DANCING IN THE SHADOWS

It was during the third week, as I was doing the BodyTalk, that I picked up sister, guilt and blame as something that needed to be addressed. “Does Des have a sister?” I asked Brigitte. “Yes. In fact two, but one is deceased.” “Oh. Please give me their names.” She gave me the two names. It tested 'yes' for Diane. “Diane is the sister who died.” “She died? How?” “Well, Des was playing in the garden, when his mother came to say that she was going shopping, and Diane wanted to go with her. Some time later she came back, and asked Des where his sister was. He said he didn't know, because she had gone shopping with their mother. His mother said that Diane had decided she wanted to stay at home. They called and called for her, without response, and then started looking for her. Des' mother found her three year old daughter lying in the pool. Drowned. All attempts at resuscitation failed. In her grief, his mother blamed him, saying he should have watched out for her, but he didn't even know Diane had stayed at home. Des was saddled with his mother's guilt, which, out of love and loyalty, he carried for her. He was all of nine years old. Life became intolerable for Des and his mother. In that moment of Diane's body hitting the water, life as they knew it, changed forever. Every time his mother looked at him, it was if she was looking into the mirror of guilt. She could bear it no longer.“I cannot stand to look at you! I am sending you to live with your grandmother!” As I heard the story, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Des, as a little boy of nine was made responsible for his sister. She died. He was blamed for her death, and as a result he was rejected by his mother. Now, in this incident, as the driver of the car, he was the one responsible for other people's lives. There was an accident. Someone died. His best friend. It was all his fault. Who would reject him this time? It was too much. It would be much easier to slip over to the other side, into the mist. There he would be free from guilt, pain and rejection at last. I told Brigitte and Vicky what I felt. I said I needed to cut the cords that were binding Des to Diane and the guilt and blame. As I started to work on the matrix, the neurosurgeon walked into the ICU. I hadn't seen him since that first day I had worked with Des. “Brigitte. Hello.” He ignored me. “This morning we did scans and EEG's, ECG's and an MRI scan, and I am sorry to have to report that Des is flat-lining. There is no brain activity at all. I recommend that you call the family together and discuss switching off the machines. There is no point in keeping him alive any longer.” “But, but....” Brigitte was speechless, her mouth dropped open in shock. Vicky stood with her arms folded defiantly across her chest. I held the energy, thinking, “Then what have these past three weeks been about? Have I been fooling myself that I could access the innate and know what was going on in Des' subconscious? Have I been cruelly keeping everyone's hopes alive by saying things that I couldn't possibly know anything about? Who was I to think that I knew more than the specialists involved in this case?” Brigitte was arguing with the neurosurgeon, who kept on reiterating what he had told her, and he spent forty-five minutes informing her exactly how they had proven that Des was brain-dead and there really was no further point to all of this. “Think about it, and call me in the morning.” I kept on thinking about what the neurosurgeon had told me when my mother was in a coma. Had Des heard all of this? Or was he really flat-lining? What to do next? I had been holding the energy for forty-five minutes, willing Des not to listen to what the doctor was saying. “You are not brain dead, Des. You can't be! You've been communicating with me for three weeks, helping me unravel what is pulling you to the other side. Does this mean you have decided to cross over?” “Brigitte, I have to close the session. I cannot leave it unfinished like this. I am going to sever that invisible cord to Diane, the guilt and the blame.” She nodded numbly, then she and Vicky stood next to the bed in silent support. I moved my arm across Des' body in a slashing motion, and all hell broke loose.