The toothpaste steadily turns into a light froth in my mouth as I brush my teeth. The subtle minty flavor, the bubbles popping in my mouth and the slight flicker of a dim bathroom light occupy my senses as I await the warm, fluffy bed when suddenly an image floods my third eye.
A little girl – Annabel – of 9 years wears shoulder length light brown hair loosely curled (“wavy,” my friend describes it) and a white complexion. She is wearing long, pink pajamas with small flowers. She looks up at me with large eyes, and a little line for her mouth. It’s hard to make out her expression with those large eyes.
“Hot and cold,” DL described in her own words. The word that came to my mind was “erratic”.
Sometimes those large eyes were curious; sometimes upset; sometimes it was a flash of anger that never seemed harmful; sometimes happy and claiming attention.
Annabel ran up to me and started to jump up and down. I didn’t feel threatened by her although I was alarmed. She just seemed like a little girl who was demanding attention. She waved her arms about and started to produce an inaudible wail. I couldn’t hear her yelling, but the sensation at that moment felt very much like I was being yelled at. I scrunched my eyebrows confused.
I said, “I’m not sure what you want little girl, but you can’t bother me right now…” and blocked her as most do when they see unwanted visions. That’s how most of my episodes with her resulted until her frequent appearances convinced me that it wasn’t my ego manifesting her.
One lonely night, I ignored her pleas for attention and decided to spend the rest of my evening propped against the head rest of the bed with my laptop. I fiddled with a portable heater, angling it just right so that it pointed towards my torso. I turned up the heat because I was colder that night. It ran for an hour before I drifted off to sleep.
LD came home in the morning and commented, “You must have been hot last night, you didn’t even turn on the heater!” He crawled into bed and reached over to switch it back on. An internal click triggered inside me. The kind when Archangel Raphael was trying to get me to realize something.
Over time, I learned that somewhere within the early 1900′s, she had died in a house not far off by a sickness. She lived an abused life, and sought comfort and company, so she plays in the connecting houses neighboring hers. She frequented my apartment because of the teddy bear I brought (dubbed “Doyce”) and because of my oblivious attraction to her.
I told Annabel apologetically, “You can’t have this teddy bear because it means a lot to me…”
She stood complacent, as though she was used to disappointment. To comfort her, I drew her a picture: an apple tree, whose branches held a bird’s nest and a squirrel; two people sitting underneath watching a natural landscape; a beaming sun with clouds; and birds flying off into the horizon. I wrote her a letter, “Dear Annabel…”
I read it aloud one night just before LD and I were getting ready to leave for a social outing. I left it on a desk for her, and the next day I reiki’d the house to cleanse it of stagnant energy. I have employed the archangels to wrap this house in a protective bubble.
If she ever around now, she looks to me with respect and quietude, honoring my request.
Thanks to my friend who, with her supreme psychic abilities, confirmed my visions for me. DL has taught me in numerous instances to trust my intuition, and to engage my third eye consciously.
