whom I often caught glimpses of in his black coat and his dark hair. The delightful silver-haired Novon, who often visited me in dreams—a close soul friend. I was the closest to Donald, a very caring and straightforward character, who offered me invaluable insight on situations and decisions in my life. He never gave me any incorrect information or suggestions—and he never, despite my various attempts, gave me a single answer on any school exam or quiz, at first to my casual annoyance but then to my understanding.
Still, I found solace in nature and the remaining part of the forest. It was my retreat, a world of wonder and peace.
If there was ever a turning point in my close relationship with the natural world, it would have to be about a year ago when I was sitting in my favorite hidden glade that had an oak tree in the middle. I was just relaxing, thinking to myself, when I heard a distinctive voice:
“Hello.”
It was not aloud, though as clear as if it had been—spoken into my mind. I greeted the “hello” back with one of my own, and discovered to my delight and amazement it had in fact come from the oak tree! We began to talk. I had so many questions about it, about the nature kingdom, all of which it patiently and caringly answered. I introduced myself as Kate, and it introduced itself as Elyssaye (ehl-eh-sayh).
It was the start of a fantastic friendship. Slowly I began to meet more inhabitants of the nature kingdom, everything from flickering faeries the size of a quarter to guardians of the wood three times my size. I would go into the woods every night and just talk and talk. I began writing in a journal to keep track of all the things I learned and the beings I met. I began bringing up stories I had loved as a child—fairy tales like The Fabulous Falcon Finister and books like The Hobbit.
By candle or by flashlight I would read them, and soon I was drawing an audience. My relationship grew, as did my understanding of their realm. Sometimes they would come to me in my house, in school, anywhere, to talk. I began introducing myself to the trees around my school; I’d hold daily chats with the potted plant in my algebra class since we were both quite bored. Every night I would go up into the woods, even when winter was at its worst.
Over time I befriended an elf named Chalei. When I first caught a glimpse of him, he was standing at the top of the glade, glaring at me. I gave a cheerful “hello” and got silence in response. Troubled by this, I talked to one of the guardians who was there at the moment, a wise one, whom I called Q for short since its name was very long and very beautiful but quite hard for me to remember and pronounce correctly.
It told me that the elf, Chalei, was less than fond of me since I was a human and humans had done such horrible things to the nature kingdom that he couldn’t forgive them. He hated them for their destructive ways. That’s why he wouldn’t talk to me. I said that in fairness I didn’t blame him for not liking humans, though I resolved to make friends with him somehow.
It took a long time. He was as stubborn as I was, but slowly he realized that I was trying to protect the forest and that I loved it, just like he did. I would catch glimpses of him hiding behind a tree, listening to the story I was reading or watching me when I sat in the glade and talked. Finally he began talking to me as well, and the door was thrown fully open.
A best friend now, he was my guide to the nature kingdom who was always there when I needed help. He’d even caught me when I almost fell out of a tree once. I actually felt his hands close around my arm and pull me back up to safety. He would take my arm and help me balance across icy rocks or rushing streams. But most of all we talked and learned together. I would tell him about the human world, and he would tell me about the natural one.
We swore a pact together along with two other elves, one a healer and the other also a close friend, that we would do everything we could to raise awareness and help humankind and the nature kingdom to come to terms and help one another before it was too late. I would be their ambassador to humans to the best of my ability, and they would be there with me, helping me through it all. All my guides would help, from Swift to Donald. I was instructed to write a book, detailing my experiences and encounters. This has been my mission so far, and it has only just begun, to be taken a day at a time.
David
Susan lay in bed and felt a tiny electric flicker in her womb. It was palpable: Sparkle. Sparkle.
“Oh,” she breathed. “I’m pregnant.”
A year before, she had had a dream of the son she would have. There had also been strong clairaudient words indicating the same thing. Now she understood the events from several months previous.
Susan lived in the suburb of a large city and drove an ancient VW beetle with a bike rack on the back. Periodically she had to remove the rack in order to add oil to the car. On that particular day she had been having an especially hard time removing the rack so that she could lift the rear hood and locate the oil cap. She looked around to see if anyone from the apartment complex across the street could help. Two young men playing basketball on a nearby court caught her eye. Walking over to them, Susan asked for help.
One man stopped playing ball and walked back to the car with her. As he quickly removed the bike rack, Susan heard a strong inner voice say, “You are going to have his baby.”
That was how she knew.
Now she was ecstatic, although others did not share her joy. That was because she was unmarried and the baby’s father was showing no interest at all. It didn’t matter to her. She knew she was intended to have this child.
She prepared. She meditated. She practiced yoga. She made sure that she helped others with a glad heart and that she kept busy. She talked incessantly to the baby, telling him all about the world of nature into which he would come. She read voraciously on spiritual topics and spoke only of spiritual topics. She firmly believed the Edgar Cayce readings that stated that the activities of the parents during pregnancy would determine the kind of child they attracted.
She came to know the baby’s schedule—when he was active and when he rested. She tried to match her schedule to his, to be ready.
Once, when she was about six or seven months along, the baby asked if he could leave for a while. Susan agreed and later found out that the baby’s father had been in an accident at that time, hurting his hand. She knew then that there was indeed a bond between the two; however, that bond has not yet been realized in her son’s incarnate life.
David, born two weeks early, was very confused by the white walls of the hospital. He looked into his mother’s eyes and wanted to know where all those leaves and animals were that she had pictured for him. She laughed out loud and explained that the two of them had to stay in this place for a few days and then he could see everything. He trusted her.
While David was still very young, mother and son began communicating about the pictures they saw when asleep. David had terrible nightmares, leaving him so stiff with fright that his mother could hold his heels and head without his body bending. His first word was at six months: light. This word was followed soon by another: man. He was also terrified of fire and hot things. By the time he was a year old, David was talking about the man with a light coming after him while he was hiding. This went on until he was four years old.
One day when David was four, he sat next to his mother as they watched a Disney movie, Bedknobs and Broomsticks. At the end of it, Nazi soldiers landed on an island. Although no one in the story was hurt or even captured, Susan watched her son curl into a fetal position in his chair. She reached over to him and asked if these were the men in his dream.
“Yes,” said David.
Susan responded, “See, they’re not real. They’re just in a movie.”
David never had the dream again.
The two of them spent long periods watching butterflies drinking from flowers or birds eating the food bits that David and Susan had set out for them. David seemed to have a special way of communicating with all these small creatures.
Many years later, David told his mother that whenever he had been sick or hurt, he paid attention to