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Why Your Visions Are Real
SPIRITUALITY 10/06/2039 1:48 AM ET
Why Your Visions Are Real

Ruth Jones
New woman for a new world, candy addict

CC BY 4.0 girl's bed by Jo Guldi | Writer image: CC BY 4.0 150217-woman-portrait-SuperBabe.jpg by R. Nial Bradshaw | Images were cropped. Images used for illustration purposes only.
My old bed at Gemmy's house.
I still remember the feeling.

I was nine, and I had been sleeping at my grandmother's house for two weeks, while my parents worked on their relationship. There had been a lot of fighting the past year and it had taken its toll on my sister and myself.

We had been shipped to the small suburb my "Gemmy" had lived all her life just outside Dallas, sort of like packages to be received and opened and enjoyed. I say this because Gemmy loved us like her own children. Grandpop had died decades earlier of emphysemia and she didn't get much family.

I still remember the smell, a sort of musty with a whiff of Gemmy's perfume which made me think of what the second World War must have smelled like from the perspective of an allied soldier tearing through French villages. The house had a faintness of spirit which gave off a feeling that our family's heritage was embedded here somehow, someway. The walls were painted in now-faded hues of lime and peach which made me think of being in a grove somewhere.

Every night, Gemmy would tuck us in by bringing us cookies and a hot chocolate. My sister - Abbie - and I would listen in our twin single beds, to stories of her and Grandpop's travels; we'd ask questions as we picked crumbs from the blankets and sipped our cooling hot chocolates. Her smile and her gentleness made everything seem right. She would tuck us in with a kiss on the forehead and then turn the lights out, wishing us the sweetest of sweet dreams.

Then one day, there it was.

I had been sleeping poorly for several nights - I don't remember why. One night, I had tossed and turned until the early hours, and I recall nothing except waking with a start. A golden glow bathed the room in the warmth of the early morning.

There was a figure standing at the end of my bed. It was something like a woman, draped in a white nightdress, thinly standing there, watching me. I blinked a few times and asked Gemmy if it was her, and the figure silently shook its head. Squinting, I asked who it was a received no reply. I remember a smile.

Quickly looking over at my sister, still sleeping, I turned back, and she was gone. Puzzled, I fell back to sleep and woke a few hours later to the smell of pancakes.

At the breakfast table I told Gemmy about what I had seen - had she encountered anything similar? "Oh yes," she replied, "many times...that's your guide," she offered, setting maple syrup next to my plate. Over the course of breakfast she told us she had been seeing her "guide" for decades, and had even consulted professionals to try to get in touch with it. Only once had it communicated in language, calling itself Mary. Gemmy said she could hear the name in her head.

A recent poll by Ouna states that 45% of Americans have had visions at some point in their lives. 70% of that group indicate that they believe the vision to have been a positive influence in their lives. Both numbers are up from a decade ago.

We need to clearly understand the visions we see as the guiding lights that they are. My guide has led me throughout my life, appearing sometimes in moments of great stress, and sometimes simply appearing. Mine rarely communicates, but she appeared not long after my Gemmy died, to let me know she was alright, and at peace.

There are some who will vilify our guides. They are the usual suspects, seeking to force their dogma upon us, and convince us that their ideas are correct. Their judgement is almost more than I can stand sometimes. Ironically, whenever I am confronted by such people it makes me want to see my guide even more, for the comfort.

Not everyone will understand the idea of visions, guides and spirits. Perhaps these are angels, sent to help us live our best life.

Either way, we must not let ourselves be hindered in this unique and loving connection.
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