I think in my heart of hearts I have always been a spiritualist. For the life of me, I have never been able to put behind me certain events that I’ve observed throughout my life. None of those episodes had anything to do with the Bible or with experiences in the Christian church, mind you. In church I mostly experienced the pettiness that some humans can show.
Psychic phenomena is one of those things that intrigues me. While I do realize that most psychics are fake, especially the public figures, there are instances of the phenomenon that I can’t sweep under the rug. I just can’t. I’m convinced that we are all connected in some fashion, to each other, to nature, and to all living creatures.
It was raining hard one night, when my sister, sleeping in a bed next to mine, woke up screaming at about 1 am. She yelled, “Don’t, don’t. Do not step on the ground. It’s full of mud. There is mud everywhere.”
Being more asleep than awake, I returned to my slumber. In the morning, when I woke her up to get ready for school, she said she was ill.
“I have a fever. I don’t feel well at all.”
“But you were OK last night. Do you have a cold?”
“No, it started when I had that nightmare in the middle of the night.”
Then my brother said that school was cancelled.
“Apparently there was a mudslide in the west side, at about 1 am. Hundreds of people are dead, buried in mud.”
My sister and I looked at each other. But we didn’t talk about it. It was too scary for our teenage minds to process. Her fever had gone away by midday. She was fine.
In my homeland, the poor often live on the hillsides, in cardboard made little “houses,” with very little protection from the elements. It is hard to forget an event that took so many lives in an instant.