Note: This blog post is based on one of my strongest memories that becomes visual when I need to activate it. I activate this one while laying on the bed. It rolls in my mind like a movie, and I feel like I am experiencing this place in person. The people who lived in that house were very spiritual and gifted, which I believe is why this rather old memory is still very alive. These are my memories of that home 20 years after I left it in Pakistan; I never visited it again because I was busy settling in Canada. This is a reminder for everyone never to destroy anyone’s home—its startling to observe that a lot of my significant future and present memories somehow link back to this place. I can experience memories strongly because I am a lucid dreamer who has higher levels of stereodepth vision.
The woman initiated the dialogue with that house again while laying and knowing that the communication would start just like it had done several years ago when she was a child. The images she received were not part of a dream although they seemed too surreal, real, current, and peaceful. She recalled each corridor, each room, the exact layout of the house, design of the washrooms, the extensive gardens, the kitchen, the playground, the front yard, the back yard, and the garage. She imagined herself laying in the guest room, counting the number of windows, observing the odd minaret-like shapes of the windows, and thinking about how many guests have actually lounged in that room. She could still visualize her withered grandpa standing next to that really old trunk and taking out his memorable items to impress her. The scariest, longest corridor was still uninhabited and decorated by the dim orange lights and a wall-hanging reindeer head whose eyes seemed to follow anyone who trespassed the corridor. The most surprising aspect of this house were the two exits: 1) kitchen’s back door opened up towards a spacious, cemented yard that had large stairs, which led to an unknown place and a wooden door that served as the exit to the garage, and 2) the front door opened to a stately, round porch that was characterized by steps and single columns. There were more exits but these two were more classic in nature. She still remembered sitting on the porch steps with her family members, massaging her uncle’s or mom’s head, and running with her younger cousins towards the playground.
Slowly, her mind settled down as she started feeling at home. The magic of the house engulfed and put her at peace within seconds. She desired further dialogue with this house and its inhabitants because doing so erased any friction she had felt while living overseas. “I am finally at home, and I won’t have to struggle any further to feel a part of something important,” she told herself as she dozed off. Now she was talking to and living with her dead and alive family members again.
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