Your True Tales
December 2007 - Page 15
Gold Medallions of Light
by Lux
Early June, 2006. It was late at night, maybe 2 or 3 in the morning, I was in my bed in my rented room in Naples, Italy, in a loft, wide awake. I'd just put down the book I was reading, The DaVinci Code. I turned out the light and saw a vision, an image, on the navy blue doors of my armoire. In the dark, it looked black. The normally noisy street was quiet, so it had to be after 1:30 a.m.
The vision I saw was framed by a rounded arch on top and a flat ledge, like a window on this scene: I saw soft pastel neon-colored tubes that glowed softly, all twisted up spaghetti-like. I did a doubletake to see if that was just a reflection, but it wasn't. I was fascinated and, of course, stared at it to see if it would move, if something would change in the frame. While I was looking at it, wondering what what it was, how it got there, I remarked to myself I had no idea how large those glowing tubes were, because I had no perspective; I couldn't tell how far away they were. I remember thinking, "They could be in deep space."
The image was faint but clear. It didn't move. Nothing moved in the image. I was sitting up in bed, staring at it. Suddenly a spider web design appeared in the lower left corner of the armoire front then it expanded quickly to cover the whole armoire front, and disappeared, stretched out really big I suppose so it didn't leave any trace. Then I thought, "Maybe those tubes carry energy." They were tubes, after all, and stuff flows through tubes. I wondered if I could get something in the frame to move, by sending reiki. I made the symbols for sending energy to a remote place. Then I looked down at my hands and the palm side was glowing bright white. The brightest part of my hands were the tips of my fingers, especially my fingernails. I marveled at the beauty of this light and was grateful to see it. But then something scared me - it was that my fingers had all become a half an inch longer. They were not my hands. I was sort of bug-eyed at this, but still remained strangely calm.
Then I looked up and next thing I knew, in comes this row of shining gold luminescent objects in a straight line. They moved from the direction of the bottom of my bed up to the side of my bed, stopped and hovered above me about two or three feet above my head. They pulled in and parked in the air. There were five to seven of them. I did not count them. I remember purposely deciding not to count them because I felt such scrutiny might scare them away. They shone a bright yellow-gold color. The light seemed bioluminescent. Each one was as bright as a firefly in a pitch-dark room, but the light was yellow-gold and did not flash or flicker at all, just solid steady brightly burning yellow gold. They appeared to have a roughly circular shape, about the size and shape of silver-dollar-sized pancakes, with edges that looked chipped, like on arrowhead flints. They were about an eighth of an inch thick. They looked hand hewn, chipped into shape, rough, not identical.
I sat there and stared at the gold medallions, which floated upright above me, like coins stood on edge, but unmoving. Once they filed into position, they never moved again. I checked the softly glowing pastel-neon tubes on the armoire, and they remained unmoved. It was like a staring contest, I stared, neither the gold "medallions" nor the tubes moved or changed in any way. The brightness of each remained the same. No pulsing, no changing of position, no change in color.
While I was staring, I was busy making mental notes of how I would describe this to anyone. I began to wonder how long this had been going on. I decided it was sometime between 40 minutes and an hour and a half, two hours tops, that I had been staring at these strange phenomena. I was surprised by how calm I was. I was staring at them. Nothing ceased to be the way it had been since the lights entered the room, however long that was. I decided to just turn my back on the lights, lay down on my right side and go to sleep.
As I was doing this, I thought, "How strange of me not to sit up and look at the strange floating lights all night!" After all, how often does this happen? Maybe the lights themselves communicated to me that I should stop looking at them, turn over and go to sleep. As I lay my head on my right arm, one of the hovering gold medallions came down and landed on my right hand in the middle of that web of skin between my thumb and index finger. I looked at it for a split second, thought it was cute and friendly to do that, closed my eyes, and went to sleep right away.
When I got up in the morning, I wrote an account of what I had seen to my sister Dot so that I could have a record of this soon after the event. I asked her to save the letter and give it to me later. This account is based on that letter I wrote the morning after.
The next night in my room in Naples, Italy, nothing happened. But the following night, something did. The twisted pastel neon tubes on my armoire were not present, and neither were the stationary glowing gold medallions that had hovered above my bed, but that night I saw tiny fuzzy-edged gold luminescent roundish balls of light that danced on top of my armoire. About golf ball sized. They bounced around like puppies, very playful and joyous, I thought. I was lying in bed. I felt drawn upwards, like something was trying to lift me up out of my bed. I resisted. Scared. Never wanted to leave my body, which is what I thought might happen, because I was afraid I might not come back to my body and I'm not done having fun on Earth yet!
I have a cousin who had a near-death experience while in surgery - she floated above the operating table and watched the doctors, and she liked it there, but a voice inside her told her to get back in her beat-up body because she had two daughters who needed her. I don't have any kids to draw me back.
The next morning, I had an appointment with a friend of mine who happens to be a transsexual prostitute who was trained in witchcraft - casting spells and such, and she was late, and I was in a bad mood. (I am a reporter and writer who was doing reporting on this subculture in Naples.) When I finally met up with her, I spilled the beans about what had been happening to me. I felt light, light, light and had to hold her hand to stay on the ground, in the daylight in Piazza San Domenico (Saint Dominic Square.) I thought I would float away. I started to cry I felt so strange.
When I talked to Giulia, I saw her through a dark orange haze, a thick cloud of obfuscation. She said it was because orange was her favorite color. I felt disconnected from the Earth. We walked down Naples' busiest street, me holding her hand to stay grounded, literally, and the sound of the heavy traffic quieted, got muffled, like I was in a padded room, but I was right there on the sidewalk next to all the noisy cars. I wish I could have enjoyed it, but I couldn't because it was so new and I was not in control, it seemed.
None of this ever happened to me before or after. Is it Naples?
A few days later I gave a hands on reiki treatment to another girl friend and for the first time I had vivid olfactory illusions - I smelled vanilla while I was treating her, looked around, and there were no scented candles or incense sticks in the room. Then burnt sugar. Then I smelled a very clean aroma, like freshly washed laundry, and later asked her if she had just laundered her dress, but she hadn't. I felt heat on her right side and she later went to the doctor who told her she had a cyst in that spot.
That's it. This happened in June 2006. Has anyone experienced something similar? Does anyone have an idea of what was happening to me? Dancing puppy fairy lights? Orange haze? Feeling lifted skyward? Dampening of sounds? Smelling things that are not there? I'd appreciate any input.
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