I went downtown again to meet my friend. As I waited, I walked around town, talking to Alfred and my spirit guides. As I walked out of the restroom at Nordstroms, I thought to myself, I want to look at myself closely in the mirror.
Go over and look at yourself in the mirror for a bit. Alfred said, in a far off, schizophrenic sounding voice. See that? That's what real voices are like! When someone is telling the schizophrenic person what to do, it is usually stuff they wanted to do anyway.
Are the voices a product of their own brains, or spirits?
Usually, spirits. It can be their own brain though, sometimes. Usually with that, their brain phrases it a certain way before they do it, and it accidentally becomes conscious.
What about people who have voices keep a running commentary of their thoughts and actions?
Those are usually meddlesome spirits. They usually throw in snide remarks too. Just messing around. They are bad spirits.
We left the restroom, and walked down the street. I met my friend and took the bus home. On the way, I imagined my spirit guides.
I don't know who these people are, who tell me what to do all the time. But I like to think of them as happy fairies, I told my guides. In my mind I imagined pixies with fairy wands, smiling happily, with pixie dresses of all different colors.
As I was drifting off into a hypnagogic state, I heard the word “Abigail.” My spirit guides were talking about a woman on a different plane named Abigail. I vaguely wondered if they were talking to me, but then decided they were not.
When I got home, I sat in the family room. Alfred told me about the man who had told me to mix around the pills in the drawers. He lived outside in a homeless shelter, in downtown Portland.
I realized, with a funny lightbulb moment, that he was right. I did associate that man with homelessness, and the sleeping bags under bridges, the fights with other homeless men for drugs, and the crack.
Why did I make that association?
We referenced the man in your mind in downtown Portland, when I told you to look at yourself in the mirror. Subconsciously, you made a connection between that man and the homeless people on the streets.
I thought this was really funny. I asked, Who did those voices, all of them?
It was me, sweetie. Some of it was your own brain acting up due to the funny state we had you in, but... For the most part, I did all of the important ones.
We sat in the computer room, late at night, and talked. As I was sitting there in a near trance, Alfred said, “Abigail...” in a dreamy sort of way.
Immediately, something inside myself shifted. I felt like I had gone into a trance. I started talking about Alfred.
“You know, this man here... This Alfred fellow... He's the sweetest man I know. He's such a vibrant, youthful soul. In a good way, not a bad way. I would even say.. A succulent soul. That's what he is to me. A succulent soul. When I look at his face, I think of all the beauty that has come together in all the world, because he reminds me of who I really am, and what I could be, and where I've been. When we are together, it is like a matter of whims controlling each other, and we dance in a harmonic passion, and our youthful stride pretend to exude a sense of whimsy. Why, I don't understand why it has to be this way, I mean, he's there, I'm here. So does that make me the better soul? I don't think so. I think I was just the lucky soul, and he was, so succulent, so, so succulent...”
I came out of the trance. What was that? I asked.
You are on a funny spiritual plane right now. When you are in an altered state, you can go into a trance easily through saying the right word, much like with hypnotism.
Huh, that's nice. I meant it, though. I love him.
I know you do, sweetie. What do you think I think of what you said?
I think you probably thought it was pleasant.
I thought, that's it, that's it... And he did a motion of him stroking my hair while I sucked his cock.
What is it about you? You are always so marvelous, yet you never cease to amaze me with your ingrained ways of pretending I enjoy your sexual advances, and I do.. But that's not it... You love to understand why I have funny pleasant thoughts of you, and I understand it's because I love your soul... Your succulent, succulent soul...
You are almost out of the trance, don't worry, it's temporary.
Why is it that he can't come to Earth? Is he a weak soul?
It's none his own fault, Salioness, said one of my guides. They made a mistake upon coming to this dimension. It happens quite frequently. Some of your friends are silia and have a soul. One of your uncles, and one of the therapists at Innercept have souls and are silia. Usually, the souls who are souls would otherwise spend many, many lifetimes as plants and animals, trying to build up the strength they were supposed to have initially but were not given. It is not a weakeness of his, not at all. It is completely irrelevant to intelligence, power, or any of the other good traits souls have. It is something else entirely. Don't worry, he's a good soul.
A succulent soul.
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