Chapter 11: The After

 

 

I still didn't have the confidence within myself to take my feelings seriously, nor was I advanced enough to override the ego influences surrounding me. I also felt sad in my heart because I had gone to where I wanted to be, but chose to leave it all to help others that didn't seem to want my help.

 

I felt that there was nobody around with whom I could safely share what I was shown. I didn't feel safe writing this story afterward due to a fear in my heart that it would somehow be found and that I would be punished or disdained or called crazy for writing it or being told to shut up. I felt that I had these wonderful new clothes but no place or good reason to wear them. I felt lonelier than I felt before, more depressed than ever before, and I could see no avenue to express those feelings.

 

 

 

It was very difficult for me to let go of my ego and the environmental influences around me to embrace something that really couldn't be substantially proven or otherwise be confirmed by another human. I let the negativity consume me once again because I didn't yet grow the skills necessary to avoid becoming influenced by it. It was the same negativity I was trying to get away from, and it was maybe even more of an influence than ever before. You see: I came back here to Earth and immediately felt the negativity around where I was.

 

I did have good intent to do exactly that but chose to not do it for what I felt good reason. I still remembered what happened to me after I returned and one may think that after the experience that I would change my negative ways and focus on the positive.

 

I set out to prove to the wonderful being that helped me as well as the entire group that showed me my life that they were wrong and I didn't need them or want them. I was very bitter about the whole deal. The idea I had of my leaving the Detroit area fell by the wayside. I knew that I would have employment problems and other problems so I set out to find work. I set out to continue my life.

 

The last thing I ever wanted to think of then was my experience but I couldn't stop because I knew now that it had to be real. My friends death and the circumstances surrounding it matched up. I failed him. I didn't remember my experience more when that happened but ended up becoming angry with myself. I knew it was going to happen but lacked the communication skills and confidence to get an important warning message heard. Maybe I was crazy...maybe I still am? The incident affected me greatly, enough to the point I considered myself one really messed up guy. He died that summer in a car crash while driving drunk, as advertised. He didn't listen. He even laughed at me about it, and then promptly told me to shut up about it and stop the crazy talk. A few months later I did try to remind my one friend several times that he needed to be careful with his drinking and driving but he chose to not listen to me.

 

I didn't trust my family to believe me because I still carried every bit of the mistrust of them I had before the experience. I felt all I would do is create more hurt than help if I told them. My friends understood me better than anyone really and if they thought I was crazy, I was very sure my family would have me committed. Because of how my friends reacted to what I had to share, I could not even think about telling my family about this.

 

I decided that if I was to be labeled as crazy, it might be best for me to forget the whole thing ever happened or use what happened to make things easier for me personally, if anything. I worked on convincing myself that my friends were right. I was somewhat successful at it. I just couldn't handle another problem, which is what the experience was beginning to be to me. I thought over what I experienced and listened to what my ego said about it. My serious problems still needed to be addressed. I was still just 19 years old. There was no middle. My vibration was just too low or out of control. I had the same thought patterns, the same sicknesses, and the same problems that got me to where I was. , the human with the life and level of development I had before the experience.I was little Davey Oakford.  You see, I wasn't a light being anymore.

 

My stereotype of the psychic was that they were all broke and would take what they could gain from me for themselves. Id rather work in the factories sweeping the floor. I told the spirit to leave me alone. I didn't want anyone to know about the voice because back then they locked people up for hearing voices. I thought about that and decided I didn't want to know anything or be a psychic. Bob told me a friend of mine would be killed drunk, driving a car. He said I would be able to see the futures of others. He told me to find a psychic so I could learn how to use abilities I have been given. I couldn't see him but I heard his voice. I went home and tried to sleep but couldn't for a long time. When I slept, the spirit I was with came to me in a dream.

 

I felt a sense of danger pending if I stayed around them. I felt the vibrations of my friends thoughts as soon as I got back and felt that those thoughts were by no means positive. I needed to change. I regretted the decision I made to come back. For some reason I thought things would be magically different because I knew more about how the universe worked, but really it was me who was not ready to handle it. I decided that if my friends were not going to believe me and if the rest of my life was probably going to suck, I would just pretend the whole thing never happened. The initial reaction I received when I tried to share and the resulting loss of the feeling of peacefulness when I returned were key points in what I decided to do next. I wondered how I could be of service to anyone if nobody was going to believe me.

 

I immediately felt that I still needed some sort of escape route, especially since I knew I was to have more of a tough life ahead of me. You see: I still had all of the problems here on Gaia that I had before the experience. I made the decision to have a smoke and keep the pot because I figured I needed to use both of them to escape the all-too-familiar feeling of rejection once again. I rolled a joint for myself and had a cigarette as I rolled the joint. I remember seeing my cigarettes on the bar and felt what was left of the bag of pot in my pocket.

 

I could see that the time was not right for what I had to share, at least for them. Not even one of them seemed to want to know anything about what happened. I could not stay and continue to try to convince my friends of something they so obviously didn't want think of considering, much less believing. I readied myself to leave.

 

I told them that if the kind of trip I had was any indication, the drug I took could become very popular. They told me to just shut up about it. They said I just passed out in the chair all night because I overdosed on drugs and didn't go anywhere. The guys were all tired from a long night of partying and I had just woken them up at the butt crack of dawn, babbling about this place I went and what I am here to do.

 

about mastery and my friend Jake said, You are not MY master. They wouldn't listen and wanted no part of what I had to share whatsoever. None of them understood what I was saying. They said I was crazy and to stop my crazy talk. I started to tell them the part about going to a place and waking up in the very distant past or the future. They just laughed at me and told me that I just overdosed on drugs and had a bad trip. After I had settled into my body, I got up and woke my friends to tell them what happened to me.

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