I asked my energy mind to help me with any reversals relating to receiving money. This is what presented.
I’m in front of a bank teller. He’s serious in expression. The walls and floor are a dark grey stone and the bank is dimly lit and feels cold. There are black iron bars all around the counter.
“Yes?” he is saying. He’s dark haired, bored, dismissive, eye-rolling. I bet he LOVES his job.
“I’d like some money” I say.
“Really? I thought you were above this material stuff. Well no you can’t have it!”
“Because I said so. NEXT!”
“No, hang on. It’s my turn here. Isn’t this a bank? I’d like some money. Do I have an account here?”
“You do. And you have plenty of money in it. But I’m not going to let you have any. Good day!”
I bang my fist on the counter. “That’s really not good enough. Give it to me now! I’m a good person. I deserve to have access to my money! This is crazy!”
They roll their eyes.
I say loudly “Is there a supervisor here?!” and look around and see a well dressed, blonde haired lady coming over. Clip clopping of heels as she comes.
“Yes what’s the problem here?” she says. Far less dismissive but possibly being over polite in trying to soothe things so I leave quietly.
“I’d like some money and apparently I’m not able to?”
“Oh.” she says and looks uncomfortable. “We actually received a letter from you some time ago, requesting that if you ever came into the bank and demanded money that we were to deny you. See?” and she points to an A4 piece of paper on the wall with my photo and what seems to be a letter.
“Can I see that please?” and she hands me the letter.
I read it. It is written as though I am a zen monk who lives high on a mountain and is immune to ‘the evils of money’ and blissfully, smugly, laughingly, distanced from everything to do with it. I don’t remember writing this or thinking that I was ever undeserving. This zen monk version of me seems to have forgotten that I have bills to pay and need to buy food with something other than Monopoly money.
I turn the letter over and scrawl on the back of the paper with a black pen that was resting on the bank counter.
“To whom it may concern,
Please give me all of the money that is mine and intended for me, without question or delay. I am deserving and entitled and open to receiving it. Please disregard any previous correspondence and refer to this letter in future.
Yours, Kelly B.,
I hand it over and the bank teller and the supervisor read it together. Their eyes light up and expressions change. They smile openly and are attentive and enthusiastic.
They hand me a wrapped stack of $2,000 in $100 notes. I put them in my bag. They both wish me a great day as I head toward the door of the bank where bright light is shining through. “Come back soon!” they say. I smile all the way out of the bank!