I call these stories, the stories from the cosmos because they are from my dreams and past lives. The stories that are not by me are from someone else’s dreams or past lives or emotion. Even your heart has its own world that it has created. There is ghost stories which seem to be happening, not just in one reality but two… These are stories from the Cosmos because the stories are alive in other realities and times and they are just there, no need for conscious creation…

Well, I have mentioned previous times before about being neglected as a child and having my spirit guide voice his thoughts, emotions and knowledge towards me to help me survive my childhood. He was tall and had dark hair. He taught me Wicca and also stories that have never been recorded that must have been from his past lives and mine because he said that we were alive together several times and we are connected to each other eternally. He even told me about the Akashic Hall of Records at a young age and I would often dream of it.

In my dreams, the place was a huge white building built from marble and it had staircases leading up to it everywhere. It was a very crowded place. Inside, you could go over your project plans with your instructor in your next mission before leaving and make other arrangements such as sending supernatural letters to people in their dreams and so much more as long as you had access you could do anything. Outside, I was laying on a marble bench on my back, very relaxed. The sun was hot but not too hot and there were cotton flying around in the slight breeze of the wind and the cotton was coming from the trees and the side of the library that was actually overrun with forestry.

I heard a male voice, “Oh, there you are.” I had been waiting all day 

outside and I opened my eyes, I had been meditating before that so that I didn’t actually have to walk into the library. It was hard to see the details of the face because he was leaning over me and the sun was so bright I couldn’t make out his expression but I knew who it was. He was my guide. We went over some things on some papers that he had. He even had a whole briefcase of papers. I felt a sense of love towards him yet in another dream I feel darkness and disgust as he leads me…

Into the marshes of some unknown place. I am wearing a purplish red 

velvet colored robe over my head in the marshes with two men following me with lanterns. One is him. It feels like we are in Europe, Britain or something but I have no research to support that theory. There is a stone castle in the background and you can hear the dogs barking very loudly, they must be very large dogs.

The men lead me to the marsh, one is him. There is a lot of pain in this moment. They lead me into the water and they drown me and they are gone. 

On the top of the water is a water lily shining brightly because the one whole in the trees encamped all around the marsh lets the moon shine through almost directly straight ahead, must have been midnight than. As I float face up with the lily, I am alive, as I float face down from my death I look up and see the water lily turn over into a new world, me with it and the sun is shining on me and I am in a new world, and that other world filled with those people are gone, they are all gone. I am on a new astral plane.

The poem Drowning, I created from that moment:

Drowning in a Past Life

Barefoot in wet mud like clay

green rolling hills at dusk.

My soul is not going to stay

bound into the valley of Earth .

Magic is sweet and it is bitter.

Falling angels tears lead you on-

stars sparkle and burst into glitter

shape shifter, dreamer, water lily bound

Lanterns gliding across a marsh

will they reach the other side?

Or will I…

This is the spirit guide that I am talking about. I have pulled out 

these visions and meditations as a young girl. As a young girl who had no access to this information except through the time that I have spent with my guide who explains that tragedy makes easy memories as does love that are hard to forget and also that we spend so much time together that his face reminds me of these events…

Visit Deanna’s website:

Most recent posts by Deanna Jaxine Stinson

All posts by Deanna Jaxine Stinson