人鬼情未了
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Day Three
Being dead is going to take some getting used to. According to earth time this would be day three of my so called death. I keep looking down on North America, I guess it’s still home to me for the moment anyway. Well, to make a diary note
shorter, once seen is enough, and so it was a good visit, but I must learn how to control it. It is like going to the 1)Rocky Mountains or possibly
I could qualify it to equal the 2)Badlands in
3)South Dakota, going back there back and forth like a yoyo. But again, once seen, that is enough,
unless this kind of thing is your thing, and it is not my thing by far: I mean, I’m only on day three, and this is what you get. I think that area is best for campers, not me. I’d prefer hotels, but I suppose you don’t need them out here. The more I think of it, something is missing. Oh well, I’ll investigate. Now it’s becoming evening time over 4)Minnesota (where my wife lives, Rosa), the sun is going down.
Day Four
Morning time in Minnesota, the sun is coming up, I got an 5)inkling, I got to go back to see how my little wife is doing, Rosa. I know for a few hours after I died, she was upset, crying, hysterical.
I didn’t know what to do for her, she couldn’t see me, and I did not know how to communicate with her other than trying to set a mood, by way of producing calmness about her immediate space: prayer helped.
She got me to the hospital, and I know I was getting better, a heart attack I heard them say. Then she stayed overnight, and I died in the middle of the night, she had fallen to sleep. I was happy about that, happy because she was so tired: everyone thought I was in a coma, but I was really between life and death, a new kind of order they didn’t anticipate, one that is dreamy like, a stage before death, one you can see about you, hear sounds and sense people, but cannot talk, it is not a coma, although folks think it is, or could be, it is in-between where you touch the hand of Christ, but cannot feel it, only see it, and where your
6)pores are filled with the light of God. Then I died, and got sent here, not sure for how long though.
That little 7)Inca wife of mine just cried and cried, and hugged me, I wanted to comfort her, but she’ll have to go through it like me someday,Lord willing I’ll be there to comfort her.
Anyways I am now in my old house, hovering about. She’s got my 8)urn next to my mother’s, she had me 9)cremated today. She’s crying again. I wonder if I can somehow let her know I’m here, and all right. Now, she is sitting in my big sofa chair in the living room, tears are still coming down. Let’s see if I can do something to let her know I’m present. I’ll make noise like walking on the floor, footsteps, not too creepy, just light enough for her to know I am with her. But how do I do that, I don’t weigh anything?
Middle of the Night
Got a new idea, I’ll enter her dreams, slowly, if this is possible, and I heard the nightmare 10)demon can do it all the time, unless you pray for them not to. Therefore, why cannot a good 11)spirit like me do it? That of course a question for me, one I’ll answer by trying to do, what I’m not sure I can do.
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I’m not sure how you do it, but I got a sense of how will come―I’ll sit by her and just
whisper in her ears, and try to create a sense of me, and she will picture me, and I will let her know all is well: “Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, Rosa..., all is well, I love you, always have, it is me, I’m all dressed in white, I’ll be waiting for you and we’ll travel around the world, no, better yet, around the worlds, and into new galaxies.”
She sees me, visualizing me says, in her dream world (I hope she remembers and writes it down): “...yes, yes, I DO see you,” she says.
“I’m fine Rosa, I’m doing OK, I miss you and I’ll be around should you need me, just call on me. Like my mother used to do, remember how she kept us from the fire?”
She’s crying in her sleep, says: “...no, no don’t go.”
“But I can’t stay too long; it takes too much whatever it is, energy and like the bee, remember the bee in the bottle, he lost his energy to fly, then he could hardly walk trying to climb that glass bottle, then I set him free and he nourished himself
in the grass, and he regained his power, and flight, and flew away; perhaps for another day.”
She went back to sleep, she’s stop
crying. She’s breathing better now. I think she’ll
remember this dream as more realistic than
non-fiction, I hope.
第三天
已经死去的这种状态也是需要适应的。按世上的时间算，现在应该是我所谓去世的第三天了。我一直往下盯着北美大陆看，我想，至少目前它还是我的家。好了，让这篇日记简炼些吧。看一看就够了，算是好好看了一回，可我得学会如何控制自己。就好像是去洛基山脉，或者可以说像去到南达科他州的巴德兰兹地区，来来回回就像游游拉线盘。不过呢，还是那句话，看过一回就够了――除非这是你特别喜欢的，但到目前为止对我来说，它还不是。我是说，这才是我的第三天，就已经这样了。我觉得在这个地区最适合露营，但不适合我。我宁愿住旅馆，不过，我想人在这里也不需要旅馆。我越想，就越觉得缺了点儿什么。好吧，我会找找看。明尼苏达州现在已经是晚上的时间了，太阳正在下山，我妻子罗莎就住在
这里。
第四天
明尼苏达州的早上，太阳正在升起。我心中隐约觉得要回去看看我的娇妻罗莎现在怎么样了。我知道在我死后的几个小时里，她很伤心，一直歇斯底里地哭。我当时不知道该怎么办才好，她看不见我，而我除了试图在她的周围营造一个宁静的气氛外（祈祷帮上了忙），我不知道该怎么与她交流。
她把我送到医院，我知道我正在好转，我听他们说我是心脏病发作。她那晚呆在医院里，而我在深夜死了，当时她睡着了。这一点我感到很满意，因为她实在是太累了：所有人都以为我处于昏迷状态，其实我当时正在生与死之间，这是一种他们事先没有估计到的新状态。那是有点像梦境的死前阶段。在这个阶段里，你能看到你自己，听到声音，感觉到周围的人，但不能说话。那不是昏迷――虽然人们通常认为是这样或者觉得可能是这样。这是在你触摸基督的手，却感觉不到它，而只能看见它的那么一个阶段；在这个阶段，你的每个毛孔都映照着上帝的光芒。接着，我死去了，被送到了这里，不过我不确定已经来了多长时间。
我的印加娇妻不停地哭，紧紧地抱着我。我想安慰她，可是，有一天她会像我一样经历这个阶段，到时如果上帝同意的话我会去安慰她。
好了，我现在已经在我旧房子的上空盘旋着了。她今天将我的尸体火化了，把我的骨灰瓮放到了我妈妈的旁边。她又哭了。我在想，能不能用什么方法让她知道我来了，好好的。现在，她坐在起居室我那张大沙发上，泪水又流了下来。来看看我究竟怎么样才能让她知道我在她身边。我会发出一些声音，比如说，在地板上行走，这样就有脚步声，但不是让人毛骨悚然的那种，脚步很轻，但能让她知道我和她在一起。可我一点重量都没有，怎么做到这一点呢？
深夜
我想到了一个新办法，我会慢慢进入她的梦乡，如果可能的话。我听说恶梦魔鬼经常这么做，除非你恳求它们不这么做。既然这样，为什么像我这样善良的灵魂不能这么做呢？当然，这对我来说确实是个问题，我只能用行动来回答这个问题，因为我还不能确定自己做不做得成。
我不知道别人是怎么做的，但我觉得我知道怎么做――我会坐在她身边，在她耳边轻言细语，让她感觉到是我，那她就会想象出我的样子，我会让她知道一切都很好：“罗莎，罗莎，罗莎，罗莎，罗莎……一切都很好，我爱你，一直都爱你。是我啊，我一身白装。我会等你的，我们会一起周游世界，不对，周游各个星球，进入新的星系。”
她看见我了，她在她的梦里看着我（我希望她记得这个梦，能把它写下来）：“……是的，是的，我确实看到你了，”她说。
“我没事，罗莎，我很好。我想你了。如果你需要我在你身边，就叫我吧，我会来的。就像我妈妈过去那样，还记得那个时候她是怎样不让我们靠近火的吗？”
她在梦中哭泣，说道：“……别，别走。”
“可我不能呆太久了，那会用掉太多的那个什么，应该是能量吧。就像蜜蜂那样，还记得瓶子里的蜜蜂吗，他没有了再飞起来的能量，然后，他连在玻璃瓶往上爬的力气都没有了，接着，我把他放了。他在草里吸收营养，重新得到力量，飞起来了，飞走了。可能以后会再来。”
她又睡着了，不再哭泣了。她的呼吸现在顺畅多了。我想她会记住这个梦的，这个梦比非小说类书籍更为真实。我希望是这样。
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