(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2248 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
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I had a dilemma. It would appear that Ingrid doesn’t know of my alter ego in the form of the mysterious healer. An appearance is always a risk, let’s face it, that guy two thousand years ago got into trouble for it and he didn’t have the disadvantage of the internet reporting on him two seconds after he’d raised the dead or whatever.
I went to my study to contemplate. I did have a plan, but whether it would work was another matter. I didn’t even know if I still possessed any healing skills, and I hadn’t heard the girls talk about it for a while–it’s almost as if they had forgotten or unlearned how to do it. Perhaps that’s how it leaves–pretends it never existed–and you forget.
I sat and tried to meditate, difficult when a small cat is doing its best to ascend your curtains using crampons. “Bramble, if you don’t stop annoying me, I’m going to wring your neck and see if I can resurrect you, you feline toerag.”
She just squeaked at me and continued her ascent of the north face of the study curtains. Angrily, I threw some energy at her and it knocked her off the curtain and against the wall, dislodging some books which nearly decapitated her. I gasped in horror. I ran through what I had just witnessed, I flung my hand at her and a bolt of blue energy caught her admid-ships and knocked her clean off the curtain. The books fell off the bookcase and hit the floor by the side of her. She was currently peering at me from under the coffee table with understandable suspicion.
It appeared I still had some sort of access to the energy. As soon as I opened the door the cat fled through it like a demon was after her. In fact I wasn’t, I was sitting cross legged on the sofa trying to centre down. I hadn’t done it for ages and it is a practised skill, I was signally out of practice.
I have no idea how long it took but suddenly I was floating out of my body. I chose to go direct my mind to the hospital and to intensive care in particular. In no time–ha, on the astrals there is no time–I felt myself standing next to David’s bed. A nurse was taking his blood pressure and I walked past her. She looked up, shuddered slightly and continued what she was doing. David was either asleep or unconscious.
The nurse wrote something on his notes and left. I sat on the edge of the bed and spoke to him. He could hear me but seemed unable to respond. I deemed him to be either sedated or unconscious. Tuning into him I went into his mind and memories. His father had died of a heart condition and he expected to do so himself, it ran in the male side of the family.
Oh boy, this is going to be a little difficult. I tuned in some more and eventually found him sitting by a pool in a very lovely garden–why is it always a garden? “What are you doing here?” I asked firmly.
“Hello, Cathy, I could ask you the same thing–it isn’t your time yet is it?”
“Good lord, no. I’m only visiting.”
“Oh, anyone I know?”
“Yes you, you dummy.”
“What for?”
“You’re a damn good cook, that’s why.”
“That all?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
“Not really.”
“How about Hannah and Ingrid miss you.”
“They’ll manage.”
“Why should they, you’re not dead.”
“Just a matter of time.”
“We could all say that, meaning, fifty years or more.”
“I think mine is days rather than years.”
“How come?”
“Heart disease–runs in the family.”
“Yes, linked to the male side.”
“Exactly.”
“To the Y chromosome.”
“Yeah, so?”
“There is the little matter of you not having any.”
“What?”
“Your body is biologically female, or it was before you started altering things. So the deadly gene or whatever, doesn’t apply to you.”
“But I’m a man, in I?”
“Yes, and fine one at that, but just as my femaleness is physically expressed, it’s partly an illusion. My genetics remain male and yours female. You cannot inherit the heart disease, not the sort that killed your dad and grandfather.”There were obviously other types but I didn’t wish to cloud the issue.
“Are you sure about that, Cathy? I thought it was connected to testosterone?”
“What do I do for a living?”
“Drink tea down at the university with selected dormice?”
“Yeah, don’t forget the selected bit.”
“I presume you teach or do research.”
“In what do I teach or research?”
“Duh–the university.”
“In what subject?”
“Dormice?”
“Which of the sciences deals with that?”
“How do I know, I’m a bloody cook.”
“It’s not particle physics, is it?”
“How do I know?”
“Could it be biology?”I was patronising him but he wasn’t trying very hard, anyone would think he was seriously ill or something.
“Yeah, biology–yeah that’s it.”
“Exactly, so you would expect a biologist to know about things like genetics, seeing as they’re a biological system.”
“I suppose so.”
“Well then, I can assure you that your heart is okay and you won’t die like your dad did.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, his was sex linked.”
“Well he ’ad sex quite often, so it could be.”
“Sex linked means linked to male or female genes.”
“Oh does it?”
“Yes, it’s like pregnancy, it doesn’t happen without a pair of X chromosomes.”
“Hey that’s a good one.”
“Well of course it is, I spend all day at the university dreaming up jokes to put on the internet.”
“No wonder you get so tired.”
“Indeed. Now that we’ve agreed you don’t have an inherited heart problem, I’m going to fill you with energy to heal up the damage caused by the pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia? I ’ad pneumonia?”
“Yes, had being the operative word.”
“No wonder I feel rough.”
“Quite, but you’re feeling so much better.”
“People die with that–my granny did–maybe I’ve inherited that instead?”
“I’ve checked you out, you haven’t.”
“You could be just saying that.”
“Do you honestly think I’ve taken all this trouble to find you just to wind you up? Bloody hell, man, I’ve got better things to do with my time...”
“Yeah, writing jokes for the internet.”
“Quite–now listen here, I have to go in a moment. I can lead you back to your body.”
“No thanks, I’ll stay here.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Well because a woman I know is worrying herself to death about you, and a little girl is worried about her adopted dad. They both love you, you chump.”
“They’ll get over it–me.”
“Oh you really are a man, aren’t you? Selfish twit, only concerned about yourself.”
“Hey, hang on there, I care about them, too.”
“Prove it.”
“They’ll get my insurance money.”
“Whoopee doo–what about the man they both love?”
“They’ll find another, women always do.”
“I can’t believe you would turn your back on those two grieving girls.”
David began to cry. “You’re right, I can’t–I can’t leave them.”
“Here, take my hand.” He did and I filled him with energy and dragged him back to his body. “Now get in there and sort yourself out.”
“What?” he said and I pushed him into his ailing body, and the machines monitoring him went berserk. Nurses came running and I took my leave knowing that his body would now do as I told it, and heal itself.
“Cathy?” Simon’s voice seemed a long way off. “Are you all right?” In response I managed to open my eyes. “Phew, you had me worried for a moment.”
“Sorry, I was meditating and fell asleep, can’t move now.”
He gently eased me off the sofa and I stretched my aching limbs. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome–Oh Ingrid just called, David is out of crisis–just happened, one minute his heart and kidneys are packing up and the next he’s bouncing round again, all systems go. She says she prayed to the healing spirit to help him.”
“It must have worked, then.”
“So nothing to do with you then?”
“I’ve been here all evening, haven’t I?”
He looked suspiciously at me, “Oh, she said to say thanks to you.”
“What for?” I wondered if she’d twigged.
“She says you suggested it.”
Phew, that was close. “I might have done, can’t remember.”
“Come on, I’ve just made a cuppa for you...”
“Now you’re talking...”
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Comments
Very Dennis Wheatley ...
... all this Astral Plain stuff. Years since I read any but it's very similar. Must be nice to be able float around like that and saves on petrol :) Usual crazy Cathy banter even when the spirit world is concerned.
thanks
Robi
Cathy seems pretty skilled at debate
especially in a "life and death" situation. Glad she was effective.
Glad to see...
Glad to see that Cathy is branching out to other planes.
I think this is a new step in her mastery of the Blue Light.
BUT
the days that are the best are the days in make believe, on a different plane from the one we are flying in, alas.
I so wish that the Lady Catherine could go to the house in Oxton near Newark, Notts UK and work some magic on my soulmate, who has a serious heart condition and who is trying to recover from emergency surgery done in Malta and from further treatment in Nottingham after a yet another heart attack. Her own hope of recovery is fading and she seems to be giving up and there is no way I can reach her even on the phone - it may even be too late already.
I hate getting old - all my friends and cousins and everyone I know seem to be dropping dead all over the place, leaving me as a kind of left over dinosaur that somehow managed to stop growing up and getting old, except inside I feel so tired and weak without them all.
Briar
Angharad--
you got to me tonight (OK it is morning here now) but I just finished watching U-tube videos of Betty Eadie (she wrote Embrace The Light) about her death experience. She wrote about leaving her body - visiting her family - found that they were alright - she visited the garden after seeing the light & following it. She wrote that she was advised to return to her body because she had not finished her mission here and was told what her mission was and that she would forget what it was when she returned to her body. The url for the first video is - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SuBRNGAqOM - and there are 4 videos of her plus an interview with Oprah Winfrey.
It is eerie that you wrote this episode at the same time I was following up on a reference from a girl friend in the US after one of our discussions on the after life and old souls versus young ones.
I know that some day you will have to terminate this fantastic saga but I hope that I can out last your writing career and actually see the end before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
Thank you ever so much for your continuing scribbles.
Ruth
May the sun always shine on your parade
Just whizzing by ...
to say good story.
Gorra' go.
Thanks.
Bev.
xxx
When i said
yesterday that Cathy needed to use subterfuge, I thought maybe a disguise or something like that.... Never expected her to not have to even go there to sort out her misinformed chef, Still all's well that ends well... Simon will be pleased that his taste buds are once again going to be titillated.... As for Cathy well she will just be relieved... No more cooking.
Kirri