Writing for Fun
March 2015
The Reunion - Jan Osborne
Emily had had a very hard life and was now experiencing an even harder death. Her breath came in hard, bubbling rasps. Pain threatened to overwhelm her. She groaned and tried to move a little on the unyielding A & E table to try to alleviate the agony. This sent the monitoring equipment measuring her vital signs into a frenzy of discordant pings and beeps and coloured lights flashed their warnings.
A team of doctors and nurses swiftly administered more drugs through her drip, increased the level of oxygen to her face mask and tried to surgically stem the outward flow of her life giving blood from the many and various injuries of 76 year old Emily Dwyer. These had been sustained a short while before when she had been crushed by a runaway lorry in the high street.
The ECG machine flat lined and the pulse meter buzzed angrily as readings stopped. The cardiac resuscitation team failed to revive her. All equipment was turned off.
The room went quiet as the time of death was recorded and the team discarded plastic aprons and rubber gloves and began the unenviable task of tidying up and preparing the body for removal to the morgue.
Emily's soul slid reluctantly from her body and retreated to the top right hand corner of the room.
I looked down in some bemusement at my lifeless corpse and the continued activity of the people around it.
Suddenly overwhelming fear and despair engulfed me and I trembled at the enormity of death and cried out in pain. Was it not enough to endure a lifetime of suffering that even the crossing to the other side was to be traumatic and fearful? What was to come; Heaven or Hell or was this a prelude to blackness and the extinction of this soul?
Suddenly calmness and peace washed over me and I felt myself being drawn upwards through a long tunnel towards a bright light. Time ceased to exist. I drifted through the glare into a place of diffused light. Here, other souls, each encased, like me, in shimmering, transparent bubbles of various shades of the rainbow drifted upwards. Could I be seen by others in the same manner: as a pale, ghostly parody of the person of flesh and bone that I had once been? Why was my bubble blue tinged? More and more questions began to fill my consciousness. I thought about my life and how I had dealt with the many trials and tribulations that had beset me. How would I be judged? A firm conviction was growing within me that judged, I would be.
As these and a myriad other things swirled in my consciousness I thought about the people in my life and realised, with a shock, that they were appearing in blue bubbles before me and joining in the upward exodus. Why, there are my children who were most certainly alive when I had passed over and my parents and husband who were most certainly dead when I had passed over. How could that be?
Time for souls did not exist, that was it. Past, present and future were as one. As I gazed at the faces that had meant so much to me in my earthly life I felt the emotional pull of those people in that life fade and saw those faces coalesce into other, more beloved faces; those of my soul mates.
These were the constant souls that I had always and would always reincarnate with until our spirit journey together ended. Every reincarnation gave us opportunities to experience every human condition until we would, over the eons, experience and deal with them all. This was the way, that in time, we would eventually attain full self awareness and reach the ultimate, highest state of consciousness that we could.
Our blue bubbles touched and I felt the full force of our group's joy and exultation of this, our latest reunion. In that instant we shared all thoughts and emotions and bathed in the joy of just being. Time stood still and we did nothing but revel in each other's presence.
Later, still in this amorphous state, I and my soul mates reviewed our latest reincarnation together and then listened to the judgement of our spirit guides and the Council of Elders. This way I discovered the lessons learned by being Emily Dwyer and why she had had to live the hard life that she did in order to progress my and the other souls in the group.
We then planned our next reincarnation in which I volunteered to be born Harry McCarthy, son and heir to a family of vast fortune and vast corruption, in order to learn other lessons and help my soul mates to learn theirs.
Time passed. We took final, reluctant leave of each other, enclosed this time, in deep purple bubbles and drifted downwards.
The eminent obstetrician wrapped the wailing infant in a pure silk shawl and placed it, with all due reverence and ceremony, into the arms of Amelia McCarthy; wife of the President of the United States of America.
