I dance with dead men. And I sort of fall in love with them. I recently had a visit with a spirit who was pretty well known, and had passed suddenly and tragically. He was in his young 30’s and a pretty awesome soul. You can read that anywhere his bio shows up online, but sometimes you don’t believe it until you have met the person yourself.
I find myself bitter at the tender age of 34. And I do mean, bitter. I somehow lost my youthful luster along the way. Even now as I write this I feel the bile rising up in my throat at the way I feel I’ve been treated and mishandled in this lifetime. All with little to no understanding.
I connected to this man accidentally, the way I do most spirit’s honesty, by scrolling through his writing. I was touched by some of his sentiments on life and his partner before he died, but I quickly reminded myself that a lot of people look better online than they are in person. And that I wonder if he is the reason someone is hurting while he portrays himself as a loving and compassionate adventurer. I dismissed the way the writing made me feel as my nostalgia for the good I once believed existed in people. And I moved on with my evening.
I was in a bit of an awkward setup by the time he stumbled in. Confused, hanging on to the impact of his sudden death. I knew he knew, but I also knew he needed confirmation. He showed me himself sitting up in bed in the middle of the night, as if to indicate that it felt like a dream state to him. On the verge of a nightmare. Time just kept relapsing and nothing added up. He seemed to be calling for his lover, but was confused she couldn’t hear him. And so he suspected he was dead, but wasn’t sure.
I hate having to ruin someone’s day and feel a little sorry for myself as I struggle for guidance on how to bluntly tell them it’s over. I know it seems like I should be a pro, but it’s never easy when the soul leaving actually loved life. And this soul had, to the absolute fullest. You can see that online too.
I am bitter. Let me repeat, I am bitter. In looking this man up online earlier the same day I had left his social media platform feeling like it’s so unfair that some people will never know the pain of poverty, or true struggle and even (this is so harsh) that he and his friends looked like a bunch of pretty white people with privilege. I mean, this isn’t my reality!! I often envy the easier paths others have chosen before birth, and yet I know I chose my own for rather important reasons, right? I felt bad about judging someone who had passed, especially since he looked like a nice enough guy!
And then I danced with his energy. It’s the only way I can say it that makes any damn sense. I intuitively knew who he was and what everyone meant when they spoke of what a kind hearted person he was. I just knew every aspect of him as if I actually spent a great deal of time in his presence. I had never heard his name until he died, but was drawn into reading about his death because it stroked the heart of the weeping willow that resides in me. It was almost like a magnet pulling me in. I had to know more. It almost never makes any sense anymore, but I trust it now. I can hope it all adds up later.
I fell in love with this man. No, not in a creepy way. It’s rare to meet such a pure spirit, who is mostly good and just sort of seems to escape the darker things in life that makes for a bitter heart like my own. I have this weird notion that nobody is actually happy, and that I’m leading the bitter parade for them.
Where do I begin?
Have you ever felt immediately loved, not because of who you are, but because you are in the presence of love it’s self. Or in the energetic bubble of someone who exemplifies love at it’s highest vibration? He just oozed charm from every pore, making him almost a bit of a playboy type. I believe he could make anyone feel good just by looking at them.
He had one gripe and that is that the lover he left behind never made him feel especially unique or special. She had loved him, sure, but she had never reflected back to him the same enthusiasm he had expressed toward and about her. And he had wanted that, though he never made it an issue because his love for her was what mattered in the end.
Reflecting upon my most recent choices in men which have left me hurt beyond repair, I wonder to myself now if there is a man out there just like that for me. If maybe though I’ve never had it, maybe now that I realize it exists, I can at least hope for that. I know it’s totally weird to fall in love with dead men, but my normal will probably always be your strange.
“You must learn to want better things, sweetie”. – One of my guides