Sky Memories

       Written By:  Sharon Same

        As I begin here, I’d like to note that although I’m listed as this writing’s author, most of its words are those of otherworldly masters, repeated here by me as best I can recall them. And, maybe they form some sort of defense barrier against all the guilt that mortals both justly and unjustly carry due to the carelessness and sinfulness of mankind.

            But I’ve noticed that over the years I’ve been able to construct a personal barrier against what I term “societal guilt.” And that fortress is my belief that no absolute point has ever been determined at which feeling sorry for oneself begins, and looking at situations objectively ends, and vice versa. And I suppose that belief is especially meaningful for me because, simply, it’s not always easy to be the wife of a man who once, in the reality of Earth’s passing time, met and was befriended by Jesus Christ.

            And in many instances Joe and I have been confronted by writers and various news reporting types who’ve wanted to question Joe concerning his encounter with God’s Son. But he never speaks about it. And all I’ve ever known him to say about it, was his description of Christ’s appearance which he offered in the book he wrote about his excursions.

            And I certainly hope I harbor no jealousy toward Joe for his having met Christ. Yet, had I met Him, I know I’d have asked Him how each and every mortal should carry his or her share of the guilt mankind accrued through its first grievous error – committed in Eden. Time passes by, and like all creatures born into Earth’s Earth One reality, Joe and I are getting older. Oh, sure, we’re still fairly young, and maybe we’ll still become parents someday; yet, sometimes the weight of misdeeds committed by both ourselves and others becomes almost unbearable.

            One day, not long ago, as Joe and I were looking out at the train tracks behind our house, a man suddenly appeared out of literally nowhere and began to walk along them! “Where did he come from?” Joe asked.

            “I don’t know” I replied. “I didn’t see him there when I first looked out. It was as if he just appeared there”!

            So Joe and I ran out of the house quickly then. We wanted to catch the stranger before he passed by our property. And as we neared him I could see that he wore some type of metal screen around his face. But Joe apparently recognized him, ran to him, and grasped his hand. “Sharon, I’d like you to meet The Man Behind The Screen” he said.

            “I’m pleased to meet you” I said.

            “And I’m pleased to finally meet Mrs. Same” he said. “You know, I wasn’t deliberately walking here today. I didn’t even know where on the south side of the city the two of you lived. I guess fate must have directed me here.”

            “We’re glad it did” said Joe. “Why don’t you come inside the house for a while?” “Well, you know what, as long as fate, or unknown entities, or whomever has sent me to the two of you, I’ve got an idea that the three of us are supposed to ‘discover’ something here on your lawn today” replied The Screened Man.

            “Okay” said Joe. “We’ll oblige you.”

            And then the Man Behind The Screen said “Today, in a show of support and solemnity, let’s hold hands here, and attempt to summon pieces of otherworldly inevitabilities from our own claimed place in the sun.”

            And thus Joe and I and The Man Behind The Screen did sit at a patio table that day, and from a place shaded from direct rays of mankind’s eternal sun, held hands then, high in the air. And then in a loud voice The Man Behind The Screen cried out in a language I’d never heard or read before upon Planet Earth. And suddenly the afternoon brightness disappeared, and a thick darkness descended upon us. And all was black then for as far as I could see, although it’s possible, or I’m thinking more likely probable, that the artificial night did not extend beyond the boundaries of our property.

            But suddenly then I saw five figures appear in the darkened sky! Two were female, and three were male. The females, and two of the males were dressed in white robes, but the third male stood apart from the other four figures, And he was dressed in what would be considered very common attire for males of this current time. Yet, I noticed that a large X was upon his shirt.

            And as these five figures loomed before and above us, eventually some sort of projector type machine appeared to the near right of the man wearing the X. And this device then began to “shoot” images out upon a darkened sky! And these apparent capturings of bygone moments appeared in a sort of manufactured light then.

            And the first of these was of a seemingly deserted beach. Waves crashed in upon the sand there, yet all seemed somehow empty except for a sign placed in the middle of the picture. It read “Welcome to Windigo Island.” And then X’s voice broke the silence. He said “Look how easily sunshine filters through a slightly cloudy sky above Windigo today. Look how reminders of the past exist there still, and always will.”

            And after Windigo’s portrait had faded from our sight, we next saw Joe and another person displayed upon the sky above us. The unknown person spoke, and asked Joe this:  “In your book you said you actually came face to face with Christ. If you really did, explain his physical appearance to me.”

            And Joe answered:  “I can’t, and I doubt any other mortal could satisfactorily describe His mortal image. But know this:  If one has what one believes to be a clear picture of Him in one’s mind, then one is seeing Him as He appears.”

            And with that said, Joe and his “questioner” disappeared from our sight, and were replaced by a flock of “robotic” appearing birds! And by terming them robotic I’m trying to convey that they looked and moved more as small machines would, rather than actual living creatures. But while they appeared machine-like, indeed they were alive! And their leader spoke to us! And his or her words will now constitute the remainder of this piece.

            “We are the chamber birds of Windigo Island. And today we see five beings displayed with us in the clouds, and three watching still from mankind’s abode below us. Know now that four of these standing with us in the clouds, reside today with The Son Of Man, while X seeks His mercy still. And to you below us, also like X, still in anticipation of eternal rectification, we now offer these following words; spoken by us to hopefully aid all mortals in their quest for earthly order, and heavenly reward.

            Remember that there are many little dictators walking along life’s pathways. And their words and deeds always exemplify their attempts to glamorize their own lives – lives usually lived in efforts to control the lives of others. And look now upon the portrait of the foremost of these. He’s the leader with small moustache. He oversaw the deaths of millions.

            But note how quickly Hitler’s image fades now; and is replaced by the portrait of one who, long ago, in pursuit of a temporal crown, is said to have killed his own two nephews; and then ruled for a mere two years in that great British isle near Europe. And we fought against him at Bosworth Field. And we’ll never forget his cry for a horse just before his death at the hands of his enemies. But why is he portrayed here after Adolf Hitler? Were his crimes worse than those of the Nazis? No, but in some strange sense we prefer to use his vileness to best showcase the inborn jealousy and savagery of mankind.

            But now, as Richard fades from our site, we see a middle aged man of means from Beverly Hills. He’s showing some slides of dying children in Africa. And he’s asking for contributions for them. That must be an honorable endeavor – right? Or does he and others like him portray social rightness to be on the left, while in their world the political right features nihilism?

            Oh, and there’s a newspaper lying on a table. It informs us that this year’s first round draft pick has signed for undisclosed millions. And that knowledge has now uplifted us! And it’s planted optimism for the future in our psyches! But now we’ve just remembered that the very disciple who once chided Martha for wasting money on oil with which to wash the Master’s feet, was also the same disciple who later needed to throw his thirty pieces of silver  on to the high priest’s floor.

            So yes people! Yes! They’ll hammer it home to you eventually! Watch for the new world! In it racism will remain, yet police salaries will be defunded. And there will be people (if indeed they’ll still be able to be termed people) of all imaginable and unimaginable genders and life preferences. And those who remain religious will be termed haters of science and threats to the world’s new order. And a class of downtrodden workers will be forced to feed and care for a newly created class of worldwide border trespassers, vagabonds, and so-called asylum seekers.

            And is it any wonder then that our next representation shows us a perplexed Pilate failing to understand why an angry mob demands the death of an innocent man? And oh if only we also could wash our hands of all the peril others have caused us; and also of all the futile situations they’ve forced us into!

            But now our carnival of slides is ending. And in finality we see an old man drive an automobile by us on a cloud-filled highway. “My name is Jay Blyden” he calls to us. And as  we watch him drive by, we notice that at some distance down the highway he veers sharply to the left, leaves the roadway, and is enveloped by the quagmire in the ditch.