(Bernini's sculpture of St. Teresa matches the experience my latest character has with her own angel perfectly...)
It appears a bit to the left of my field of vision in my mind's eye. I say "mind's eye" because my eyes are closed when it happens. The blue light starts in the corner of my awareness, moves until it is right in front of me, and remains with me even as I open my eyes and look at the physical world.
The blue light before me is comforting and soothing, and I recognize it immediately as existing outside my body although I observe it using a point of awareness within my head.
I like it - this light. I can never predict exactly when it will come to me, only that I know it will come eventually - that it will begin as a pin prick of light and grow to the size of a small globe before me. The feeling of watching it, being aware of it, is softly pleasant.
And then, without a plan, or calculation on my part, he enters my awareness. I am conflicted about him, and so I hold back from the light. Communing with him seems inappropriate, as though it might threaten my relationship with my husband. I feel close to the being associated with the light, yet we exchange no more than a few bits of idle conversation. It's not like we speak about anything serious.
When the blue light leaves, I feel my shoulders tighten again. I get up and look at the flashing green numbers on the digital clock of our microwave: three o'clock in the morning. Merging with the light is an act of courage; it makes me wobbly in a good way.
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