Sacred Dialogue: interacting with your spiritual side

May 10, 12:23 AMParanormal News ExaminerRoger Marsh

Previous Next

Comment Print Email RSS Subscribe

Subscribe

Get alerts when there is a new article from the Paranormal News Examiner. Read Examiner.com's terms of use.

Email Address   Include other special offers from Examiner.com Terms of Use

1971 Pontiac Grand Prix.

---

Related Articles

• Connecting with the spiritual side
  
• Sacred Dialogue: Tuning into Mother Nature's Universal Broadcast Band
• Death and dying: what science tells us about the afterlife
• 'Psychic Wins Lottery' a headline you'll never see
• American journalists trained to ignore paranormal

The idea of actually interacting with your spiritual side was a subject I thought about at a very early age. While my Catholic school religion class education laid out the basics, none of the church leaders then were talking about physically relating to the spiritual world. The rules all had a human bent - do this - don't do that - be good - go to heaven some day.

All good stuff, but I searched for something more.

I do recall being tricked into believing that the confessional was a direct communication to God. Somehow I got it into my 7-year-old mind that when you went into that tiny little room to confess your sins, God was physcially right there in the booth too - or like a telephone booth to heaven. Those ideas were challenged when I noticed the Monsignor moving in and out of the connecting door. Probably my mistake not understanding a teacher's lecture.

Communication with God would not be that humanistic, and would be relegated to prayer like everyone else.

But what I did not understand at that tender age, with all of the explanations going on - why couldn't a person have a personal releationship with God? I watched with interest the Hollywood film in the 60s about the three children who claimed they were visited by the Virgin Mary at Fatima - only to watch the church reaction - why you? If something that spectacular was going to happen, why wouldn't it happen instead to a bishop or the Pope? Not to little children. These kids were harassed.

Smaller questions

I also pondered smaller questions? Why would a personal relationship with God have to be confined to the person receiving great messages about mankind's future? Couldn't that relationship be much more simple - like asking for help with directions or getting a second opinion on a used car?

We were trained to be humble, and dared not think that our tiny piece of existence would be included in God's day calendar. I did challenge that once in grade school when my younger sister became very ill and was hospitalized. I overheard the adults talking in hushed voice about how grave her situation was. Well, that was it, I thought. If there is a God, he's going to listen to me. I got up an hour early for school every morning and ran to the church next door to my school - sat in the back during the early mass - and prayed constantly for God to make my sister better. My goal was 100 prayers - enough, I reasoned, for God Himself to take a look my direction and maybe help me out.

Well, it worked. I went to early mass every school day and did that until my parents announced that my sister was fine and was coming home. I kept the routine somewhat a secret. I didn't want the Monsignor thinking I had anything over on him, although I did tell my sister when she came home - and she smiled and gave me a hug.

Now had I really connected to the Big Guy? It didn't matter. I hadn't taken any chances and everything worked out.

Fast forward

Many mysterious things would happen in my life that suggested I was indeed experiencing a personal spiritual connection - something I named Sacred Dialogue.

In 1977 at the age of 20 and a senior college student at St. Bonaventure University, I was involved in a car accident, and brought my damaged car back to my home town for repair. The insurance company was picking up the tab for the car and I gave it up to a repair garage. In the meantime, I decided to take out a personal bank loan and pay cash for a new car - and then sell one of the cars after my first car's repairs were completed. I also decided that the new car could not cost more than what I thought I could get for the repaired first car.

I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about what kind of car to purchase - and climbed into bed one night with cars on my mind as I knew I would be out looking the following day.

Dreaming of cars

I woke in the morning with a clear recollection of a dream where a "voice" told me exactly where to go, which automobile to purchase, assuring me the vehicle was in good condition and could be purchased at a fair price.

Now come on? I experienced the dream, but I was smiling. What? Is this real? In the dream, I was given the name of the town where the car was for sale, and an image of the car from a short distance away. I could "see" the car in this dealership lot, parked among many other cars, but specifically on one particular corner. It was red - and it had a pointed nose for a front grille.

I called a friend who had agreed to drive me around car shopping - but had a hard time explaining that my search was over. The car I was going to buy was in Ligonier, a few miles away from my home town. I told him all about the dream and that I did not know the name of the car dealership, but I had an image from the dream of the car and where it was. If we just drive to Ligonier and drive around, I told him, I'll find the car.

He wasn't buying the details of my dream story, but agreed to drive me to Ligonier.

But a few minutes in Ligonier, I shouted for him to pull over. I had arrived at the exact location of the car. There it was, I told him, pointing to a red Pontaic Grand Prix, sitting right on the corner of the lot just where it was in the dream - with a pointed front grille.

Weird gets weirder

And of course, the story got weirder as the situation played out. The following is the story as told in my recent Ebook - Sacred Dialogue: Tuning into Mother Nature's Universal Broadcast Band.

Better Car Choice

Home from college on a weekend break and my car badly damaged from an accident, I set out to buy another car. I had decided to take out a loan to buy the second car while I repaired and sold the first car.

That night, with cars on my mind, I had a dream. In the dream I was shown a car that a voice told me to buy. It was at a car dealership in a bordering town from my home and about a 20-minute drive by car. In the dream, the car was red, had a pointy front grille, and was parked at the corner of the lot. A friend drove me the next morning to the town where I imagined all of this was. I recall telling the friend that I had the dream and that the car would be in this town if he would just drive me there and let me have a look around. While I’m sure my friend laughed at my story, it had an interesting ending.

As we turned the corner towards a car dealership, I saw it. In the front row, at the corner of the lot, was a 1971 Pontaic Grand Prix, red with black interior. Exactly the same scene as I looked out the friend’s car window and across the street at the car.

As if that was not eerie enough that day, a second somewhat strange event took place. I went inside the dealership on my own and asked to drive the Grand Prix. The woman in the office seemed to stop when I entered the room and stared at me in an unusual way. It was as if she looked at me and hesitated and seemed somewhat nervous. But she walked with me out to the
car and watched while I backed it out of its space. She allowed myself and my friend to take it for a short drive.

With 50,000 miles on the odometer and its overall clean condition I decided during that ride that I had to have this car, although I feared the woman’s price would be much too high because the vehicle was so clean. I wanted to purchase something under $3,000 because I knew my own vehicle, even once repaired, would bring me a price in the same area and I did not want to maintain a car loan for more than just a few weeks.

Back at the dealership now I again went alone inside and sat down in an office with the woman, who again made me feel very much like she was “staring through me” somehow. Finally the woman said that she wanted to admit something to me. She said that her own son, about my age, had died the previous year, and that when I walked through the door she thought I was
him. She went on to say that there was a remarkable similarity in our looks and she could not stop staring at me for that reason.

I admit I felt sorry for the woman after hearing that her own son had died, but I was at a loss as to what to say. After several uncomfortable minutes, she looked down at some papers on her desk, and then looked me in the eye. “You can have the car for $2,500,” she said.

I had this sense that somehow she had priced the car taking into consideration the fact that I reminded her of her own son – and maybe she was somehow giving me the family price. I didn’t argue. The price seemed to me below what the car was worth. I felt like I was getting a deal, no matter how in the world I had received it.

Two hours later I returned to the car dealership with a check for the car and pulled away with my prize. I ended up keeping the car for just a couple of months and selling it at a profit.