our village (43)

Y’know when you’re sitting in a crowded theater, and you know people are there behind you even though you don’t see them, right? You can feel them there, clear as day.

Or y’know when you know you’re bein’ watched? You can just feel it, and you look around … and sometimes … you catch ‘em. You catch ‘em looking at you ….

I caught one. I caught one talking to me. Lord. Talking to me, like it was normal, a disembodied voice, but clear as day there’s no other way to see it I heard it without a doubt in my mind, I heard it out loud say, “Walk to the lake and pray.”

Of course I did it.

You don’t understand. You couldn’t … I couldn’t expect you to understand. A disembodied voice spoke to me, out loud. It’s not the kind of thing you negotiate with. It’s a gift. It was a gift. From heaven … from another dimension … I do not care. Hallelujah praise Jesus Amen Hail Mary, Our Father – what do the Hare Krishas’ say, is it, “Hare Krishna?”

I heard a voice, and I listened and I obeyed. “Walk to the lake and pray,” it said, and I did. Like a penitent, like a novice, like a nun, like Jesus, I prayed every way I could think of, I prayed ‘til I sweat and shook. And after I had collapsed and rested awhile, when I opened my eyes, thinking I was alone on the lake at night again, this time, instead of a snarling wolf, the vision I saw at the lake water’s edge was Lilly-Anne.


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