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Laurie M Conrad

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· We Meet in Dreams, A New Interpretation of Dreams

· Visits With Angels

· Realms of Light: Clairvoyant Experiences of Life After Death

· The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants

Short Stories
· Still Working on the Musical Score of Glimpses: A Composer's Journal

· Filling in the Sketches for the Flute and Piano Piece : A Composers Journal

· Working on the Dance for “Glimpses”: A Composer’s Journal

· Finding Melodies and Harmonies for 'Glimpses': A Composer's Journal

· Sketching out 'Glimpses' for Flute and Piano: A Composer's Journal

· Starting to Write for Flute and Piano: A Composer's Journal Entry

· Another Story from The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants

· Story From 'The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants'

· After the Musical Score is Finished: A Composer's Journal

· Finishing the Musical Score of 'Unsung Songs: Songs of the Earth'

· The Medjugorje Hymn to Our Lady

· Writing the Musical Score: A Composer's Journal

· Our Lady's Newest Message from Medjugorje: A Mystic's Journal

· Copying Out the Music: A Composer's Journal

· Still Writing the 'Unsung Songs' Cycle: A Composer's Journal

· An Interview on Creativity and Mystical States: A Mystic’s Journal

· The Living Rosary : A Mystic’s Journal Entry: November 28, 2010

· Our First and Last Mistake: A Mystic's Journal

· Letting Go of the Past: An Exercise in True Being: A Mystic’s Journal

· The Madonna's Latest Message from Medjugorje: “Be My River of Love”

· Elegie

· 3 Poems for the Flute Piece Glimpses

· The Dancer

· Spring Song

· The Message

· Poems For the Dying

· Unsung Song: The Visit

· Two Songs: 'Sailboats' & 'A Feather'

· Poem: Words to the Song, 'The Storm'

· Poem: The Golden Arrow

         More poetry...
· See the CD cover for the 'Unsung Songs: Songs of the Earth' Here!

· Listen to my new piece Unsung Songs

· New Amazon Review of We Meet in Dreams

· Epilogue to New Book We Meet in Dreams

· New Book We Meet in Dreams Now Available on Amazon!

· More Reviews of the CDs 'Visions' and 'Images'

· Read the First Newspaper Review of We Meet in Dreams

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Books by Laurie M Conrad
A Visit from Another Realm: A Mystic's Journal Entries: December 5-8, 2006
By Laurie M Conrad
Posted: Saturday, December 23, 2006
Last edited: Sunday, December 24, 2006
This short story was "not rated" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Laurie M Conrad
· Still Working on the Musical Score of Glimpses: A Composer's Journal
· Filling in the Sketches for the Flute and Piano Piece : A Composers Journal
· Working on the Dance for “Glimpses”: A Composer’s Journal
· Finding Melodies and Harmonies for 'Glimpses': A Composer's Journal
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           >> View all 243
Clairvoyant Superimposition: A Mystic's Journal Entries: December 5-8, 2006 by Laurie Conrad.

A Mystic’s Journal Entries: December 5-8, 2006

Tuesday, December 5

Back on antibiotics, my little mercenaries fighting the newest infection. My own small white soldiers need a commander, a leader - they are either fighting the wrong battles, or are not fighting at all ... The allergic reaction is continuing at about the same pace, although my face is more swelled up today. Now I look like a ruddy apple.

Before this newest health episode, I was going to begin the last movement of the piece for choir and orchestra, to the Holy Spirit. But I do not now have the strength to sit on the piano bench long enough to write any notes.

Called the doctors and the reply was pretty much what I had expected: they really do not know what is causing what and I am on the highest dose of prednisone allowed. If my breathing goes into crisis I need to go to the ER. The usual.

Teaching the yellow jackets about prayer and peace ... Will start now. Because I might not be able to continue the shots, and I will be fully unprotected if I get stung again.

Wednesday, December 6
3:30 a.m.

Still recovering. Carolyn and the children came earlier tonight. Carolyn said I looked as though I were going to die at any moment. Dinner helped. We ordered out, a nice picnic in the living room. I seem to be either high on the medications and laughing, feeling like I have a finger in an electric socket and ready for a heart attack - or I crash and can barely sit up or open my eyes.

E. is staying overnight, in the middle room at the top of the stairs. It is the smallest room in the house, and has always been her room here. When she was two or three years old she and Carolyn used to sleep together on the twin fouton; now E. is a sophomore in high school, and Ian is four years old. Tonight Ian was a pirate with an eye patch and a big gold earring - and then an Indian. No headdress and feathers, just his bow and arrows - which he successfully shot at a small cardboard target propped up against one of the old wooden posts in the living room, under the icon of Our Lady of Protection.

As a pirate, he asked that a skull and crossbones be drawn on his cheek with the face paint he found in his toy tin. E. complied. M. and E. leave for N.Y.C. tomorrow at noon and will return Sunday night. A storybook sort of aide named Helen will take care of me for several hours each afternoon and cook dinner. She’s a bit like Mother Hubbard. In her early seventies, she is very wide and short and quiet and kind, and she softly whistles or hums as she putters around in the kitchen. Hopefully there will be no trips to the ER because Helen has trouble getting out the front door, and with walking in general. She could call for an ambulance. She’s a bit short on memory, and somehow her lack of memory adds to her charm, although I cannot say how.

She runs errands, shops - and cooks. Today we did a short errand together, and she almost got us killed in the car at a dangerous intersection. Luckily I told her to stop. JF came by after ten p.m., and we worked on the New York Times Sunday puzzle and filled it in. Dave the physicist arrived after 1:30 a.m. He will stay until Sunday morning.

Thursday, December 7
4:30 p.m.

A light snow. Helen came at one p.m. and is now cooking dinner, humming softly as she works.

My disappointment in the shots and traditional allergy treatment has left me temporarily feeling very alone. Life ahead looks fairly empty at the moment: no gardens, no Windgarth, no walks outside in the open air without the danger of being stung and months of recovery time afterward. It has almost been six months since the yellow jacket sting and I am still struggling to get back on my feet, struggling to breathe, struggling to get rid of the infections. My heart is racing from the prednisone today. Yesterday I could barely move.

The events at the doctor’s last week were a milder repeat of the events of July: first the heart stopping from the venom of the sting, then the heart bursting from the medications, the adrenalin and the prednisone - and then Peace. The heart stopping from the shock of the sting, the shocks of life - then bursting from my own grief and my compassion for all humanity. The Heart opening, opening ...

When JF took me to the doctors this past Tuesday, they said that any of the eleven allergens in the shots could have sent me into shock reaction. Which means I must discontinue the allergy shots.

Afterwards, we stopped at a nearby bakery, for a treat. We met a friend there, someone I do not know very well, but a woman I have always liked. She sat with us, at a small round table. I could barely sit up from the physical weakness, and was lost in my disappointment and desolate thoughts. When I finally looked up, she was looking back at me - and I found such Love and compassion in her eyes. She spoke words of comfort, and as she spoke I slowly began to clairvoyantly see my mother before me - superimposed upon my friend, as Louise had superimposed herself on her sister this past summer, at Windgarth. My friend’s physical features slowly changed into those of my mother, composed of the Light of another realm. And later, when I returned home, I felt my mother’s strong presence of Love in the kitchen waiting for me.

I am not the only one who has seen Jude temporarily transform into Louise. I should ask JF what she experienced at the bakery, around that small, round table as my heart broke and the compassion of my friends made life bearable again - and allowed me to sit for some seconds with my beautiful mother.

My mother’s presence has been very strong since then, even now as I write these words.

Friday, December 8
5 p.m.

Laurel stopped by this morning. We had planned to do an errand together, but I was not strong enough.

She began: "Stop healing people. You need to recharge your batteries." I laughed. In healing others, I myself am healed; the Divine Energy comes through me first. Although, there is truth in her words: I need to look within more, ask for Healing myself, center in my own Heart. Then the Healing for others will happen on its own, radiate naturally from me and through me - without my making any personal effort, using the personal will. This is a stage in my life as a Healer where I should be handing all over to God, put all in His Care - as I had to do following the car accident so many years ago. Both methods bring miracles, but the miracles are greater when I just get out of the way.

This is probably also why God has taken my clairvoyance away in regard to my own Healing. So that I just trust in Him, place my trust in Him. And I have felt at times so lost without my clairvoyance - which has deepened my compassion for humanity. The difficulties being so pervasive and so physical that I have at times been entrapped by them, forgotten I was the soul. That I have had to watch my thoughts very carefully, where my mind is taking me. That I have taken my clairvoyance and Healing abilities for granted. The recent events, going into shock at the doctor’s office, my heart again breaking then bursting - I told Laurel all these events and perceptions would make me a better Healer and person. She looked relieved, and I realized that she had been worried about me.

We spoke of my mother’s death, that now I had to review my life with her, those memories stored in my very body, my physical body. That the memories arising within me were both happy and sad, pleasant or unpleasant - some painful, some comforting. An unsolicited review of our history together here on this earth. The story on earth has now ended, and a new relationship, between realms, has begun. But the earth history must be looked at first, and reviewed. It was a helpful talk and that is why I include it here.

Before she left, I asked Laurel about her new job. She had been working at an artist’s colony, but recently switched to real estate. She laughed and said she was approaching her new career as a spiritual mission. She wanted to unite houses and people; each house had its own personality and history, was individual and unique. I agreed and told her to bless every house and the land it stood on.

For one meditation class some years ago, I had taken the meditators on a field trip around Fall Creek. We had blessed every house and the land itself. Houses store the energies of all that has happened in them, all the words and emotions ever spoken or felt, every event - just as our own physical bodies and the soul in some mystical way store every thought and event of our personal history on earth.

As we spoke, my friend Laurel became more and more transparent, more and more Light. At one point in our discussion I looked at Our Lady’s statue on the mantle on the fireplace - and She was radiant white Light, I could barely see the statue for all the Light.

"Our Lady is pleased with you", I said.

Helen came at one o’clock again today, shopped and cooked - and almost burned the house down. The entire front of the stove was a wall of angry flames .... She managed to eventually put the fire out, but not before I almost became a pillar of fire myself. She had closed the oven door and the flames filled the entire stove. The house was filled with smoke, the alarms were going off and I thought the stove would blow up - so I opened the door and luckily stood back just in time .... or I would have been set alight.

Dave the physicist came home from his lecture at Cornell a bit before six p.m.. All he found was the wonderful dinner wrapped in tin foil, in the oven waiting lovingly and patiently for him. Such is Destiny.





























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