Airport to Other Dimentions by Julianna Rowe

 

AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS …. By Julianna Rowe  

                 I am usually in full control of my whereabouts as well as my surroundings at all times. My mind seemed intact as far as I could tell, yet something was certainly amiss.

I was on a small girl’s Schwinn bicycle in the middle of a dark pasture of thick four-inch weeds and grass.   Being of adult stature it was genuinely hard pumping the pedals of that little green bike yet for some strange reason I continued without questioning.  I kept looking behind for my dog Allie but all I could make out was my cat and an instinctive mentality to continue forward to nowhere.    

It was then out of the dark graphite emptiness I saw the two-aluminum saucer like objects each sheltering one bright light about ten feet apart. They appeared similar to on old farm yard lamp or what baby chicks were kept under for warmth at the fair.  Then without a sound I witnessed from some alien world a plane that resembled a small version of a B-52 Bomber using the same aluminum sheltered lights as they guided it to land on the makeshift runway.  I leaped off what seemed to be my childhood bike and began running alongside it through the dense weeds and grass.  It’s luminous landing was commanding my total attention. And then it vanished from sight. I searched the field and barely found it a longer distance away in a misty area.  It was as though it were still there in another dimension I couldn’t cross into. 

                Right ahead of me was an old familiar farmhouse.  My Father was standing outside the back entry facing the landing field.  He acted as though he had also seen something passing through and now still hovering. Or was it he knew? Then he turned toward me and with soulless eyes motioned for me to come.

The woman of the house was at the kitchen table for only moments until she and the table simply faded away disappearing into the night.   She never returned from the darkness like the old man, the cat, and the middle-aged man did.  I don’t think she wanted to return to fix anything.  The others had a need to return or had they never left?

                I entered the once familiar kitchen.  A middle-aged man stood at the sink starring.  Where the beautiful oak kitchen table with its collection of roosters that caressed its center and the surrounding wall shelves used to be was now brown piles on the floor of leftover negative mental debris. There were no table or chairs.  Lying under where each person sat over the hundred years of its existence was unforgiveness, anger, hate, malice, envy, jealousy and more that made up a toxic soup of different sizes and shapes of unfinished brown and gray dirt and dust. Bad energy.

                The man at the sink was trying to wash away the pain from his past existence there. He was hovering and I felt an emotion for him as I saw disappointment etched on his face and his bosom so full of buried emotions I wondered if he might burst.  He did not see me because he was not yet passed on.  The old man saw me and the cat riddled with fear entered the room saw me.  Poor thing was so full of fear and anxiety it fell on its back pawing at the air as though the air was going to execute her.  She appeared to be a pet of mine from the past.  I wondered why she was there.  What needed to be fixed for that old cat and what could I do? What could I do for any of them?  Why was I there? Why did I have to pump that little old bicycle so vigorously across a field of thick weeds to get to that old farmhouse full of bad memories and energies? Was I to take in or let out? Was it too late?

        And then I saw the two alien runway lights re-appear from the darkness and I heard the engines as the pilotless plane opened its throttles and “She” was gone.  My Mother was gone with unfinished business left in dark piles under the once vibrant center of the house, the kitchen table.  My Dad stood at the back stoop and watched her disappear as his once soulless eyes filled with tears, his shoulders slumped, his life with her now truly empty of all.  They had vowed till death do them part and they had honored that. But nothing more. He had waited for her and he could have gone with her but she rejected him again. This time she rejected his spirit.  I wonder where she is.  She always wanted more than him or farm life. Maybe next week she will return to late, like the others in an attempt to fix the piles of incomplete emotions left in the form of tangible earthly energy. Dirty fragments left for the next generation.

We influence others in this life. Evolve or beware of the AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS. 

Old Farmhouse Photograph by Nicodemo Quaglia

The Conversion Zone by Julianna Rowe

 

“The Conversion Zone”    by Julianna Rowe 

Rimrock Road 8:23 am CST April 23^rd, 1923   

 I stood watching the children play, the boys racing their tall tricycles and the girls dragging cloth dolls on the ground with one hand while blowing harshly on their new bird whistles with the other. I know not how I knew them or why I was there, I just was.   The children began gathering around me staring.  So, I stared back.  Children don’t get embarrassed when people don’t respond to them immediately like adults do.  But I held my ground for as long as adulthood allowed and then I exclaimed.

“What?”

They continued to stare in silence.  I was no longer embarrassed rather I was getting scared when I noticed each child had white hair and steel blue eyes that were piercing through to my soul.  Then over to the left of the small group of the children of the damned stood a man clearly surrounded in a grey mist, with dark hair and dark eyes.  He seemed to be their master. 

Where was I? Who was I? And most of all, who was the group of weird people all pointing in unison to the vast acres of land across the street.

That was when a voice spoke up saying, “That is the half a million-dollar land you lost to your sister.”

I turned so slowly it was like a scene from a slow-motion movie reel. I needed to see the losses they were all pointing out to me but when I turned all I saw were acres of dead earth possessed by more of those same children of the damned and their leader.  I spiritually connected with the money I and my family had lost to those thieves. Yet the land belonged to the dark man and his children all possessed by past and future generations who lurked upon the cold deceased estate.

One of the children caught my attention when I couldn’t help but notice her eyes changed like that of a chameleon in danger.  Her white hair turned yellow blonde and she came alive like the sun and her steely scary eyes went golden brown and shown beauty like the autumn leaves. She looked like a child version of me.  As she left the others and walked toward me, she reached for my hand and I obliged as I took hers into mine.   I knew her but I didn’t know how I knew her.  She led me away from those withering souls through a misty yellow porthole to a quiet neighborhood where the sun was bright and a feeling of freedom lifted me from the dark evil place we had left behind.  At least I hoped we had.  She then safeguarded me to a truck sitting by itself on an empty street and then she disappeared in a blink but where she had stood was left a beautiful glow of soft rainbow colors.  I quickly moved in an attempt to retrieve her as though I had lost part of me and had to get it back.  When I reached for the space where she had disappeared, all the gentle colors of who she was enveloped me, offering a peace like I had never known. Was she me in a past life? Was she an Angel warning me?  Or helping me?  I think she was me in 1923. She had come through the porthole from the fifth dimension to aid me in the loss of my family inheritance and to assist me toward a better future. 

I had been told by a spirit, before this encounter, there are twelve dimensions in all that surround our Universe. Each of the twelve are comprised of different phases of learning. Sort of like a school where you escalate according to how far you evolved during your living years.  One being the most evolved and twelve being pre-kindergarten.  I knew from the spirit man who visited me that when you pass on you carry a light.  Maybe to light your way was a guess on my part.  He told me some have brighter lights than others but they all ascend magnetically to whichever dimension they belong to continue their journey. It’s all about energy and physics. But what did all this have to do with me and the very large truck I was heading toward sitting on the very empty street?

The truck was like an army transport vehicle.  I walked around it peering at the dark green almost black color with its huge back doors latched using a long heavy metal bar.  What was inside the dreary dark machine appeared to be a moving prison. 

I was in a trans of wonder when from behind me came a man who opened the barred rear door and pushed me inside slamming it shut.  I could feel the air sucked out of me as I felt the heavy clank as the bar came down locking me inside with no escape.  Where was she?  Where was my angel, or what I thought might be the other part of me?  I needed help. I could see no escape from this horror. 

First it was the dark pied piper man and his little fleet of children of the damned with their vast fields showing me all my losses, to the little girl from somewhere who led me to the black Auschwitz on wheels!  Now I was afraid.  Fear gripped every cell in my body when abruptly a different compartment door opened and several foreign men appeared in chains.  I did not belong there and I knew it.  Why was I with these people? And then the truck began moving and a window on each side of the vehicle mechanically slid away opening the heavy metal plates to expose heavy glass windows.  I thought at the least now we could see where we were being taken.  No one spoke but me.  No one answered me, they just stared ahead, sometimes out the window, never looking at me. 

Once again, I thought they may be dead.  Why were all those dead people surrounding me? Why all this negative light around me?  I had no choice but to sit and look out the window trying to decipher what would be next. I wanted to scream with terror because I hated being locked up especially in a small area knowing I could never escape the iron walls of what had become my personal prison.  Why?  Suddenly I lost who I was or where I came from. I had lost my identity and become nothing more than those empty men who couldn’t speak for themselves, who were lost, maybe dead? Yet alive.  Like me, yes, they were like me.  I had given up after losing my inheritance and struggling to maintain life surrounded by people with no purpose, no drive, no reason to live. 

Then out the window in the midst of my trance while discovering the why’s of my situation I see the ocean ahead.  It was coming closer and closer as was my terror.  I had always had a fear of going into the water in a locked vehicle and there it was coming to fruition I feared.  The truck sped up and I knew this was the end.  I didn’t have time to think on whether my light would be bright or dim or what dimension I would end up in or how much I would suffer or how fast the water would come in.  Would I float as high as I could get to the ceiling begging for one more breath of air struggling just as I had before this day working, toiling to make ends meet, striving for one more breath to keep living?  Not seeing there was a way out but I didn’t take it.  Afraid to take it. 

And then we were airborne!  We flew off the edge of a cliff and were descending like a rock toward the ocean floor.   I was dizzy from agonizing paralyzing fear.  The men didn’t move because they had given up on life but I hadn’t.  That is when she appeared again pointing to the window.  The little me from 1923 telling me there was a way out and it wasn’t as hard as I had thought. 

I turned, pushed on the window pane as though time had stood still and gravity was not in force.  The window popped out more easily than it should have been possible to do. (That is usually how it is but we can’t always see it.)  Centrifugal force pulled me out in a nano second of time!  I was free flying toward the water…….

I woke up from that dream screaming and crying.  Then laughing out loud at the wonderment of the Universe to give me a dream so vivid it relayed to me what was happening in my own life and how to rectify it.   There is always HOPE and HELP from the Universe to get us through our down times and back to the sunshine and smiles.

Thank you to my own spirit and that of the others who came to my earthly rescue through that amazing dream.  It was given to me in the form of a spiritual movie.  Sort of like there are two different ways to learn mathematics.  Earth and Spirit. I was told I need to balance them more.  Not forget the Spirit because I can’t see my answer in the flesh.   And to always look beyond for your answers.  I got my humor and my direction back!

Chose Your Veil:

 

Choose Your Veil:

There is a beautiful white flowing veil between my head and my heart.

There is a thick blood red curse flowing there also;

The veils fluctuate between my senses and my desires,

The veils sway pretending passion between my legs and my eyes of reality.

The veils smuggle my laughter into tears, between jokes and ridicule.

The veils blindside me between my future and my now.

The veils waver between lonely and unlonely.

The veils vibrate between being abused and protected.

They “lie” between being abandoned and cherished (supported).

The veils ambush me between my logic and reason.

The veils slither like Satan between my life or my death.

Choose your veil. 

CURE for COVID 19 by Julianna Rowe

CURE for COVID 19:

I heard this inside my mind and wished to share:

The rivers run smooth sometimes and the valleys are fresh with knowledge and warmth from the wisdom of the sun. Then there are times when the rivers swell and the banks overflow and the valleys fill with dredge and shadows of darkness. Pain evolves forever from these times, but the Sun always shines again. The wisdom will come through and the knowledge will be everlasting. So which do you take? The darkness or the light? The fear or the warmth of the sun? Shine! Like the glow of a million stars. Rise above the valley of the storms, not caught up in them. 💜

from the mind of: Diane Ogden psuedo: Julianna Rowe

Dear Mother, In case the COVID19......

Dear Mother,                

Thank you for calling me and wishing me well and for the beautiful flowers before my surgery last year.  I hope neither of us will be in the hospital with CORVID19 when you receive this.  I want you to know I remember all the wonderful things you did for me when I was growing up.  The Easter cakes you would make that looked like a Bunny nest. I loved the coconut and jelly been eggs.  All the yeast breads you baked from the Betty Crocker Cook book (I still have.)  The Christmas’s….the popcorn and berries I really didn’t like stringing.  Hated the tinsel by the way. The canned HAM metal opening “key twists” that hung from the tree.  The construction paper rings we glued into long garlands.  The stories you read us at bedtime from the big red book collection. The Pied Piper. The Shoemaker.  The Kings Coat. And many more.   The plaster molds you made and let me paint.  The time you stayed up all night making me a dress for the Homecoming Dance.  The time you fell while you were pregnant and unconscious….I put my cowgirl hat on you trying to help you,  I remember that, I was only 4.  The birthday parties, confirmation, holidays, parties at Nana and Grandad’s.  Trips I hated due to car sickness. Swimming lessons I just couldn’t seem to master. I remember going with you to the Quisling Clinic off Wisconsin Aveue when you were pregnant, I was about 4. 

I couldn’t climb up onto the huge Navy-blue leather chairs I was so small.   Making Valentines for school parties.  Cupcakes.  Going to Woolworth's on the square.  And those awful Toni perms.  The operation on the birthmark on the side of my face at age eleven, worst headache I ever had.  My Dad crying when his mother passed away and there wasn’t enough money for him to fly back to her funeral.  Leaving my dog “Toucher” behind when we moved.  Our neighbors Billy and John.  Moving back to Wisconsin.  Anyway …. There is a lot more I remember and I want to thank you for bringing me into this world.  I have five beautiful children I adore.  They are all good people and I am proud of each of them.  You take care. I’m sorry you are all alone and cant remember any of this anymore.... 

Are We One? .................property of Julianna Rowe

                                    Are We One?
It is dark, as it is light.
Grim shadows, leaping about....
Dandelions smiling in their play,
Like that of a kite in flight.
The dark withered trees before me,
Hollow of wisdom betrayed.
The sun shines as nature matures without us....
On its expedition of life,
And its never ending process no matter a virus.
Rain falls silently as you can still hear the
   Breaking of twigs that surround you on your lonely walk.
As you wain in from the isolated trail,
In sound of mind leading to know where...
The creek flows gently as it still maintains its
   Trinkling sound that can bring you peace from
   It's surrounding hello's.
As you become dismayed, and begin to wonder
   What is really happening....You realize that....
The world as you knew it is ending and  we
    Are no longer one,  together, mixed, for someone
    Else's convenience.  Who?  Who did this?
God?
The Government?
No matter.... it is done

Property of Julianna Rowe

Comes the Dawn by Julianna Rowe

             “Comes the Dawn”

After a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,

And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts,

And presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open.

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today

Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down at midnight. 

After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So, you plant you own garden and decorate.

Your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong.

And you really do have worth –

And with every good-bye you learn. 

        Julianna Rowe
         (copied from unknown girlfriend  in my son’s paperwork) 2001