I SOUL TRAVELED WITH MY HUSBAND BEFORE I MET HIM

There are moments in our lives that are like signs.  We keep coming back to those moments and checking their meaning, trying to understand their significance, and seeing whether they help us connect to what we think is important--as if life is a puzzle and these events are possibly those important missing pieces that bring sense to it all. 

When I was eighteen, my friend Mila and I met Craig at college.  And he shared with us his interest in soul travel and Eckankar and transcendental meditation.  One Friday night the three of us met at Mila's before going to a lecture on transcendental meditation.  Later that evening, after the lecture in a nearby coffee shop, Mila went to visit someone at another table, while Craig and I sat across from each other with a cup of tea.  We were discussing the concepts we had heard about and how they related to other events, like the possibility of soul travel.  Craig asked me if I had ever traveled out of my body.  I told him I had experienced that more than once and in different degrees, but it was not something that I controlled.  It just usually happened.  He wanted to hear more.  I told him that I had a few experiences which involved a feeling of being totally outside myself and seeing my self and others, and how I knew I was walking away from my self and having an adventure, and then returning to my body and reconnecting.  These happened usually while I was sleeping. 

I tried to explain something I had often gone through that I believed most people experienced.  I told him that it was like, when you're looking directly at someone, and you began to feel like the space that's between your faces is shortening, and you're spirits are moving out in front of your faces and, as the distance begans to close, you feel like you've become one--like your spirits are united. 

Craig surprised me by saying he wasn't sure what I meant, and suggested we try it.  So we gazed at each other.  In the first moments I felt awkward and rigid, deciding it probably wouldn't happen.  When the familiar feeling did come, and the distance was quickly shortened between us, I felt the wonderful unity and had the bonus of experiencing great love as our eyes locked.  He looked back at me, then one of his eyes gave a wink of approval.  He smiled.  My breathing slowed, my heartbeat tried to adjust to his.  He was wearing a homemade, knitted, blue sweater that made me feel cozy.  The event was timeless.  The next thing I knew, we were back to drinking our tea. 

I was so excited, saying that was the best connection I'd ever had, and asked how he felt.  He said he hadn't really noticed any change.  I was blown away and disappointed, wondering how I could have been alone in that wonderful experience of unity.  Mila came back to our table.  It had been only a few minutes, but had become a permanent sign that left me wondering.

The following Monday, Craig came up to me at college, asking if I could check at Mila's to see if he had left his jacket.  He asked if I knew what it looked like.  I blushed, remembering the love I felt when seeing him in that sweater.  I said, "Yeah, I know what it looks like." 

Monday evening I went by Mila's to check.  Her mother answered the door and I asked if Craig's sweater had been left there.  I described it as a blue, knitted sweater.  She said, "No, there was a jacket left, but no sweater like that."  We were both puzzled.  She showed me the jacket, a red-and-black, hunter's jacket.  I looked at it disdainfully, thinking how opposite it was from anything Craig would wear.  "No," I said, "I guess he didn't leave it here."

I told Craig the next morning that his sweater wasn't there, only someone's hunting jacket.  He said, "Well, that's it."  I argued, saying it wasn't the blue sweater, but a red and black, hunter's jacket.  He insisted that was it.  Now I was confused, but agreed to bring the jacket to him the next day.  I never understood that.  How could I be so mistaken?

Two months later, I told Craig that I was moving to Washington State.  He told me that it was a very mystical place and that there was magic in the mountains, and that I would find it to be good.  After I had been settled in Washington, I had to find a home for my large dog, Rochante.  I placed an ad the the newspaper, very sad to part with him, but the neighbors were insisting.  I was living with my boyfriend, Jerry, and I always hoped that one day we would marry.  Jerry and I had raised Rochante. 

One day we were expecting someone who had answered the ad.  There was a knock on the door, and Rochante began to bark ferociously.  Jerry opened the door and Rochante lunged.  I leaned forward to grab his collar, and saw the man at the door, who, when he saw the attacking dog, smiled broadly and said, "He's perfect."  I was instantly struck, tingling from head to toe. (I had experienced this feeling before.  It happened the day I saw Jerry and knew that we were to be involved.  But this time it was much more intense.)  I was aware of a knowledge that I was being introduced to this person to love, and I wanted to marry Jerry and not get personally involved with this guy, so tried to keep my attention on Rochante. 

Jerry and I took Dale to the park, so he and Rochante could get to know one another.  We played Frisbee, a game Rochante was adept at.  Afterwards Dale took Rochante home.  When they left, Jerry turned to me and said, "You should marry him."  I quickly and defensively reacted, saying, "No, I only want to marry you."  Jerry had often encouraged me to go out with other guys.  We had a kind of open relationship, and he often took advantage of that himself. 

I missed my dog.  And it turned out that Dale lived in an apartment just a few blocks down the street.  So I went to visit Rochante, and got to know Dale.  He was so interesting, creative, confident, and had dreams about doing, and had done, so many things I had secretly dreamed of doing myself.  I was impressed.  And I knew that God was behind this. 

On one of my visits, Dale wasn't home, and when I climbed the stairs to his apartment I saw on his door a beautifully scripted sign he had made that said, "Dale Lund abides within."  I was strongly affected by this demonstration of his confidence and self-esteem, and was inspired.  Since he wasn't there, I turned to go back down the stairs when I saw him coming.  I was embarrassed for him to find that I was coming uninvited.  I suddenly felt insecure and didn't like to admit that to myself or him.  When he saw me, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs while I was on the landing above.  He looked a little surprised and shy, which helped me get my nerve back up.  We started right in talking, and he told me several stories, including one that he wished to someday write about a race of dwarves in the Olympic Mountains.  He also told me how it was so wild in those mountains that people could go there to live and never be discovered.  That made me happy to think about that kind of freedom, having come from southern California where it was hard ever to be alone or find any natural wilderness.  I noticed also his supple and muscular arms, and was embarrassed that I was taking notice of his physical features while I was telling myself I was just coming to visit my dog.

We later went inside and he showed me his phonograph, which was a unique, yellow, square box on a stand.  He placed a headset over my ears and had me lie down on the floor and listen while he played the full twenty minutes of Pink Floyd's "Echoes."  It was a trippy and relaxing sonic journey.  Then while I sat on the couch, petting Rochante, Dale went into the other room and came bursting back and began beating me with a big foam sword!  I was shocked and angry! ...and then delighted, because he had thrown into my lap like weapons, and I realized he was challenging me to play.  So we had a great sword fight! 

That evening, back at home, I was getting ready for work in the bathroom, and Jerry called from the other room, asking where I had been.  I said, "I went to visit Rochante at Dale's place."  At that moment I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and saw a dimpled smile, and I realized my secret.  I was in love. 

Dale and I knew each other for two months, and our engagement was ten days.  We were married in the backyard of his parents' Camano Island home, by his dad, who was a minister.  To celebrate, we had a big family picnic and later walked down to the beach. 

On our wedding night we went home to our little cabin in the woods that Dale had built near Lake Stevens.  As we were getting ready for bed, since we had no bathroom, it was necessary to take a kerosene lantern and shovel outside.  Dale put on his sweater and followed me into the dark forest.  When I turned, the lantern cast its light on him.  Everything became apparent, and I remembered.  I exclaimed, "Where did you get that sweater?!" 

"My mom made it," he said.

He was wearing a homemade, knitted, blue sweater!  "It was you!" I gasped.  And he looked into my eyes, smiled, and gave a wink of approval.