10th October.
Travelling further north Molly and Will had arrived in Paihia the day before. Whilst driving up the hill before coming into the small waterfront village, there was one part of the road where Molly felt a rush of heat through her body, her head felt light and slightly dizzy. She had woken the next morning feeling unwell, headachy and a little ‘off’. After checking-in to the motel on arriving, the couple decided to wander through the village to find somewhere to have dinner and see what the area had to offer. Paihia is a waterfront village in the Bay of Islands, a very picturesque location, and a small port for water activities, sailing, parasailing, canoeing, snorkelling, scuba diving, fishing. It was another popular tourist destination and the small village was bustling with visitors. The waterfront was lined with restaurants, cafes, motels and shops, amongst these were a sprinkling of old buildings in original condition from the pioneering days of the mid 1800’s. Across the baywas the settlement of Russell, on another portion of the mainland which was more easily accessible by a passenger ferry. To drive would take them more than an hour along a metal road.
It had been a couple of days since Molly had written to Grace, or meditated. Still feeling unwell, Molly suggested they return to the motel so that she could write. Will was happy to do some work on his current job, a drawing for a book he was illustrating for The Little Book Publishing Company in Wellington. The motel room was an upstairs studio apartment, the open plan design combined the lounge area and bedroom. It had the feeling of spaciousness, high ceilings and a glass wall in which a sliding door opened out onto a balcony. The bathroom had a large, deep and inviting spa bath.
Molly madeherself comfortable on the bed with her journal and began to write….
‘Dear Grace,
What an amazing couple of days! Have you been able to see or sense what I have been experiencing? I hope I can meet with you in The Attic again today. I have missed our home.’
Molly’s body relaxed into mediation with ease. Her mind unravelled, drifting with that beautiful blissful, floating feeling of nothingness which calms the mind completely, allowing it to open up to her imagination. She saw herself standing at the bottom of the stairs which led to The Attic in her house. They seemed so real! Walking up the stairs and opening the door, she entered a dark room. It felt misty, the air damp as if she has stepped outside into a cool night. As her eyes adjust to the darkness she began to see the outline of a fire pit in the middle of the room. The more she focussed on this the clearer the vision became. She was aware of the need to slow her breathing, by focussing on the vision before her, and was able to see it in more detail. There before her were The Aunties – Manaia of the Four Winds sitting around the fire, each of them had a poi (a light ball and string used to swing rhythmically with dance, song and music) on the ground by their feet. Standing proudly behind them were The Maori Boys, in their hands they each have a taiaha (a long wooden weapon carved at one end). Through the mist comes a man and a woman both wearing beautifully woven and intricately decorated kakahu (cloaks). They took their designated seats in the circle, nodded greetings to each of the women and young men. Then the chief stood, his heavily tattooed face serious, and waved his hand at Molly, beckoning her to come and sit with them. Grace was already seated in the circle with the women. Molly hesitated, trying to grasp what she was witnessing here. The chief insists and the women turn looking expectantly at Molly, but her mind was struggling with this and her hesitation was not tolerated and their faces expressed that the look of expectancy had now turned to demand. The older woman held out her hand and smiled reassuringly. She led Molly to her allotted place, and stood behind her placing both of her hands heavy on Molly’s shoulders sat her down insistently. “Breathe” the woman whispered as she squeezed Molly’s shoulders, as she closed her eyes trying to focus on her breathing, her was heart racing. A vision flashed before her, a story of their history, speeding backwards in Time from the present moment to way back in the past, event after event rapidly flickering like scenes in a movie until there was nothing but a dark swirling mist and the smell of sulphur, pungent in her nose, so real she felt it burn her throat and made her eyes stream. Feeling the hot burning sensation deep in her lungs, Molly began to cough, a hard dry rasping cough. She could feel a lump rising in her throat like she was about to vomit. Out of her mouth emerged a mist-like creature, a Manaia (Spiritual Guardian). He was one of The Ancient Ones from before the beginning of Time. He stood before Molly, large, mystical, and very lifelike. He spoke to her in a language completely unfamiliar, not even a trace of Maori in the words. She did not understand a word of what was being said. All Molly could do was focus on how the sound of its words made her feel… humble, honoured, blessed, privileged. An older woman stood before Molly holding one hand to her ear, the other to her belly, and translated his words.
“Remember the words of Hinemoa and what she stands for – Unity. Future generations must grow together, work together, create together for the good of Mother Earth as their focus.”
The chief stood up tall and proud, thumped his taiaha to the hard, dry, earthen floor three times, and stated aloud in English, “We are done!”
And as quickly as the vision began, it ended. The room fell silent and instantly into complete darkness, Molly did not know what to do. Where was Grace?
She opened her eyes to find herself back in the motel room, the journal open on her lap. Will was sitting on the lounge, his legs propped up on the coffee table, sketch pad on his knees, engrossed in his work. ‘What the fuck?!’ Molly thought, struggling to grasp what she had just experienced.
“Write” she heard Grace whisper in her mind. Without delay or distraction, she wrote down what she had just experienced before the vivid memory began to fade.
12th October.
On their way to the cafe for a morning coffee, Molly and Will walked hand in hand along the beach, enjoying the warmth in the spring sun and the gorgeous blue-green of the water gently lapping onto the sand around their bare feet. Something caught Molly’s attention, out of the corner of her eye she saw a splash in the water. Was it a bird fishing, or a fish jumping? Then she saw it again, this time whilst looking directly at the water. It was a pod of dolphins! Oh bless, this was just what she had wished for! To be able to see dolphins in their natural environment, stirred a fizzy feeling inside of her, it was so magical! Smoothly they cruised through the water, cresting, occasionally releasing water through their blowholes and then diving just below the surface of the water again, effortlessly, playfully. She felt deeply privileged to see them so close up, within a meter from the shoreline.
The day before, Molly and Will had caught the ferry across to Russell. Sitting on the top level of the boat, they had a 360 degree view across the Bay of Islands. As they walked off the ferry and along the pier Molly had felt chills run up her arms and down her back. It was a good feeling, like when she knows that she is going in the right direction. And the day continued to unfold in that way, the lining up of people and experiences felt as exciting as seeing these dolphins. They had walked around the small village, enjoying the art galleries, beautiful architecture and had decided to visit one of the local tourist attractions – Flagstaff Lookout which had significant historical reference. The history of the township of Russell was very colourful. The view from Flagstaff Lookout was amazing, overlooking the Bay of Islands in all directions, being the highest point of land in the area. But up on the hill the energy made Molly’s head spin and she sat down on the grass feeling unwell. She felt the shift walking up the hill, thinking to herself, ‘Oh crap, am I really that unfit?’ Her chest felt tight and her body heavy, her legs unwilling. Walking back down the steep hill to town through the bush reserve had brought her some relief. The coolness of the Kawakawa bushes (Native pepper tree with heart-shaped leaves) did their magic on her as she and Will walked down to the water’s edge and into town along the shore line. They had picked some Kawakawa leaves to put into the spa bath when they returned to the motel. Molly wanted to understand what was happening to her and would see if she could visit The Attic later that night.
Whilst they were waiting for the ferry, the couple sat on the wharf and ate fish and chips watching the sun set behind Waitangi on the other side of the water. It was breathtakingly beautiful, against the silhouetted backdrop of the hills, the yachts bobbed gently on the calm, still waters with reflected shades of orange, red and yellow of the setting sun. The scene was postcard perfect.
With dinner taken care of, and after having enjoyed a deep, hot bath with Will, Molly sat on the lounge and wrote to Grace.
‘Dear Grace,
I do hope I am able to meet with you in The Attic. There are so many questions I want answers to, Maybe you can help me?’
She closed her eyes, felt her body relax with each breath, her pen slipped from her fingers onto the floor. Molly imagined walking up the stairs and reached out to turn the porcelain handle on the door into The Attic. She smiled at how real it felt, cool beneath her hand. Opening the door, she found that Grace was in The Attic waiting for her, sitting in her armchair by the fireplace, sipping tea from a fine bone china cup. Grace she was indeed! Everything about her was graceful, the way she moved, the way she talked, even the way she laughed.
“Oh hello, I thought you would call by this evening. How are you today?” Grace enquired.
Molly paused, deep in thought before she replied, then said, “Well…a mixture of things really.” She sat down in the chair next to Grace and told her in detail about her day.
“So what do you think Grace?”
Grace thought carefully about her reply, “Remember Molly, everything is energy, vibrational, just varying frequencies of it which determine whether it is perceived as physical or non-physical. What you were experiencing Honey was the contrast of this. In the Physical World these variations can be felt by those whom are sensitive to perceiving the shift in energetic states, of what I call energy ‘wobbles’. These may be felt as temperature variations, a rush or drop of energy, or like the ground is giving way beneath your feet.
These are the strong locational points of co-existence, active places in the physical world where spirits can be felt easily. There are many of them, especially in areas like this where there is a heavy history imprint, residual energy. You can have fun with this, as some spirits do, hence mischievous hauntings or poltergeist activities. They can be playful or forceful in their attempts to reach between the fabric of the Universe into the Physical World. Sometimes their efforts to reach us are a little misguided and appear as minor accidents, maybe a spilt drink, a flickering light, or a misplaced object.”
The vision of The Attic faded and Molly opened her eyes to see that Will was in bed asleep, having left just one wall light on for her, and a note on top of her journal which read, ‘wake me when you are done xoxo.’
Molly looked around for her pen, finding it on the floor by her foot and quickly put this recent vision into written words whilst the images were still vibrant in her memory. Another hour had passed by the time she was ready to get into bed. Still feeling wide awake, she snuggled up to Will and kissed him on the back of his neck. He stirred at her touch, turned over, and pulled her body into his. Her senses already heightened, the touch of their bodies was like the taste of warm honey, soothing, delicious and energising. The idea of going to sleep faded as Will’s sleepy, gentle kisses become more passionate, responding to Molly’s eager body…
The Attic 