The true story of Julian
Really, I think everyone should have a guardian angel. I have mine. And I’ll never forget the day when he came to say Hi.
We’re going to cross the borders now between reality and something that feels like reality, but many call it fiction. I wouldn’t. Because I knew it was real when it happened to me.
Several years ago, I had a cat. He was an orange tiger and his name was James. One early morning, after my husband had left for work and I turned over in bed to get another couple hours of sleep before I had to get up too, I felt Jamie jump up on my bed and settle next to my legs. Nothing unusual, so I didn’t bother, even when he crawled up along my leg to lie right beside me on the pillow. I fell asleep again, then woke next with the alarm going off. I rolled over, climbed out, dressed, and looked for the cat. He wasn’t in my bed any longer, or in the room for that matter. Okay, he probably already trotted to the kitchen, waiting for his breakfast. I went to the door…and stopped dead. The door was closed.
Of course it would be. Hubs always closed it when he left. But damn, how did the cat get in and out? It was weird, but it didn’t really trouble me. Maybe I dreamed it all. Yeah, it is possible. Except it happened several mornings in a row after that. Always right after my husband left and I was about to fall asleep again. Do you know that kind of half-sleep-half-wake moment when you’re still aware of everything around you, but seem to be held by an invisible force, unable to react? It’s the time where you drift over, but aren’t fully there yet. And when the cat kept coming in the morning even though the door was closed, I started to dread that moment. Because I knew something was off. Very off. Especially, when the cat’s visits started with the sounds of footsteps now. Very human footsteps, when no one was home.
I told my husband about it, but he shrugged it off. “You’ve been dreaming,” was all he’d said. So I told my friend. She was intrigued. “Really? How cool is that?”
Yeah, right. It would have been cool, if it hadn’t happened to me. In fact, it scared me out of my pants. Finally, I called my mom and told her on the phone. She is—like me—a little perceptive of other things.
Know what she said? “Don’t be afraid, honey. Maybe there’s just someone wanting to get your attention.”
Fantastic! My attention? He had all of it now.
My mom also gave me the advice not to dread the moment when he would come back, but just be alert and observant. Seriously? Be observant when I heard footsteps, noticed how the door opened and closed silently, felt the mattress sink under someone’s weight, but couldn’t open my eyes at that moment because sleep was tugging at me? Those few weeks were the scariest in my life. But…they were also the most enthralling. Born with a natural curiosity, I wanted to know what was behind those creepy visits. I started researching the history of the house, but couldn’t find anything that led to a paranormal experience like this. I mean there were no murders, no unresolved deaths, no nothing. I faced a dead end. And a disembodied person that apparently took a shine to me.
But I was never one to give up. With a stubbornness that surprised even me, I trained myself to stay conscious in those unreal moments just a few seconds longer each time. I prepared one question which I repeated over and over in my mind every morning as soon as my husband left the house.
Who are you?
Do you think I ever got the chance to really ask? Well…I did. I was lying with my back to the door – something that was rare for me because I was the most chicken-hearted girl in the world. And seriously, who could blame me with such spooky things happening? However, the footsteps returned, the door opened, and I managed to tilt my head—a little. I forced my eyes open with an incredible amount of willpower. (Really, try it when you’re falling asleep.) I didn’t see much then. Just glimpses of a figure in the breaking morning light.
“Who are you?” I don’t know if I said it out loud or just thought I did so.
Neither do I know if he answered or if I heard his words only in my mind when he said, “Doesn’t matter.”
What I do know is that all my fear disappeared while he walked around the bed to my side. He lowered, and I felt him very near. My eyes wouldn’t open again at that point, but it was no longer necessary. He asked in the softest whisper, “What do you want to do?”
And then the strangest thing happened. I was absolutely aware that I was still lying in my bed, on my back, with the duvet draped over my body. But at the same time, I felt him shove his arms underneath me, lift me off and take to the sky. Two remarkable sensations at the same time.
Weird, you think? Tell me about it.
But even with my head definitely resting on the pillow, I felt the cool wind brushing against my cheek as he flew with me somewhere…high… And this guy had wings. Huge. White. Soft.
There were so many questions in my heart then, but none that I would get out. Except one. “Why are you coming to me?”
I know he’s by my side ever since. I greet him every morning, talk to him when I’m alone and feel his presence. And all this just because of his most simple answer. “Because I like being with you.”
His visits stopped when my husband changed his job and didn’t have to leave the house so early in the morning. I missed my winged friend, but it was okay. I knew he was around, and in some moments, when I was alone, he would make himself noticeable with little things. In another very special experience, he even told me his name, but to tell you that story would crack the frame of this article.
However, if you’re curious now about my friend like I was then, you can find out just a little more about him in Summer of my Secret Angel. He was the true inspiration for Julian, the angel in that book.
And now…sleep tight 😉