Journey To Remembering

Journey to Remembering—


Telling you my story isn’t a choice, it is necessary if I am going to fulfill the prophecy and save the world from its demise. I can’t do it alone—I need you. The prophecy states I have two weeks to find the final doorway or all of humanity will perish and creation as we know it will be gone. I have done all I can do. Now it is up to you. You must remember. Your remembering is the key that will finally unlock the seventh doorway. This book will help you remember.

The first six doorways gave me glimpses of the infinite nature of Self yet, without the seventh it is like solving 5 sides of a Rubik’s cube and realizing the sixth side is still jumbled. When I say that you have to remember I am not referring to remembering where you put your keys or what you had for lunch yesterday. I’m talking about remembering who you were before you came into this physical form. Before you became susceptible to the virus and unknowingly gave up your power, lost control of your mind and tapped into the constant stream of fear. How can you remember something that you have forgotten that you ever even knew?

I have seen with my own eyes the infinite and limitless capabilities of mankind—of you. I have seen what it feels like to live free of the mind with all of its imagined limitations, boundaries and restraints and have come to know the love we are all made of. I intend to show you that this is the life you were meant to live.



How do women do this? Linda thought. Never could she have fathomed a pain so great would accompany such a blessed event. She was wiping down the large, oak, slab kitchen table Steve had made from that tree that fell in last year’s storm when the first contraction hit her like an earthquake. Tensing with pain, her face rapidly flooded with heat. Like mercury rising in a thermometer, her blood pressure climbed causing her olive skin to flush and redden and her blue eyes to turn bloodshot. She likened the feeling to having the wind knocked out of her, making breathing and moving difficult. Leaning onto the sturdy table she used it as a crutch. Clenching her teeth, she bore down. Moments later the vice grip tightening around her chest and belly released. A brief flash of physical relief was followed by the rush of emotions as the sound of water pouring onto the laminate, wood floor she spent an hour cleaning that morning informed her it was time.

Even before glancing down, she knew her water had broke. But the affirmation as she crouched over, still bracing herself with the table and opened her eyes to see the bloody mucus in the puddle on the floor, was more than she could take. Oh no she thought there is no stopping this now.

Grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess, another stronger contraction came. She couldn’t deny it anymore. This was happening. Steve had been gone for almost three hours and she knew it wasn’t likely he would return anytime soon.

None of the birthing books had prepared her for this. And the pain was so great that her brain just couldn’t seem to access anything helpful. She knew she needed to breathe. The books said there was a rhythm, one big inhale and three small exhales. Trying to find the rhythm and keep her mind on something other than the catastrophic situation she was in she closed her eyes and counted her inhale, “ one…two…three…”

She shuddered and her eyes popped open in panic as her Picpocket, a device the Grand Master had mandated for every person to carry, vibrated and flashed with the emergency alert from the coffee table a few feet away. If there was a small thread holding her pieces together, the vague outline of his face flashing across the screen, in tandem with his voice like screeching tires just before someone smashes into you, caused it to break and she crumbled. No please…. She thought…not now.

BEEEEEPPP…the Picpocket made another loud alarm sound. His voice again, “Florida is officially in a code red for horror! It is time to panic. The Horror is spreading at an uncontrollable rate and we still don’t know what it is.”

“AAAAHHHH!!”” She screams… “Why!”

And it turns into uncontrollable tears.

With a Code red horror announcement even if she found a way to the hospital, a 30-minute drive in good conditions, the hospitals would be full. Florida was in a state of emergency. The biggest storm ever reported, a category 7, was so powerful it was swirling the ocean. It was on its way to the Florida coast bringing impending doom. For the past week they were being told that this storm was so powerful it may sink Florida entirely. Even with the fear of being submerged in water, she figured her safest bet was to just stay where she was. The roads were dead locked with people trying to get as far away from the coast as possible. This meant she was not only stuck—no one would be able to get to her either.

Her throat began to tighten. As if someone was strangling her. Uh oh she thought, Jesus! Calm down Linda! Get a handle on yourself. This is the last thing you need… just breath in and out.

Hyperventilation was nothing new to Linda. When she was nine her parents had run outside after hearing her scream. She was on the front lawn holding their bloody dog, looking up like a baby bird with her mouth wide open gasping for air. She had just saved him from the jaws of the neighbor’s dog when the fire fighters arrived. The one with the bright blue eyes had said, “You are a hero. Sometimes heroes can hyperventilate as a result of a boost in adrenaline. Adrenaline is like your superpower juice. It helps you to be so strong you can lift a car but afterwards, it can cause a little trouble. The cure to the trouble is to take a paper bag and breath in and out of it.” It worked that day and she had used it ever since.

Hearing the voice of the man with the blue eyes once again she knew a brown paper bag would do the trick so she headed into the kitchen to grab a paper bag from the drawer by the sink.

Oh no another one she thought as she braced herself with the kitchen counter. Hoping the little bit of oxygen she was able to squeeze through her condensed airway would be enough to get through the contraction she held her breath and closed her eyes. Then it released.

The contraction was over, and she felt faint. She hurried the bag to her mouth and inhaled. The bag crinkled up and as it shrunk it revealed the window directly in front of her. And there, adorned with lights, was her favorite part of their home—the wishing tree. I love that tree she thought as her throat began to loosen. The tree reminded her of the days before the horror when her and Steve were happy. She thought back to the day went the tree went from any old regular tree to their special place.

Linda had barely made it into the house, and hadn’t had time to set her purse down, “Come I have something to show you.” Steve haad said as he flipped his baseball cap around backward revealing his green eyes gleaming with that mysterious sparkle he would get from time to time that she loved so much. Grabbing her hand and whipping her through the sliding door to the backyard. His tank top and shorts were wet with sweat and his dark brown curls were matted to his head. She thought I love this man as he said,

“Linda, I built us a swing. But… this is more than just a swing… You see, I just found out a secret. This tree is special. Not only is it one of the oldest trees in the neighborhood but, it is a Kappalvrksha tree. A man came to our door today and told me that he has been studying these trees for most of his life and he had tracked the remaining 7 trees down and one is in our backyard! He asked if he could look at it and the moment he did… he almost fell over. He said it was the first one he had seen in person. He said there is lots of folklore around the magical abilities of these trees. He said the grant wishes. AFter he left I thought why nnot build a swing so we can sit out here and tell the tree all of our wishes.”

She sat in the swing and rested her head on his chest.

and he said, “Well, my love…Tell me a wish.”

She had answered, “I wish that we remember this moment always and that someday we will have a family…”

Oh Steve, this is it. We are definitely going to be a family… but, this wasn’t the way I envisioned it happening. She thought.

Having announced the highest level of Horror announced in over one hundred and fifty years the Grand master had unleashed an unprecedented level of fear unto the masses. The response was shutting everything down including the power plants. No Air conditioning had led her to dig through their closets earlier to find a battery-operated fan. The one she had would only work at the low setting due to the limited charge. They hadn’t prepared for any of this.

The paper bag in one hand and her Picpocket in the other she walked back towards the couch. Her picpocket was the only contact with the outside world, and she had a mere 20% battery life remaining. Deciding she could spare 10% she searched VidLand for videos of home birthing. Although the internet was spotty, she was momentarily comforted by the midwives voice. “One of the most successful birthing postures for my mom’s is leaning over the couch like this.” She was demonstrating getting on your knees in front of the couch and using the couch to lean forward. Linda did what she said.

Once on her knees, she whispered, “Please god… please, I beg you to help me get through this”. Her blonde hair was stuck to her forehead, glued by sweat. The storm over the ocean had caused a strange weather pattern and Florida was experiencing a very unusual heat for December. Everything was topsy turvy. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so hot. The fan sent warm air at her face like someone’s hot breath. Every breath was a struggle and even though she had no past experience in childbirth as a basis for it, she couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling that something was very wrong.

Her bodies attempt to cool itself created drops of perspiration that trickled from the back of her neck down the center of her spine, pooling at her low back. Every few minutes she felt the pool overflow, and a small stream of hot liquid poured down the side of her oversized belly. Even the candles light was weakened, dampened by the Florida humidity. The air was heavy, this in tandem with the baby pressing on her diaphragm made breathing far less satisfying than usual. Knowing that Eve would be born soon, there was hope that the vice clamping down on her ribcage would release. That was one of the few encouraging thoughts that managed to break through the broken record stuck on why me? Why now, playing over and over in her mind. Eve couldn’t have picked a worse day to arrive.

It had been five hours since the contractions began and it had taken everything out of her, she was so weak and no matter how many times she looked at the door Steve never walked through it. “WHY?!?” Oh no… she thinks… It is time. I have to push! She grabs her Picpocket to call Steve but, just as she picks it up the battery dies. Please get here Steve…Please, she cried. I can’t do this on my own. Although it was looking like she wasn’t going to have a choice. One Inhale and 3 small exhales later and “arghhhhh…”

Linda could feel the head coming out… She wasn’t going to be able to stop it now. Eve was coming whether she liked it or not. Her knuckles were white gripping the cushion as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of a mountain. As the contractions intensified, she buried her face into the cushion to muffle the sound of her screams.

Then the thirst came. The most incredible thirst she had ever felt. It came out of nowhere. Why hadn’t she grabbed some water, she thought. Having lived in Florida heat her whole life she had experienced the thirst of dehydration before…this was different. This was an all-encompassing thirst that took over her mind. Their entire apartment wasn’t more than 700 square feet…a reservoir of water was just 9 small steps away at the kitchen sink. Yet, it could have been in the next county. The fact that it was so close just made her feel like she was being taunted. Like someone who had snake venom coursing through their body and the antidote was just out of reach. She imagined what it would be like to guzzle a giant glass of water. Her mouth was so dry and her eyes were burning. She lifted her head to make an effort to move and everything just spun.

One more inhale three small exhales and she bore down again. She knew she wasn’t done… that she needed to keep pushing but, she was just so tired. Even without moving, taking a breath felt like the most incredible effort. She decided to just rest between the breaths, even just rest her eyes now stinging from the dryness. She felt so weak even the smallest movement felt like running a marathon, until everything stopped. Like flipping a light switch from on to off.

It was so dark, a darkness she had never experienced before. Not the kind of darkness that feels bleak or riddled with fear or worry of what is lurking in the shadows—there was nothing. No pain, no struggle, no fear—nothing. She felt free. Her mom and dad were there, and they were laughing as the much smaller Linda spun herself around in the meadow by their house on a warm summer day, until she fell. The sweet smell of flowers; lilacs and tulips carried by a gentle breeze across her nostrils. Steve was there he was next to her… She was older… and… he called her name and she drifted off.