Yesterday I had my massage, once every two weeks.
At first I talked about the horrors of the past two weeks. Why is it family that can be most horrible? Because we are most vulnerable with them, I suppose, and we hope against hope that they will love us when we are authentic. And some families don't.
Then I became quiet. My throat muscles kept trying to spasm, so I was doing the physical therapy breathing to relax the muscles. In and then blow out slowly through pursed lips, to keep the throat relaxed
and I fell out into that other place. I see visions. I was back in my body in a moment.
"Did you feel me drop?"
"Yes." I lose contact with my body, so if I am pushing against his hand as instructed, I stop. I am gone.
"I saw an Egyptian painted wall, with Anubis, with the the black dog head. It was beautiful."
Next drop: "A landscape, trees and hills, like one of my mother's etchings, fading daylight."
Next drop: I forget.
Next drop: This drop was long.
"Was that long?"
"Yes."
"My foot moved."
"Not just your foot. Your left shoulder was trying to do something. Waves across the muscles."
I don't remember what I saw on that drop.
He says that other people drop out too, but that they do not come back and relate visions. Sometimes they snore.
Every vision has been peaceful and beautiful except for the one frightening one: the reliving of my dream about the stars falling and that the stars are angels. And then that I am falling too and crying because I am frightened even though I don't resist.
Maybe I am dropping into heaven. I hope so. It is so beautiful. And Unitarians apparently do not believe in hell.
And then I wonder if other people, people who believe in hell, drop there. It makes me sad, thinking that. I hope not. I hope everyone goes to heaven.