The Shadowlands is an extended piece that Jane Tilton wrote for the Lemurian Forum

I let my imagined self free as Heather suggested, to go wherever it chose, and was so surprised to find myself on "The Oak Lined Street", as a 'spiritual recreational therapist'. ( Talk about melodramatic!) There is a definate tongue in cheek going on here with a slight bent towards humor but I am thourally enjoying the journey. I am debating whether to share it here as it is becoming very long.
I did want to let you know that I have not dropped out of Lemuria but am still on this journey. This subject really has a lot more to it then we realize. When I reflect on this creature of my imagination and its life beyond my realities I feel like it has reached deep into my subconscious and is working out basic desires to understand and help a time in life that I could never accomplish any other way then with magical powers. It is a phaze that none of us can avoid, and perhaps it is my fears of entering this stage that has sent this creator of impossible feats out to solve what I can not.

Because the subject is getting beyond a short article I think I have decided to just enter the first page of the journey and if you are interested in reading where it is going let me know. Here goes:
THE HOUSE ON THE OAK LINED STREET

The street was lined with large oak trees and the homes were large colonial homes left over from another decade. I love the looks and the mystery of older houses, and inside each house, even today, there are people making it a home. I always wished I could peek into each home and see the stories being unfolded, and now I have the chance to enter one of these homes.

Oh, I am sorry, I should introduce myself first. My name is Elesia and I am a Samaritan spirit. I was sent down from above to find some way to bring joy to 8 totally unrelated people living in one of these houses. I guess you might say I am an assigned recreational therapy director that no one can see or hear. I am not quite sure how this will be accomplished but you are welcome to come along with me as we explore the possibilities.

There, this is the house. It is still early morning and the only light in the house seems to be in the kitchen. Making our way through the sparsely furnished living room a large dining room reveal eight chairs around a long table. The dining room of the three bears cross my mind but this one has eight bears. Walking down the adjoining hall we step into the first bedroom on our left. In it Geraldine is just waking up.

Geraldine opened her eyes and tried to clear the fog in her brain left over from a restless night. Every morning greeted her with unfamiliarity. This room, the curtains, the sounds and smells, all left her uncomfortable. This was not her home. Perhaps today someone will come and take her home.

From where she laid she could just see a little of the sky and tree limbs moving in a slight breeze through the crack between the curtains and the wall. At home her studio curtains were never pulled. " Nature makes life worth living".

"Without nature I would not be an artist," she had often told her children when they would complain about their clothes not being washed or having to make their own lunches. "and art work buys those clothes you are wearing young man," she scolded. For some reason those thoughts made a pain run through her heart. Perhaps it could have been different..perhaps I should have…and then the thought disappears and once more Geraldine lay back on her pillow looking up on a completely unfamiliar environment, back in the fog of disorientation.


On the other side of the living room are two bedrooms. In the first bed room Jim lays stiff as a board in his bed, snoring. It is a strange site: Covers rising and falling over a huge belly on a man that is six feet tall in a single bed that is only a little over 6 feet long. His mind has taken him to the open plains where he is riding on horseback, herding a loose steer back to the herd. Sleep is the best time for him in this home on the oak lined street. Sleep helps him escape the reality of the other rooms and the other inhabitants.

Next to Jims room is Jerry, a tall, thin Morman man who is already up and dressed and glancing towards the clock every few minutes. He neatly arranges his dresser for the third time. In his mind he repeats like a mantra, "Neatness is next to Godliness" It seems to be a security for him in a world that is not of his choosing. He picks up his bible and with military erectness and one more glance at the clock, he sits on the edge of his bed and opens it to the book marked page.

The dining room lights are now are on and 7 place settings are neatly arranged around the table. A large bowl of fruit is in the middle of the table and cereal bowls on every plate. A menu on the wall shows that today it will be oatmeal and toast. Jim hates oatmeal.