It was 1:30 a.m. It had been a really long day and finally I had reached that point where I was now making myself comfortable, in my warm and oh, so cosy, bed for the night.
My body was tired, and in total appreciation of the warm sheets I now snuggled under, duvet and all. But my mind was still busy. Racing, considering this, pondering that. For I was playing and toying with the idea of writing my first story. What should it be? Maybe Fiction, as I love all things imaginary and sci-fi or something based on my own story? Ideas raced and whirled in my mind. As quickly as they appeared and were considered, explored and imagined, was as quickly they were rejected tossed aside and forgotten.
What about angels I thought? They do fascinate me? What do you imagine one would look like? Would they look like you or would they be more biblical, having four different faces? Would they look human like me and be normal in height or would they stand tall, around eleven or twelve feet in height? How would their wings be? Would they be as you see depicted in movies or would they be in proportion to the angel’s body size when closed, but once opened magnified into amazing proportions? My thoughts just whirled and collided, on and on.
At some point my thoughts moved from consciousness to unconscious, as I had slipped into sleep.
I have no idea how long it had been, but I knew I was now standing on some high building. I say standing, but the thing was, I sensed I was standing, but at the same time I knew, I did not have legs and feet to physically move and support as I was use to. It was night. There was a wind blowing soothingly, but I wasn’t cold. I could see other tall buildings, some as dark silhouettes, in the distance and around me and bright white lights were speckled here and there. The sky was unusually black, like a sky with the moon fully covered. But the lights amongst the buildings were intensely white and bright enough for you to see one place to the other.
I was flying. Anywhere I chose. It was the strangest thing. I had no flapping wings – that was far too much effort and somewhat inefficient. I just thought it and I did it. I moved in sync with my thoughts. I felt my self in flight rather than saw myself in flight. Whereever I wanted to be, I was. It was the most liquid, fluid and agile movement I had ever felt, and I know I was fast.
But then I sensed something moving towards me. It was moving at a pace, and with such a force, before I knew it, I was caught up in its arms. I was now moving at a speed I could no longer fathom. I was not frightened, because for some reason I knew this was an angel. It was Michael. Do not ask me how I knew this? Just as I thought flight and I did, so it was that I knew this was Michael. As sure as eggs were eggs. No words were shared between us.
Whatever realm of a world this was, it did not function on the five senses I knew. Movement were thoughts and feelings were hyper sensitive, adding to language as if all rolled into one. As thought moved in nano seconds in my head so I traveled with a level of awareness and understanding, no sophisticated instrument could split or interpret.
My back was in the direction we were travelling in and I could sense we were approaching something that was like a barrier ahead of us. We forced upwards gaining height whilst not loosing speed. The climb seemed immense as well as intense. The direction in which we moved cut the atmosphere like a sound wave and as accurately as a laser beam. We then shifted, moving over and across something. It felt like I was climbing a sheer cliff face and then dropping, as if over a rainbow. It was at this point the force became less intense.
I was awake. My heart was racing, my mind felt like I had been inhaling pure oxygen. My thoughts were clear and sharp. The room was dark and pin point quiet. I gathered my thoughts. I knew I was dreaming but at the same time my heart was still racing.
What… was that, I thought? Was I somewhere, I should not have been?