Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts
Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts are all around me right now, not that they’re not usually, but obviously they have a lot to say and they want me to help them with it.
Friday, I was giving a reading to a friend that you’d probably know if I told you her name. Anyway, her dead husband was walking down a beautiful yellow, for lack of a better name then, road. It didn’t look like any kind of road I’d seen before. It was perfect. The only thing about it was that it was a color of yellow-gold. Furthermore, I knew he was going towards something but didn’t think about telling my friend that.
Later, after giving her news from him, he had sauntered off but returned and told me to tell her about the yellow road again. While arguing with him that this wasn’t the yellow brick road on the Wizard of Oz but just a yellow road, he insisted I tell her, which I did. As I was telling her, he told me that I should know the color since I’d died and come back and he was right.
She told me that I could share this with you and it’s beautiful. I might never have known had I not done what he said and told her about the yellow road. My friend at first said she didn’t know, then she stopped for a moment and mentioned, “Could it be?”
On the day of his death, after a fight with cancer, she told him to run down the yellow gold road to waiting relatives. She told him to run as fast as he could to get away from the pain and go home. He did and he shared it with the two of us last Friday.
Isn’t that beautiful?
Also, he was right about the color. I had seen it before, when I died in 1980. I should have known.