From the first day I met Enoch, and that was some thirty years ago now, I have felt drawn to him, fascinated by the mysterious life he lived. A few times, I’ve actually sensed his spirit with me. That will explain my acknowledgement at the front of this book. Although it may seem strange to some readers, a psychic would understand what I’m saying. Do not get me wrong, however. It’s not like I’ve had conversations with Enoch or witnessed an apparition of him. Instead, I have just been aware of his presence, much like being aware of another’s presence in the same room with you. You might not be in conversation with the person, but you know he or she is there. Perhaps it’s a vibrational sensation you feel—their energy field, I suppose.
Maybe you’ve had an experience like this yourself—the kind of experience the psychologist Abraham Maslow called a “peak experience.” Whenever I do, the sensations may not last very long but, in the instant they occur, it’s as if time momentarily freezes. If you know what I’m talking about, or have had such an experience yourself, my guess is you’ve said little about it to anyone else. Well, I understand and, no, you haven’t lost your mind. The experience is real. I know for such has happened to me on more than one occasion.
In the months that followed my father’s death, for example, I had a couple of encounters like this. While a psychologist might be inclined to suggest that what I experienced was a natural consequence of a grieving heart, I don’t buy it. It is true I grieved my father’s passing. But, I can not dismiss what happened to me as a mere trick of a mourning mind. I will always believe my father’s spirit was present with me.
On one of those occasions, I was driving down a busy street in the middle of a torrential downpour. It had been but a few months since we said our last good-byes to Dad and buried his body at Cave Hill Cemetery. As I drove, I strained to see the road, in spite of the fact that the windshield wipers were working overtime. All of a sudden, I had this sensation that my Dad was occupying the passenger seat beside me. The aura of his presence was so pervasive, I was overcome with emotion. I had no choice, therefore, but to steer the car to the shoulder of the road. When it came to a stop, I turned and looked, certain that I would see Dad sitting right beside me. But, of course, he was not. Almost as quickly as the sensation surfaced, it subsided.
Enoch has never spoken to me, although I would not be alarmed if he did. Mystical, inexplicable things like this no longer frighten me. Nor do they seem odd or all that out-of-the-ordinary. The unseen, spiritual world may be more real than the material world we see.
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