September 11 Part 2

image of the world trade centre memorial

On the day of September 11, slowly the terrible news began to filter through. I had been awoken by a distressed phone call from my husband Tony, telling me that thousands of people had been killed. Gradually, the pieces of the terrorist jigsaw began to slot together. All television stations were televising from the scene and eyewitness accounts of at first one plane and then a second plane colliding nonsensically with the World Trade Centre buildings, began to emerge.

As I sat transfixed by the tv, watching the chaos and calamity, I pondered on the events of the night before. My horrible nightmare had culminated in a vision of three uniformed firefighters screaming in terror and standing right in the centre of my bedroom.

After that restless and desperate night, I awoke feeling washed out and tired, as if I had been hit by a torrent of inexplicably dark emotions. The television news crews began to put last night’s nocturnal events finally into perspective for me. I understood my dream wasn’t a dream, I was seeing physical reality of terror unfolding from a vantage point thousands of kilometres away, while safe in my bed. I could feel the terror, the shock and bewilderment of those around me high up on the upper floors of one of the towers. It had been as if I was suspended mid air looking into the towers, hovering in and out, close enough to see the expressions of horror on the faces of the people caught by this calamity.

As the Australian day slowly proceeded and more shocking news infiltrated our sunny safe haven, my body began to fill with an additional unwanted and dark emotion. The news had been terrible and yet there was something else. Something else began to stir in my consciousness. It took me a little while to name it, to work out what it was, to come to terms with it. It was called “Dread” with a capital “D”. And it was there because I knew something else shocking and terrible was going to happen. What had already transpired was not all; it was not it. As my day in my little rural community wore on, I knew I would have to face the night and with it, I knew there would be more to come.

Eventually night fell and later I went to bed, enveloped in fear for what I might see. In the daytime, there are so many distractions to keep my psychic eye from wandering. I can, if I so choose, busy myself with life and practicalities so much, that I don’t have to see the “other side”. I think most people do this unconsciously, but sometimes in the bad times, when it gets too much, I do it consciously, so I don’t have to look at what is really happening in the world.

Then it happened, as soon as my head hit the pillow, as I knew it would. A vision began to form.

Shock of shocks, it was the Grim Reaper, clothed in grey cloaks. I was scared – fear clawed its way up my spine. The Reaper motioned for me to follow him. I was stuck frozen to my bed, afraid to go, afraid to stay in case he might force me. I’ve met him before when those I have known have died. He can’t be argued with, reasoned with or whatever. He takes his harvest of souls no matter what and every time I have ever seen this, I have been encased in helplessness, not being able to do anything about those dying around me. He is truly omnipotent. And humans have no power against him, once the decision has been made as to who will go and who will stay. This time was decidedly different however, he was asking me, not just taking as he usually does. In fact, he was imploring more than asking.

He wanted me to go with him. He motioned more insistently with his left index finger. I was frightened, but as he had adopted a different attitude than I had previously known, I decided to go voluntarily with him. Instantaneously, we were back at the World Trade Centre. The buildings were still standing however, even though they had fallen down that day. I saw what seemed like thousands of souls wandering aimlessly. All appeared shocked and bewildered. Men and women not knowing what had happened, covered in dust and tears.

“Nooooooo”, I screamed. It was too much. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t handle that amount of grief and terror. The vision disappeared and I was back in my bed. Instantly, the Grim Reaper was back, standing at the foot of my bed. Again the index finger motions me to follow him. “I can’t do it!” I screamed, still he continues to request I follow him. I decide to do a deal. Sounds very strange now as I write this. Doing a deal with Death. I say to him “Yes, I will come with you, on the condition that you only show me a maximum of 5 dead people at one time”. I thought I was very brazen, laying this condition down, but he understood.

Instantly again, I was back at the World Trade Centre. The Grim Reaper had agreed with my condition. Before me were little groups of people, no more than 5, usually only 2 or 3. I had to take them from one place to another and hand them to other people and angels who were standing waiting in a doorway of light. It was my job to reassure and comfort them. There was quite a few of us doing this job, unassuming men and women, some old, some young, housewives and business executives. All taking the hands of the recently departed and leading them towards the light where we handed them over to other beings clad in white light and love.

I saw the soul of an attractive black woman, neatly dressed and who appeared to be in some managerial position. She was supposed to go toward the light, but couldn’t as her three-year old daughter had hold of her skirt hem and wouldn’t let go. I had to take the daughter and pick her up, constantly reassuring her that “mommy is o.k.” and “it’s time to let go now” so mum could go. It took a little while, but the daughter needed love, even if only off a stranger. It seemed critical for her to let go and I was afraid if she didn’t she too would die. She eventually let go and I knew she was a very brave little girl as she watched her mother disappear into the light.

All night, the souls passed into the light. The next night again it happened and the night after that. Finally on the fifth night I slept soundly until 11:00am next morning. I needed it, I felt dead tired, but I was at least alive.

Author: Rose Smith