´s cooling down quickly. Still, I am unable to move. The impressions were burned on my retina. I relived the images over and over until the message lost some of its ambiguity.

This was no ordinary meditation. Normally what I feel or see is more or less symbolic, and open to interpretation. This was different, I had only been through something similar once before.

That feeling of actually being there. Experiencing something as if it takes place in my own reality while knowing that it is yet to happen.The other time it happened my sister drowned.

It was night and from a distance I saw her silhouette come up from the river many times and then go down again. I tried to come closer as she went down again for what proved to be the last time.

I must have been twelve summers at the most, and those images sent me running toward my mother while tears streamed down my cheeks.

When I told her what I´d seen her face went white, fear clutched her heart and choked her veins. She stood motionless, speechless. It probably took a few seconds, to me it felt like hours. Then she walked to the space behind the curtain where the three of us normally slept.

She was sobbing softly. I could see her shadow standing over my sister, who had been ill for several days and was lying there alone. My mother kneeled beside her, wiping the sweat off her temples with a cool damp cloth, kissing her, then she got up and returned.

She walked to the fire and sat down cross-legged, with a wave of her hand she summoned me to sit beside her. When I sat down she took both my hands:

“Dear, your strength, your gift will enable you to help many people. You possess a very pure third eye. You are in harmony with the world around you. You are open to what she can and wants to tell you. This gift gives you the chance to perform small miracles. But, as you know, everything is at least twofold. You will have experiences, foresee things that are irreversible.”

She poured us both some tea and continued.
“Things never happen for no reason. The life of every being and the energy of every entity has a function. We will never be able to fully understand in our earthly body which one, but know that it is so. Some souls are only here for a very short time. Sometimes not long enough to learn from it themselves. Yet their arrival and departure will greatly impact their surroundings and sometimes far beyond.”

She looks away from me and stares into her wooden bowl of tea.
“Your sisters' life energy has never been strong. I often felt that she will have to leave us in due course. You witnessed her departure, to prepare, but also to learn. To learn that impermanence at this level does not mean it will be impermanent at other levels. You can't tell her anything. Trying to prevent what you saw will only make her parting harder and more painful. For you and her both. What is about to happen will happen, intervening in the course of things almost always exacerbates what is to happen."

The world didn´t exist, all I heard was her voice. She herself must have been in a trance because when she stopped talking I looked at her and noticed that her eyes had turned away in their sockets. I realized later that the calmness and certainty with which she told this was also not natural. These were not the words of a mother about to lose her child.

My sister got better. That summer she was lively and happy to be disease-free for so long.

I thought that finally, her illness had passed as in our tribe hardly anyone was sick. You were sick as a young child, but illness seemed to disappear entirely when you grew older.

My sister was different. She was gripped by one thing after another. We didn't know better than that she was sick at least half the time. Even the most potent herbs and ancient rituals did not restore her health.

Winter came, summer passed, and winter reappeared. The days had worn out the images in my memory, some days I forgot them completely.
Spring came and melted the ice caps of the distant mountains. This time of year the stream was at its widest. Soon the rice fields would be flooded as the fertile season followed that of the arid cold.

My mother and I came home after attending the village council. She walked to our alcove to check on my sister Chiara. Chiara had been ill for almost two moons now. She frequently ran a high fever which resulted in her being delirious.

Within a second she came back, her eyes wide, and her already pale face ash grey. She still held the curtain and I saw Chiara was not there. All those images, which had seeped through the cracks of my memory for months flooded back instantly.

Startled we ran into the settlement while calling her name. Soon everyone joined the search. However, they didn´t understand the fear in our eyes as nothing ever happened here.

I did not wait and ran down the stone steps toward the river. Along the stream, I met the herdsmen.
"Did you see my sister?" I asked out of breath.

They did not take me seriously.

“She must have gone for a walk, stargazing she does that often,” I heard for the umpteenth time. I knew she did enjoy the stars, but my gut told me this time was different.

With torches and a few men from the village, we searched along the banks. Our eyes pierced the darkness as we stared across the water hoping to find her, even I hoped against my better judgment.

By noon I found her wooden bead necklace, it lay among some pebbles on the riverbank near the rock where I now meditate. I never found anything other than her necklace.

That summer the dragon entered my meditations for the first time.
I named her Chiara.

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