Imagine, another Number 9 Dream

"Thank you so much. Yes, yes, we are very excited as well! We're going to celebrate a little, kiss our little boy goodnight and go to bed ourselves. It's almost midnight you know and it's been a very long day. Good, then we'll see you tomorrow! Goodnight."

Hanging up the pay phone, her body starts to quiver just a little from the cold late night air. She had forgotten to return the phone message hours earlier back at the recording studio and felt obligated to do so before the night was over.

Retreating to the comfort of the limousine in a hurry to get home, she quickly gets into the backseat and closes the door. Sliding over closely to her husband, he wraps his arms around her, snuggling. Then he begins rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to warm her up.

She gives him a smile and brushes her long black hair behind her ears. Kissing her lips, he returns the grin, raising his eyebrows in that quirky fashion of his. As if to say, "there's more where that came from!"

It had been a busy day and they were exhausted. The couple sat comfortably, resting in their black limousine as it sped through the streets of New Year City. Thankfully, they'd be home soon.

Finally, the limo pulled up alongside their apartment complex in the vestibule. The air was crisp and cold in the late evening night with Christmas only a couple weeks away. At this hour there was little-to-no foot traffic in the area.

Jose, the Doorman, saw the limo arriving and was halfway to the curb when the car pulled up. He popped open the car door, allowing the Husband's lovely Wife of eleven years to exit and start along the pathway first, heading toward the apartment entrance. Next, the Gentleman got out of the car and was only a few steps behind.

The Gentleman wasn't a naturalized citizen, but everyone here in the Big Apple made him feel "bloody" at home. He loved the city. The Gentleman was a citizen of the World, not simply one town, which was just one reason why the people here, and everywhere, responded with such love and respect.

As she approaches the steps of the archway, she spots a Stranger leaning against the black wrought iron fence bordering the pathway. Nearing the figure, an eerie feeling mounts within her. Getting closer, she decides to quicken her pace.

"Hello", says the voice.

She doesn't reply or even look in the direction of the Stranger, but continues on hurriedly toward the apartment, becoming very anxious. Her husband notices the happenings and passes the Stranger without intervention. The Stranger says nothing to the Gentleman, he simply stares. The couple nears the front door.

As the couple passes by, the Stranger steps out of the shadows and onto the walkway. His face is stoic, nondescript. His eyes are fixated on the Gentleman. Then, calmly and with precision, he brandishes a Charter Arms .38 revolver from beneath his coat. He assumes a combat stance and then yells out to the Gentleman whose now almost to the steps of the entrance.

The Husband hears the call and begins to slowly turn toward the voice, unknowingly.

The Assassin fires the gun twice hitting his target in the back. Shocked and dazed, the Man's body freezes. Time as well seems to be standing still. Another shot is fired, barely missing its mark and striking the building instead. Two more bullets are fired and quickly connect: one in the shoulder and one piercing the Man's heart.

The Husband staggers a few steps, moaning, "I'm shot, I'm shot," prior to crashing to the ground. His circular shaped spectacles fall from his face, broken. Blood is pouring from his body. He's bleeding profusely. His heart is racing!

Four bullets have invaded his body, entering in the vilest way possible. They've destroyed tissue and organs, severed veins and arteries; the bullets are extinguishing his life. He is dying.

The Killer drops his weapon, frozen, in awe at what he has accomplished.

The Gentleman's Wife screams at the horror she's witnessed, as Jay, the Concierge, immediately summons security and an ambulance. "Help, help!" she's screaming at the top of her lungs racing toward her lover, distraught.

The Man, lying in a pool of blood on the hard cold pavement, is bleeding to death. His heart, now in survival mode, frantically tries to replace the loss of blood; with little success. Pain is pulsating through his body as he feels life starting to abandon him.

His Spirit silently urging him to ... hold on, hold on!

The Light first appears very dimly and then slowly increases in intensity. His Soul alone experiences the happening. Here, there is no beginning and there is no end. Nor is there any out or in. All is white and the Energy is total. There was silence, then ...

"Your life has been full. You have loved, learned, felt extreme pain and immense joy. Spreading peace and love to all, spreading my word, my message."

This was bliss. Pure energy surrounded by real love. This is what he was made of. What everything is made of. His Being was now one with the Divine. This is Love, omnipresent.

"Nothing will be gained by your death. Your time on Earth is not done. Your work is not yet complete. You will continue to deliver the word to all."

The Gentleman, now pure light and energy with the One, replies, "And the word, your message, is Love?"

"Yes, my child: Love".

Reaching her husband and overcome with grief, she kneels on the blood covered ground, holding his body, cradling his head in her lap. Stroking back his long hair, soiled and matted with blood. Looking up at the dark night sky, she screams, "No! No, please!"

Crying, she begins to pray. Singing his name, trying to will her life into his. Then closing her eyes, rocking back and forth slowly, gently; she prays to rid him of his wounds, his agony. Willing for her spirit to enter his body, and fill him with love.

His body suddenly reacts, going into convulsions. He's gasping for air ... for life! Continuing to pray, she clutches his face to her bosom. Coughing blood, his loving wife clings to her husband's shot riddled body.

Police and ambulance sirens scream in the distance, fast approaching.

Chanting his name again, she gazes into his cold, distant eyes. His chest moves ever so much as he takes a small breath. Her tears drip onto his face. His eyes flicker once. Noticing the movement, she pleads again, "Please, please!"

She continues stroking his hair, her body shaking with fear. The slightest eye movement again arises in him as silent tears stream down her face. His breathing increases.

A small crowd gathers as the Police take the would-be Assassin into custody. There are cries and screams when it's realized who the man lying in the pool of blood is.

Slowly, the Husband begins to open his eyes. His mouth is agape with blood trickling from the corners. Sobbing, she holds him closely, looking into his eyes. He takes a slow hard breath and looks up at her. Their souls meet.

Softly, in an almost inaudible tone, he says to his wife, "I love you" in his distinctive British voice.

The tears are flowing heavily now. "I love you too!" she replies tenderly in her Japanese accent.

She holds him tightly now and vows never to let him go. A grin appears on her face, then his. God has answered her prayer!

The Word ... would still be delivered; on this, the eighth day of December, nineteen eighty.

Copyright 2007 by Russell Waterman

All Rights Reserved