Island Home

In the mid-20th century, as a young girl, I had a series of dreams that were extraordinarily vivid, and which seem to be the prelude to the memory that unfolded before me on a massage table many decades later.  In my dreams, I was playing with my best friend, a boy.  We had grown up together and played outside almost daily in a beautiful green field, on a bluff high above a lively river.  The air was fresh, the sun was just warm enough, wildflowers dotted the grasses, and we made wreaths and crowns of flowers and chased each other and wrestled in the grass.  Over the course of these dreams we grew from small children to near adolescence, trusting our long friendship and happy childhood.  We were simply children playing.  We assumed we’d always be together.

Many years later, I met a man I “knew”.  We fell in love.   He was a bundle of contradictions:  No taller than I, he was a star football player–a place-kicker (with multiple knee surgeries as a result).  Dyslexic, he had a master’s in English Literature.  He whispered Rilke love poems between kisses.  But it was his eyes that really captured me.  I KNEW those eyes.  I knew those eyes in a different body, in a different time. I knew those eyes in my very soul.   They haunted me.   But in this time and world, we lived halfway across the country from each other.  It wasn’t long before the juggling of airport commutes and his child-custody issues made it increasingly impossible for us to see each other.  I was heartbroken, but could see no way to continue this new relationship.

I visited my massage therapist, Elizabeth.  She had a way of accessing emotional issues and releasing them, and I was certainly in need of emotional release now.  As she began working on my body, a powerful story appeared before me.  It was like a complete movie in my head, complete with all the emotions.  The setting was an island-continent, composed of 13 inter-related and cooperative kingdoms.  It seemed very old, compared to modern time.  Old as in many thousands of years ago, not many hundreds.   These kingdoms cooperated on issues that affected all of them, like weather control, and defense.  For decades, invaders had threatened the northeastern kingdom, and all of us cooperated to send warriors to repel the invaders.  It was for the good of all that the invaders be kept off the land.

I lived in the southwest kingdom, just as my 20th century life was in the southwest corner of the United States, near San Diego.  My father was king, and he ruled with the assistance of an advisory council, clearly not appointed by him and apparently elected or appointed by their peers.   My father was widowed, and I was the only child, and I was a girl.   If there had been a son, he would have been the heir, but it was apparently acceptable to have a female ruler.  The difficulty was my love life.  I was in love with my childhood sweetheart, and my father felt like this boy didn’t have the rank necessary to be my royal consort.

The palace complex was extensive, covering an entire hillside overlooking our small kingdom of 300 families.  We had a view of green hills, cascading rivers, and the deep blue sea beyond.  The palace was built of white stone, and pillars inside separated living quarters from the government area.  There were only walls for a few private spaces, and much of the complex was open to the perfect sky, leaving the inner quarters bright with light and full of fresh sea air.  Government advisors and couriers made their way through corridors of the palace complex, going about their business with friendly efficiency.  Wide, sparkling-white terrace-like stairs wound down to gardens near the strong stone-made village homes which faced clean, stone-paved sidewalks that linked neighbor to neighbor.  The kingdom was secure, solid, prosperous, and happy.

On this particular afternoon I was in a sittingroom awaiting my task-list for the day, when a servant handed me a message.  The message was delivered in a crystal vial, which told me it was a “living message”: one in which I would see the sender deliver the message personally.  [In 21st century terms this message appeared as what we’d call a 3-D hologram. ]  When I opened the crystal vial, a life-size etheric dome appeared, looking much like a bell-jar, revealing my sweetheart inside, standing tall, dressed for war.  I had opened it sideways, so I was looking at him from the side, as he spoke to the air in front of him.  “By the time you receive this,” he said, “I will be in the Northeast War.  I was offered a high commission, and this is my big opportunity.”  My mind was saying “No, No!  You didn’t even discuss this with me!” as he continued,  ” This is OUR big opportunity.  When I win honor and glory on the battlefield, there will be no more objection to our marriage….”    But his delivery was interrupted by yet another messenger, entering my room with urgency and thrusting a paper into my hands.   It was from the war front.  I opened and read it as my sweetheart concluded his message with “So stay true to me, my love.  This separation will be hard, but brief, and then we’ll be together forever.”    I read “..a sword blow from behind severed his legs at the knees and he died before the bleeding could be stopped.”   “No!” I screamed.  “NO!”  my mind protested.  Suddenly he was gone and now he was dead and — we never even talked about this and now it was too late.  Wild, howling grief overcame me and my vision went black.

Back on the massage table I breathed, thinking about the man with the familiar eyes and his multiple knee surgeries.  I thought the vision was complete, but I was wrong.  It had only paused.

Suddenly I saw myself again, a mature woman, tall, with golden hair falling gently down my shoulders.    The kingdom was in a crisis of some sort, and my advisors were divided into two camps, each of which thought I was in league with the other to deliberately damage the country.  One advisor at least told me the political reality of the situation, knowing that I was ally to neither faction and that certainly I wouldn’t choose to harm the kingdom.  But even this advisor wouldn’t go out on a limb to defend me to the others.  The lonely burden of leadership was heavy as I paced the palace halls, aware of enemies on all sides.

Then the island council called on me.  In a virtual council meeting, science representatives from each kingdom explained that there would soon be a major earthquake and tidal wave, and while they had the ability to divert them geographically to a small extent, they were unable to move them enough to pass our land entirely.  The best they could do was to push them to the southwest portion of the land, which would wipe out my entire kingdom.  They required my agreement before proceeding.  If I agreed, all my people would be destroyed.  If I refused, tens of thousands more would die.  I had only hours to decide, and it wasn’t possible to warn my people ahead of time (I don’t know the reason for that).

In my 20th-century body I was weeping.  There was no good choice, and I knew my people trusted me.  If I let the entire island be ravaged many of them would be killed anyway, but if I chose to save many thousands of lives I knew there was no chance any of my people would survive.  My country would be gone, my people, my land, my home.   But for the good of the many, I gave permission.   The next day dawned, sunny and beautiful.  A little after noon, a strange sucking sound was heard, confusing and frightening the people.  Then a monstrous wave rose against the sky and panic filled the land.  Some device allowed me to stand above them in the sky, visibly sending my love and blessings to them.  If they were to die, I wouldn’t run hiding, to abandon them in their last moments.  They cried to me to save them and I reached to them helplessly as the wave crashed above the palaces and I could see people and animals and the life of the village tumbling in the water as it retreated back into the sea.

By now I was sobbing, trying to tell Elizabeth what was happening.  I felt like I’d betrayed my people–people who loved and trusted me, and I’d sent them to their deaths.   Elizabeth said “Go out into the water and ask them if they feel betrayed.”  So I did.  I sent my spirit into the water and begged forgiveness and they said “There is nothing to forgive.  We love you and trust your decisions.”


This lifetime appears to be Atlantean, given the very ancient feel of it and the inexplicable high-technology available.

I would love to direct others to the gifted Elizabeth–I would love to find her again myself, but she married and moved away and I lost track of her.