The contents of the energy mind cost nothing to access and use, yet experiences like these are priceless. Thank you for reading and enjoying these personal experiences.
I drop into Sanctuary tonight with the intention of revisiting with a particular old friend. My cat who died in June 2009. I leave the door to my cabin slightly ajar. I can hear crickets chirping and it is a dark night with twinkling stars. It is a little cold and I shiver as I walk in a long cotton nightgown and pull back my covers and lay down in bed, pulling my bed covers back over me. They are soft and have some weight to them tonight, heavier than usual. I feel comforted and the bed is soft underneath me too.
The cabin is dark and still and I hear a slight creak of the wooden door. I look over and I see my old friend, Itten, a tabby cat. He looks up at me with such a happy expression and leaps up onto the bed, purring and walking back and forth and in circles. I am so happy to see him again and give him all the pats and love that I have. I tell him I have missed him and he pushes his cat face against my chin.
He eventually calms down, walks in circles beside me and finds himself a comfy place there. His fur is so soft just like I remember it to be. I want to communicate with him here but I’m not sure how. I pat his head and run my hand down his back and tell him how sorry I am that things were so messy when he died. I was very stressed at the time and I begin to explain and he swipes me with one paw as if to tell me to stop. I am sensing communication from him (intuitive) and it is “That doesn’t matter. Things happened how they were supposed to. I had to go, it was time for me to go. You didn’t cause it to happen, it was predestined and my time was up.” I nod and give him more pats.
I ask him if he has seen my son who (in ‘the hard’) I was pregnant with at the time he died. I wanted to know in some way whether he had got to see him. He laughed, in a cat way, which is really hard to explain, but he laughed and said “He is great, a bundle of energy, we would have got along well”, and I agreed with him. He is saying that my son would benefit from a cat in the house and he is giving me a mental image of a black cat with yellow eyes and subtle white markings, as if that is the cat for my son.
I ask him if he minds the fact that there are chickens in his old cat house now. He is showing me himself in the cat house, as though he is still there in his old form yet looking on in approval.
I ask him what his favourite thing was about his life with us. He says “you” and shows me a zillion mental images of him sitting beside me on the couch, on the bed, being patted, being talked to, being played with. He rests his chin on me and closes his eyes. He loved me so very much it is undeniable.
I ask him if he has a question for me. He asks why did I not like him sometimes. And I remember yelling at him for being persistent with ‘asking’ for food, annoying me when I was trying to do something, being all over me sometimes. I tell him that I’m sorry that I didn’t think of how he might feel for me to be like that, but that I did always LIKE him, that I always loved him in fact. I ask him what I could have done instead and he said that I could have just been kinder about it, calmer about it, nicer about it. I agree with him. And as we are sitting there and I am patting him, I am overcome with a feeling of peace, as though something big has just happened, shifted, lifted, changed. And before my eyes he turns into gold sparkles which disappear and then he is gone.
And I’m not sad about it even though I would have liked for him to stay. I know that he’s not gone forever.