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Star Clusters

Lauren K Williamson Energy Art
Energy Art

During the early 2000s, I had a boyfriend unlike any other. I was nineteen when I first sat down with Tyler, and his opening words struck me: "I see the light in you, but it's almost like your sadness covers it in a weighted blanket." He wasn't merely poetic; he meant it literally. Tyler could see the light of my auric field and the sadness I carried at the time.

We were a normal couple in most ways but there was something unusual about our connection. We shared a profound spiritual connection. We were both clairvoyant, and our togetherness often felt otherworldly. Giant angels would often grace our presence, wings fluttering above, leaving us awash in love and enchantment. Discussions about God illuminated us like Christmas trees, and gazing at each other's halos felt like a sacred blessing.

On the surface Tyler and I were very different from each other. I was a reformed wild child. I was a creative, playful, and energetic woman. On the other hand, Tyler was focused, tight-buttoned, hard-working, and a serious man who was seven years my senior. We often lost ourselves in our illuminated bubble, forgetting the world around us, leaving our friends and family occasionally puzzled.

Less than a year into our deeply loving relationship, our connection took an extraordinary turn. One night in Encino, California, a symphony of crickets sang us to sleep. I dreamt of soaring through space, and beside me flew Tyler, grinning ear to ear. We danced amidst the stars, first traveling through the asteroid belts. It was like a celestial waltz of unimaginable beauty. Morning finally broke, revealing an empty side of the bed. I found Tyler on the porch, contemplating the dream. Astonishingly, he had dreamt the exact same journey. We were incredulous, spending hours detailing our shared experience—the swirling galaxies, the conversations held in slumber.

A few weeks later, it happened again. As we flew through the galaxy, Tyler said something unusual to me. " I can't fly anymore; I'm starting to have a bad dream." I instantly willed myself awake and reached for Tyler. Gasping for air, he woke up abruptly and thanked me for waking him up from his nightmare. We couldn't go back to sleep, so we got up and sat under the stars, indulging in cherry-push pops and pondering our surreal escapades.

We had both heard about Lucid dreaming, which this was, but it was also something else. It was a shared Lucid dream, which begs the question. Were we dreaming, or were we really flying around the cosmos together? As our physical bodies slept, our consciousness roamed united. Was this telepathy, transference, illusion, or astral traveling? We didn't know, and that was ok with us. Whatever it was, it was a great addition to seeing angels together.

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