Regressionist

My first attempt at a regression story. Here is an innocent fantasy for all the pure regressionists out there. Enjoy

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I wonder how many people really believe in supernatural powers, say for instance angels or spirits? Well I certainly do, and that is what this tale is about. Not about the angels themselves, I never actually saw mine, but in their power to transform our lives. What follows is my story of such a transformation. Let me state at the beginning that I do not completely understand the motivations and intent of this particular angel; as I said, I never saw him or her face to face (for the sake of convention I will refer to the angel as "him" even though there is no clear reason for it being a male). I did, however, get to talk at length with his appointed caretaker...my caretaker I should say. I will let you figure it out yourself.

It all started in May, with a bizarre dream. It had been a relatively busy but uneventful week at work (by the way I am a C programmer). I was having the usual kind of dreams at night, you know, the kind you forget almost immediately once you are fully awake. I believe that night I was dreaming about sailing in the Caribbean, funny thing was I was driving my car through the water. I would have forgotten the whole thing the next morning, no doubt, if my dream had not been interrupted. You know the emergency broadcast system they are always testing on the radio? Well, that is literally what happened in my dream. An earsplitting monotone screech filled my head and I became completely awake in my dream. After probably 60 seconds of the sound, a voice spoke.

"You have been given a mission...."

Then I woke up and there was nothing more. I drove to work thinking about that dream, but as usual, when I got to work I got so busy I forgot all about it.

The next night I had a similar but more ominous dream. After the 60 second monotone screech I heard a new message.

"Your work is done here, soon it will be time to go...."

I was more disturbed by this message. Was I going to die? That day at work I could not focus on anything but that dream. I had heard that some people know they are ill long before the onset of symptoms. Maybe I had cancer. I resolved to go to the doctor the next day and have a complete exam.

I never made it to the doctor. That night I had my final dream.

"Your time is now. Wake up!"

I did wake up at that instant and nearly jumped out of bed. I felt for my heartbeat to make sure I was alive. It was racing and I was sweating profusely. A heat attack, I thought, I'm having a heart attack. But then I was too young to have a heart attack. 30 year olds don't have heart attacks, I told myself.

"Yes, you certainly are to young to be having a heart attack."

I about jumped in the air as I turned to see who had just spoken in my room. There was a woman standing there, and I was NOT in my room!

"Who are you and what's going on!" I yelled, then fell backward onto my bed. It was not my voice either. It sounded like I had sucked helium from a balloon, like an elf or a chipmunk.

"Do not be afraid. You will be taken care of and that is why I'm here...to take care of you."

"But I don't need to be taken care of," I squeaked in my chipmunk voice. That's when I realized I was no longer in my own body either. It had shrunk in about the same proportion as my voice. I was looking at a small child, perhaps a baby, except when it moved...it was ME!!

"Do not be alarmed," she said calmly. "Remember the voice in your dream. I was sent by that voice. I am your caretaker. Everything will make sense in time so try to relax now."

I was so certain at that point that I was dreaming, I did nothing more. I just withdrew and watched events as if from a great distance. The woman picked me up and placed me on a changing table. First I was diapered, then put in a onesie, and finally pants, socks, and a sweater. The whole time I did nothing, I didn't move, I didn't speak, I just watched. In fact, I think the first several days of my new existence was like this. It was a dream and I was an observer outside watching events unfold with only minor interest. What I watched was a cycle of being changed, fed, bathed, dressed, undressed, carried around everywhere, and put in a crib at night. The whole time I just watched and said nothing more.

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