Nine Minutes in Heaven by David Connor

Author:David Connor [Mulder, David Connor and E.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2019-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two men in holy matrimony.”

I ended up in Tennessee. I knew from a sign at the side of the road, Welcome to Tennessee. It was beautiful in April. There was no need to wait for May, unless it was May. Just because I knew where, that didn’t mean I was certain of when. I was in the 1800s, I surmised, judging by my attire, the architecture, and a lack of motorcars around me. Had I been afforded a GPS for time and realm travels, Tennessee in the 1800s would have been my second choice after Heaven.

The sky was a mix of blue and light gray, the sun bright and warm, and the trees as green as Patrick’s eyes.

“Are you practicing your lines?” Yes. He was there, too.

“I am,” I said.

“I have a sense you’re going to tell me you brought me here.” Those beautiful eyes sparkled as he spoke.

“I wish I wasn’t as aware of that as I am,” I replied.

“Another vision?” he asked.

“With the help of anesthesia, I presume.”

How did I know that, too? The fact I recalled being wheeled into surgery was a clue. I’d gotten really good at knowing when a dream was a dream. Self-preservation, my therapist once called it. We worked on behavioral techniques I could use to protect myself from the nightmares brought on by war and my home life. IRT—imagery rehearsal technique—was one of them. I would write down the plot of a recurring nightmare, change it into something less frightening, and then read it a couple times throughout the day and before getting into bed in the morning. For instance, explosions in the dessert became fireworks in a grassy park. In real life, I didn’t care for those, either, but they were a lot less frightening than the alternative in actuality or during sleep.

I also had a mantra that worked for me. “Anything that happens before I wake is a dream.” I said that to myself every time my head hit the pillow, several times, especially when I rolled to my right side. I knew that was my sleeping position. Once there, I would drift off soon. The words and thought often followed me into slumber, now. Even if I didn’t recall every detail of a dream when awake, I sometimes did remember reciting the sentence in my mind while in one.

This, however, hopefully wasn’t that. I also now knew Jefferson came to me in the most vivid way possible when my mind was clear and restful. I believed it. That didn’t happen often. The drugs would have made it possible.

“Last I recall, I was going into surgery. Now, I’m here, hundreds of miles and hundreds of years from where that’s happening, preparing to perform my very first wedding.”

While counting down from a hundred for the anesthesiologist, I’d had the foresight to be thinking of love, of Patrick, Jefferson, and Calvin.

“I also recall Jefferson telling me my visons were real and accurate depictions of events in his afterlife.

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