EARLY MEMORIES

He was dressed in a robe with a hood over his head — I could not see his face; at least I have no conscious memory of his face and he would stand at a distance from me, looking at me. I knew he was somehow a part of me. I would be aware of his vibration; it announced his presence before I would physically see him.

I have a really clear memory of the first time I saw him. I was a newborn. I think I was in a crib, or perhaps it was a cot. I remember the wooden, vertical slats that formed my bed. I could see the room quite clearly even though it was dark. I could distinguish between the three doors in the bedroom. One of them opened to a wardrobe. The second opened to a cupboard with shelving. The third door opened to the hallway.

I could see him standing there, between the wardrobe and cupboard doors, watching me. My eyes looked over to where my parents lay sleeping in their bed, and I could not understand how it was that they did not sense his presence and wake up. I think that really disturbed me — that they did not wake up. I was more anxious and puzzled than afraid.

This is the earliest memory I have on this earth.

I know that my parents preferred their babies to be in a room of their own. That way baby and parents were not unnecessarily disturbed by each other; so I must have been new in this world for my parents to have had me sleeping in their bedroom.

Often I would wake up with the feeling that my thumbs were being pulled as if to pull me out of bed. I always understood that he was not physically touching me — his vibratory energy was such that the effect on my body felt like physical touch. Why it was that my thumbs responded so I cannot say.

I resisted his pull on my thumbs so strongly. Sometimes I would awaken, feeling his presence close to me; before I felt my thumbs being pulled. We always seemed to have such a battle over my poor thumbs!

As I grew older and was able to speak, I would tell my parents about my nightly visitor. I was constantly told I was having nightmares.

Thus, I learned my parents' fears. I became very afraid of those nightmares and afraid to be alone in the dark. I was given a nightlight, and I would cry if left alone in the dark. My parents thought the light would help me feel comforted, less afraid, but the nightlight did not deter my nightly "visitor."

His regular visits seemed to end when I was eight years old.

I remember the last night he came. The light was magnificent: bright, white, glowing, and all encompassing. The light seemed to pour in through the windows of the room off my bedroom. It would fill that room and spill over into my bedroom.

I could feel his presence, yet at first I could not see him.

Then I saw him. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom; I could feel the familiar pull on my thumbs. That night, he seemed to have a much stronger effect on me. The pull on my thumbs was so insistent. Actually, I do not remember being afraid that night. I felt very determined. Our battle seemed to go on for quite some time. I remember my acute awareness of the white light. Then he seemed to be the light — the light radiating outward from his being. Then he was gone.

Except for the subtle knowing awareness of him being close by from time to time, I have no conscious memory of seeing him again. Even into adulthood, I was always afraid to sleep with my thumbs sticking out from under the bed covers — just in case he came to get me.

In time, I would learn that my nightly visitor is of the Priesthood of Light — a very enlightened being. It would take time for me to have the awareness that it was a privilege that he should come to me. He could be described as one of the shrouded ones — they are very holy beings, not seen very often.

I must say that as a child absorbing the fears that our earthbound limitations teach us, I did not feel terribly privileged about these visitations. There were times when I found it quite difficult to see him as a holy being when all he seemed to do was terrorize me.

I have questioned why, as a new babe, I did not recognize this holy being. Let's face it — he had a rather scary appearance standing there in front of me. I am reminded that such descriptions are really very earth related. In spirit, we do not require such grandiose descriptions. We simply are.

I remember, initially, I was not afraid — fear seemed to come with the conditioning that we are raised with. We are told as children that our invisible friends are not real — we then push them away; in time, we do forget them and move into the world with our consciousness dimmed. Most often, we just forget.

I had now reached a point in my life where I was more than ready for clarification — from my own consciousness. I was ready to accept answers to my questions no matter what those answers were. I needed to find those answers for myself. I had spent the previous twelve months recovering from some serious operations. My subsequent health problems left me struggling to regain a sense of normality. I wanted some answers. I wanted to know why my guardian angel had not come to me when I cried out to him for help.

I had tried many times to ask the universe about this visitor who interrupted me nightly as a child. I had not felt that I had received an answer and was somewhat resentful. As I look back, I know that I asked from a place of resentfulness.

This time, it was different. I was in a place of total peacefulness and acceptance. There was no resentment in my being; there was no fear; there was no attitude. I felt so much at peace, with acceptance that I can truly say I asked in love that I be given the knowledge of whom this being is, and why, and what the significance of him has been and will be in my life.

That night, I had an awareness of this shrouded one distantly around me. My awareness even seemed to penetrate my sleep. I knew at times he...