When Something Extraordinary Happens


When something extraordinary happens to you, you have a choice. Keep it to yourself, say nothing to anyone and, try to forget it. Or, share it with the world.

At the risk of appearing foolish, some would choose to remain quiet and let it go. But for those swept up by the sheer phenomenon, it is hard to disregard. To be part of an experience so exceptional and not of this world, must have a reason, and a purpose, I thought…and why me?

I pondered these questions in my mind for weeks and months before coming to my conclusion. I had to share this story with the world. Others would decide themselves whatever they would make of it.

I concluded that my purpose was to report what had happened and exactly how it felt. I was witness to a three dimensional paranormal event. I took part in and also watched from two different vantage points, all at the same time. This event, so unique, mind-blowing and miraculous, made me consider my own sanity at times. And, the reason that I had to write everything down before I forgot and lost it.

I had to find a way to tell the story without implicating any of the living family, who wanted to remain anonymous. I came up with the idea of a book. With blessings and approval from the family who had invited me into their mysterious photograph, I set out to begin my report.

I had no plan in front of me as I began to type on my new laptop that my husband had bought me for Christmas. I had no draft or story outline. I sat down and started typing. My fingers raced over the keys with such speed. The story flowed of its own accord, as I tried to recall each feeling of the events.

It seemed to me that my sensitivity to energy was at an all time high. I was reliving each feeling as I remembered the events. Fear of something I was not yet aware of…but the feeling of fear was so over-whelming, it compelled me to carry on.

I remember feeling duty bound to get it right…keep to the facts, no embellishments. Little sentences formed in my mind to keep me on track. But, for most of the time I was on autopilot typing vigorously without a plan. I could feel the atmosphere of the setting as I typed.

The smells of the surrounding farmyard and the rain on the wet grass were so sharp, and intense. I knew I was there, but I was also watching from a different place above. As I sat in front of my little laptop typing, I could see the entire setting. My fingers flashed over the keys furiously, lest I miss some important detail.

And then it was out of me…and I sighed exhausted, and cried with relief…it had form. Now I had to turn it into a book.

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