My true spooky story that led to my brother.

“This place is weird! I feel completely disconnected from my body,” I said to my friend Suzenne who was standing nearby. 

We were hiking the King’s Trail through an ironwood glade. The ground  was spongy and slightly slippery from the pine needles carpeting the  forest floor. Cavernous holes in the ground dotted the woods. Formed by  collapsed lava tubes, these apertures were dark and foreboding.

I’m not superstitious, but that day I felt as if someone else had  control of my body. Being careful to tread solidly, I planted each foot  firmly on the ground. The trail opened up to a bluff overlooking the  splashing Pacific licking the edges of the Big Island. Still feeling  disembodied, I gingerly stepped from jagged lava rock to boulder, to  rising escarpment. This part of the island where we reside is a  beautiful and savagely dramatic landscape. 

We turned back, Suzenne walking along the coastline while I wandered  into the forest to the peculiar, otherworldly place I had passed through  earlier.

As I surveyed the terrain determining where the holes were, I felt a  shove. There was no one behind me. Falling forward, my knee caught on  the glassy edge of a ridge of aʻā lava. My leg twisted  and buckled under me. Shocked that I had lost my balance, I rose and  limped toward the sound of the crashing surf. 

Suzenne was looking for me. “There you are, girl. Why are your pants ripped?”

She helped me hobble back to the road. “Let’s go get you a bandage,” she said. Her partner, Elijah, lives next to the trailhead.

As I entered his home, Elijah slowly looked me up and down and said, “Get on the massage table.” 

I really wanted to get off my feet. As I lay there, he cleaned and bandaged the wound. It was ragged and bleeding.

“This cut is deep. May I run my hands over it to increase the healing?” he asked.

Muscles un-tensed. Bones loosened. The throbbing stopped.

Elijah’s voice drifted into my dreamy state. He said, “I’m getting a  message from a relative of yours. They are a family member—but not  related. He wants you to send him love. He is trying to contact you.”

I was mystified until a bolt of realization struck and chills ran down my spine.

“Jesus, it’s my adopted brother, David. We were both adopted at birth  two years apart. He was a criminal. I have no connection to him and he  died over a decade ago.”

Elijah said, “He is asking for love so he can pass on.”

I felt tremendous repulsion and stuttered, “God, he was a terrible  person. He never hurt me, but he hurt a lot of other people. I don’t  want anything to do with him.”

As I said this out loud, my feelings shifted. I felt receptive and warm. “Elijah, did he shove me to get my attention?”

Hmmmmm was all Elijah murmured.

Stillness pervaded my body. There was a presence standing near my  shoulder at the edge of the table. I turned my internal vision in that  direction and knew it was David, whom I’d spent my entire childhood  avoiding. He had emanated evil. And he had been dead for years—much to  all of our family’s relief.

Yet here I was now, wounded, lying on a massage table, aware that his spirit wanted me to give him love. Love. Love?  Without thinking about the oddness of this situation, and with Elijah’s  support and encouragement, I turned toward the presence and said, “I  love you.” Not “I forgive you.” Just “I love you.” I could feel how much  he needed to be loved. 

And then he vanished. 

Elijah did another scan of my energy body and said, “He’s gone.” 

The wound healed quickly. There is no scar.

Two months later, I received an email. It was from a man who said he  thought we might be related. He had found me through a DNA ancestry  service. I checked him out on Facebook. He looked just like my son and  he had my button nose, thin lips, and Nordic complexion. I called him  and we talked for two hours.

He’s my full-blood brother. Same mother. Same father. My real  brother, also adopted at birth. A fantastic person. We are in each  other’s lives on a regular basis after not meeting until I was 67 years  old. 

Did my experience in the forest and Elijah’s facilitation of the  experience with my adopted brother two months earlier initiate this  connection to my real family? Did freeing David by embracing him with  love free me to meet my true brother in this lifetime? I will never  know, but I sense there is a bridge between these encounters. Elijah was  the medium. And Suzenne led me to his table.   

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