The Eagle and the Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to the “real world,” only to discover, to my horror, the same group of strangers staring at me—now not with interest or curiosity, but, it seemed to me, as if I were an alien from outer space.
    How long it had lasted I didn't know, and apparently, although I had been completely unaware of it, I had been recounting everything I had seen and heard. With tears still streaming down my face and my blouse soaked, I looked at their faces. Some were registering fright, others pure astonishment, Jean's among them. One or two showed sheer disbelief. I didn't blame them, any of them. I knew I was crazy, and now so did they. But it had all been so real!
    Suddenly one of the group, a man in his early fifties, jumped up and started shouting at me, accusing me of “being in with the Denhams” and stating that the whole thing had been fixed. He shouted that the entire episode had been prearranged.
    What whole thing? What was he talking about? I couldn't understand him at the time because I didn't realize the impact of what had happened or the effect it had had on everyone else. Grabbing his wife, who had been sitting dumbfounded, as by now were the rest of the assembly, he stalked out of the house.
    It had obviously been a startling experience for all of us, and all I could do was apologize. I have never been the sort of person to show my feelings in public, let alone cry, no matter how I felt. But here I had sat, having cried brokenheartedly and without restraint, not even realizing I was doing it. It was a humiliation for me, and I felt very embarrassed. Someone brought me a cup of tea, and I was told that I mustn't worry, that no one thought I was crazy.
    Everyone was so kind to me, treating me like a small lost child, but all I could think about was the “lady in gray.” It had been one of the most moving experiences of my life.
    Jean, the friend who had brought me to this house, normally a forthright and outspoken person, was very subdued, not knowing what to make of things. So when I asked her again, “Please take me home,” it was for her a tremendous relief.
    Paul Denham insisted on walking us out to the car, and as we approached it he took hold of my arm, and looking directly into my eyes, he said: “You are not crazy, and one day soon you will realize that you are one of the sanest people on this earth.”
    Later, many days later, he was to say these words to me: “You are the greatest undeveloped medium my wife and I have ever met.”
    I was also to discover later, when working with Paul and Irene, that the events that had taken place on that summer night had been, in fact, my first experience with other people present, of working as a medium in trance.
    And the “lady in gray?” I was to realize much later, as my gift became more developed, as I learned more, that she was a symbol for all those in the spirit world who desperately cry out for help. For those who look for someone who can help them to gain access to their loved ones, those who are still on “this side” of life, in order to reassure them of their existence in the afterlife.
    With Paul's words ringing in my ears, I climbed quickly into the car. Jean had already started the motor, as much in a hurry now to be off as I, and we made a hasty retreat.
    By this time I was beginning to believe that not only was I crackers, but that everyone else in that house must be, too. My friend could hardly wait to get rid of me, and when we reached my house I had barely gotten out of the car before she zoomed off into the night.
    Going straight to bed, I lay for a long time thinking things through, the memory of the lady in gray coming back to me again and again. Try as I might, I could not understand what had happened or why, and eventually, some hours later in the early morning, I drifted off to sleep.

The Healer Man
    S omewhere a phone was ringing, and in my sleepy haze I wondered why no one was answering it. Then, slowly, consciousness dawned. I realized