An Angel on My Shoulder

by David Callinan

  “Make a play for her,” a voice seemed to say to him. “She’ll respond. She’ll agree.”

  Paul battled with the images and with the entity that was stirring his libido. He knew with absolute certainty that something was there, at the edge of his awareness, sucking energy from his fantasies. So where was Guardian Angel and the others who were supposed to be looking after him? Paul understood with sudden clarity that if these entities existed they wouldn’t be mollycoddling him throughout his life and doing the same with every other human being. We have free will. They can still take care of you but they can’t control you. Your free will simply determines the rate of spiritual progress you make throughout eons.

  Paul knew that Mike had asked him a question.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I was miles away.”

  “It’s not important. You okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Sure, I’m fine. We’re almost there.”

  “I’ll park near the hotel.”

  Mike parked the Mercedes in the centre of town, close to the hotel where the post-wedding party was being held. Paul wasn’t sure he was in the mood. He was starting to worry about his mental state. Although he appeared to himself to be perfectly normal, it surely couldn’t be normal to be, in effect, hearing voices. He knew he could get medication but he didn’t feel he was turning into a fruitcake. Then, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of that either.

  They walked from the car across a small park. Marcie and Kate looked stunning in their party outfits. The pulsating images of Marcie at full sexual throttle had eased but were still simmering and he had to take a strong grip to maintain equilibrium.

  There was a market along the street of the old town and people were making their way towards it. Up ahead stood the white stucco façade of the hotel, striped with shadows from the acacia trees that bordered the drive.

  Kate waited for him. She took his arm as they went in.

  “Now, don’t drink too much,” she murmured. “You know what you’re like when you have one too many.”

  “You look terrific,” he told her.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “It’s nice of you to notice.”

  Inside, they were swept up by the atmosphere and the crowd. Jack and Brenda were dancing. The bar was heaving. Kate and Paul became separated as they kissed cheeks and shook hands. There was a blues band playing some laid-back riffs in the corner. Paul found himself at the bar where he grabbed a beer and made small talk.

  He knew a few of the faces here. He waved to Jack and Brenda as they boogied themselves to a standstill in the centre of the little dance floor. He noticed Kate talking to a couple of mutual friends.

  A dark haired woman of about thirty-five came to the bar and ordered a tequila sunrise. Paul looked her over. She was attractive with an interesting, rather than beautiful, face. She had a self-contained presence. Paul’s solar plexus was still rumbling and he was aware of various intruders in the back of his mind. They had the effect of appearing like radio static, with occasional bursts of lucidity, as if they were tuning in to a frequency.

  The woman noticed Paul staring at her.

  “Hello,” she said. “I’m Romy.”

  “Paul,” said Paul. “Sorry, it’s rude to stare.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said smiling. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “I’m a friend of Jack and Brenda’s.”

  “I’m a friend of Brenda’s,” Romy explained. “I don’t know Jack that well.”

  Paul asked for another beer. “Do you and Brenda go back a long way?”

  “University,” said Romy. “She was studying osteopathy and I was doing psychotherapy.”

  “A psychotherapist, that’s interesting.”

  “I’ve moved more into complementary therapies now. I do a lot of trauma work, regression, hypnosis, that kind of thing.”

  “You mean with people who hear voices?” asked Paul.

  “Hearing voices is not all that common,” said Romy, “and there is usually some practical reason for it. If not, it might be the result of a chemical imbalance and needs a little blue pill.”

  “Drug therapy. You in favour of that?”

  “As a last resort, maybe. So, Paul, what about you? If we’re doing the usual conversational song and dance, it’s your turn.”

  “Oh, nothing as interesting. I work in computers, networks mainly, as an IT consultant.”

  “Why wouldn’t that be interesting?” Romy was teasing him a little.

  “Rape her,” snarled a voice so loud in Paul’s brain that he almost jumped.

  “You all right?” asked Romy. “It wasn’t that much of a question.”

  “Fine, I’m fine.” Paul gathered his wits. “I suppose it’s dealing with disembodied machines and not with people.”

  The blues band was wailing in the corner, and old Big Bill Broonzy number. As Romy finished sucking the last of her cocktail through a straw, Paul almost recoiled from the next wave.

  “That could be you she’s sucking. She’s a whore. Whores must die.”

  Paul mentally tried to tune out the voice but his solar plexus was almost vibrating. He had a battle on his hands to remain calm and normal. He called for Guardian Angel and begged it to put an end to these spiritual intrusions.

  “Mmm, that was good,” said Romy, glancing at Paul curiously. “Look, if you’re really interested in all this stuff, here’s my card.” She fished in her bag and brought out a card and handed it to him.

  “I’d better circulate,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sure,” said Paul. “I’d better do the rounds too.”

  As Romy melted into the crowd she gave him a quick backward smile.

  Paul was now beginning to feel seriously concerned. He could feel the disembodied intruders milling around somewhere in the back of his mind. He started also to get mad, real mad. He almost shouted out loud but caught himself just in time. He projected a thought with all the power he could muster and commanded the errant spirits to depart.

  He went in search of Kate and found her standing with Brenda. Kate was bathed in sunlight from a tall window. She looked young and vulnerable, almost like an angel.

  “Paul,” Brenda greeted him, kissing him warmly on the cheek. “So glad you could both make it.”

  “Brenda has been worried that we would be upset at not being invited to the wedding,” said Kate.

  “Of course not,” Paul reassured her. “That was for close family only. That’s only right. This is a great party. So, you finally got your man.”

  “Hook, line and sinker,” laughed Brenda. “For better or for worse, as the old vow goes.”

  “It’s usually worse,” Kate remarked.

  “Well thanks,” said Paul. “I was going to ask you dance and impress you with some of my moves, but as you’ve been so unkind.”

  “Sorry, darling,” smiled Kate. “I’m always willing to be impressed by your moves.”

  The band was hotting up with some heavy blues-rock riffs. Brenda smiled cheerio and moved on to the next guest. Paul led Kate to the dance floor and they joined the throng jostling for space. Kate began to enjoy herself and loosen up. Paul was now focused on Kate and on dancing up a storm, so much so that mental intrusions were temporarily blocked off.

  He noticed Marcie writhing to the rhythm with a guy he knew vaguely. For an instant, her body triggered off an earlier memory and fantasy but he quashed it, taking Kate in his arms and swinging her around. She was laughing. It was good to see her laughing. She didn’t seem to do much of it these days.

  They danced three or four more times then Mike cut in although Kate was getting tired by now. Paul was gasping for a beer. On his way through crowd he bumped into Romy.

  “Oh hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he replied.

  They stood awkwardly for a moment. Paul was vain enough to imagine that she was attracted to him.

  “You’re a good dancer,” she told him with a to
uch of, what Paul believed, was genuine admiration.

  “I’m getting too old for it now. But I used to be pretty good,” he said.

  “You’re not old,” she remarked.

  “Thank you,” he said, although he had always believed that age was not an insult he still reacted as though it was. “Do you want to?”

  “No, I’ve got to go. Oh, do come and see me if you’re interested in being hypnotized. It might reveal something interesting.”

  “Sure, I might well do that,” he said.

  Clumsily he tried to kiss her on the cheek. She responded but appeared flustered.

  “Well, goodbye then,” she said.

  Paul watched her leave. He took her card out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment. He felt sure he would see her again. It was truly co-incidental meeting someone like Romy just at the time he could use her skills. Maybe it was time to look for help.

  On the journey home, they were all quiet in the car. Mike, who didn’t drink, was chattering on about something but the two women seemed to be dozing in the back. Paul was lost in his own thoughts. There was an odd feeling at the back of his mind but he daren’t focus on it for fear some other oddball entity would pay him a visit. He was determined to make contact with the, so-called, angels to try to find out more about the reasons for all this and to find out how to stop it, if indeed it could be stopped. He believed he was being manoeuvred, warmed-up and prepared for something but did not know what. And he was angry about it.

  That night, he started to fear sleep for the first time. Kate was out cold in bed. Paul put his head on his pillow with trepidation. With the amount he had had to drink he should have gone to sleep immediately but instead the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, which always presaged the appearance of some spiritual entity or other, returned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Revelation and destiny

  He felt becalmed. He sensed the angel group surrounding him and protecting him from wayward transient spirits. They would help him to sleep, but not before they had had their say. This was the first time he had sensed them as a collective. This was not so much a conversation as a guided visionary tour. Thoughts and images entered his mind. If a question was asked he blinked yes or no. And if he asked a mental question it was answered.

  “Paul, we want to give you some information,” said Development Angel, who was rapidly taking over as the lead voice of the group. “We know you have many questions and we know you have been exposed to some low level spirit forms.”

  “How do I get rid of them?” he asked silently.

  “We are with you for a purpose,” said the angel. “But first, I want you to imagine that you are going on a journey inside yourself.”

  “What do you mean inside myself?”

  “You have a concept of time and space. You know that there is a universe outside of yourself that exists in space and that it appears to be infinite, or curved or part of a bubble formation of universes. I want you to imagine that you are travelling down into your own body. What do you see?”

  “Flesh, skin, hair, pores.”

  “Keep on going.”

  “More of the same, sinews, muscle, fat, what else, oh yes, bones.”

  “Keep on going,” said the angel group.

  “I don’t know, blood, nerve endings, cells.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  Paul could see swirls of molecules and electrons exploding across his field of vision like shooting stars.

  “Well, molecules, atoms, what else?”

  “Let me help you,” said Development Angel. “Just relax.”

  Paul sank back into his pillow. He could still see the bedroom with a trickle of moonlight filtering through and hear both Kate breathing heavily and his wristwatch ticking on the bedside table. For some reason he noticed the time.

  Paul was swept towards his own molecular structure. He perceived how it appeared to be ‘stuck’ together and yet the deeper he penetrated and the closer he came to his constituent molecules the less solid he felt himself to be.

  He beheld an image before him of swirling electrons and other particles. He was aware how difficult it was normally to observe electrons without altering them or their position by the very observation being conducted.

  With his angel guides directing him, there was no such difficulty. He must, therefore, he thought with a semblance of logic, be comprised of finer particles than those he was observing.

  Further and deeper he plunged until he realized he was not actually travelling anywhere. He became aware of gaps appearing in the fabric of this molecular universe. The gaps became wide spaces of nothingness as the quantum universe of muons and gluons became the size of planets.

  Then there was just a void. Paul knew he was still going deeper even though there was no perceptible movement in his mind. Gradually, sparks of light appeared, rainbow-hued bands of vibration. He was conscious that he was emerging into something that he sensed was the other side of the molecular universe. Gradually, a cosmic scene of magnificence began to take shape and with a shock and sudden awareness, he realized that he was back where he had started. He was gazing at the universe as he was used to seeing it, staring up from the Earth, but brighter and more awe inspiring than any Earthbound cosmic panoply he had ever wondered at.

  “One way of imagining how human beings fit into the whole,” said Development Angel quietly, “is to think of your perception and conscious awareness as a black screen or sheet behind which is the truth of all existence shining in perpetual brilliance. Each human being has a pattern of holes punched into this black sheet through which truth shines. Every being carries a different pattern of perception. This applies to individualities and spirit forms as well as to material beings.”

  “Why?” asked Paul. “What is the point of it all in the first place?”

  “It is a process. At one level there is only the constant moment of creation. Impulses and vibrations send waves creating time and space which ultimately creates material life and form, each with definable characteristics but ultimately part of the whole.”

  “I think I understand,” said Paul.

  “Imagine the ocean, deep and dark,” explained Development Angel. “Wind blows and white horses are formed. The analogy is that each white horse is an individual for a brief space of time. In human terms, it has an ego, recognizes itself, does not realize that it is part of the ocean, lives its life then falls back into the ocean only to rise again as another white horse with the same basic constituent parts but another ego.”

  “So you’re saying reincarnation is true,” said Paul.

  “It can be true, but if each human being died with just a small nugget of wisdom gained at the expense of a lifetime of trivial irrelevance that ultimately disappears, the wisdom or insights gained through love are recycled as part of an endless process of evolving towards the heart of creation behind the black screen.”

  “So, what’s the purpose of human beings then?” asked Paul.

  “Energy,” barked Punishment Angel. “As part of the evolutionary process, material human beings generate energy. This cannot be destroyed and is utilized by finer energy generating spiritual entities which, in turn, generate a higher form of energy which, in turn is utilized by a higher form of being which in turn generates greater and more abundant energy and so on. In order for you to develop and fulfil your destiny, punishment is necessary to cauterize darker tendencies and enable you to function at a higher level.”

  “So, we are like battery chickens. We are being farmed for energy,” said Paul.

  “That’s a crude analogy because everything is sacred. You are not being farmed as such. Human beings can learn how to absorb higher energies that emanate from what you would call the universe. This is one of the developments in human life that you will play your part in bringing about. All of us, although perceived as individual, are part of the whole.”

  “What about evil? What about the dark side?” Paul responded.

&n
bsp; “This also generates energy, but it is negative,” explained Development Angel. “At the level of humanity and material life, there is a duality consisting of love and anti love. The constant battle between the two generates energy. Anti love, or evil, which is embraced by many in human and spirit form, has as much right, if you want to use that word, to function at your level, as we have. Excessive dark energy generation moves in an opposite direction to love energy and is important at a base level but cannot penetrate the higher realms. This is where your myths of hell and Hades come from.”

  “The most vital energy comes from sex,” said Guardian Angel. “Spiritual entities of all kinds soak up the high quality energy given off by sexual activity in all its forms. It is a vital source of active power.”

  “So, do you have sex?” thought he might as well ask.

  “Of course,” answered Prosperity Angel, “but it is of a different form and the energy is of a finer quality.”

  Maybe this is why by sexually he had been bedevilled by sexually oriented spirits. He was about to pursue this point but instead asked:

  “Here’s the real question,” Paul thought silently. “What is it you actually want? I don’t want angels and demons taking over my mind. This must all be happening for a purpose.”

  “Of course it is, Paul,” said Development Angel. “Now that you have become a little familiar with this situation, we will show you one more aspect of, what you describe as, angelic existence, and then you will sleep. Soon, we will reveal what you have been chosen to do. Remember, you are a cherub. Human mythology portrays cherubs as babies or flying children. This is just an image that helps you to visualize them. It has no real basis. For a moment you will see and hear choirs of angels occupying a vast realm of timeless existence and all, just like you, are part of the overall process.”