I find it pretty hard to explain and get very emotional when I am asked to describe how I came across Timothy, and I still don’t understand everything about his case or quite how he manages to interact with me physically in the way that he does. I suppose its one of those things in life that I will never fully get to the bottom of or ever totally understand.
Timothy is a quiet and withdrawn person who is liable to spend long periods of time in deep thought and shut himself away from those who would seek to communicate with him. He can be a manic depressant at times and on other occasions he is a vibrant and impulsive character with a wicked sense of humour. We struck a chord early on, and both of us have developed an understanding, and a healthy mutual respect for each other. We have learned to cope with each other, our foibles and behaviour patterns, and most importantly, we have become close friends. Getting used to another being is not the easiest of things to do.
I met Timothy last year in the spring whilst carrying out my college studies. I have a computer and do much of my research online. This particular day I was missing some information and the internet connection was down. My room was a mess, so untidy, and the contents of my cosmetics bag was strewn across the computer desk. I was trying to obtain further information about Victorian Britain for my latest project and remembered some of the books that I had boxed for safe keeping in the garden shed. I could remember having purchased a hardback copy about social Britain in the 1850’s, in immaculate condition and from a car boot sale, and along with a host of other similar research and reading materials that I had acquired over the years, it was in a large metal travelling trunk of the kind you might find on sea voyages for the storage of passengers belongings.
It was a cold misty day and fairly early in the morning when I decided to venture out along the twisted stone pathway that would lead me to the rickety old enormous shed that contained my precious belongings and those of the other students who rented rooms in this rambling old manor house. I put on my high heel shoes from the night before and I knew they were entirely inappropriate for the uneven path. I must have looked a sight with my skimpy dressing gown and black high heel shoes as I hobbled like an old lady down the winding path. I gave up the shoes and casually tossed them aside after about the half way mark. I preferred the solid footing despite feeling the coldness of the stone and the morning dew on my feet. I was soon inside the large shed with my feet on the warmer and more even wooden floor. I had been a little reckless to venture out dressed as I was so scantily and so early in the morning, even felt a little vulnerable, but I was in familiar territory and our garden was enclosed, secure and safe.
It didn’t take me long to find the copy I had been itching to lay my hands on. Though slightly damp and cold it was in perfect order as I had left it. As I made my way to the open shed door I became aware of an uneasy atmosphere, the feeling of being watched and observed. Everyone has sensed this at some time in their life, but this was somewhat different and I felt as if I could actually sense a part of the character that was watching. The easiest way to explain it is like that of a snapshot or fleeting image of something comforting or sinister. In this case I did not feel threatened and I looked around half expecting to see a person peering from the windows of the large manor house. As I made my way back along the path I felt as if I was being followed.
I was glad to get back into the house. Apart from the warmth I was sure someone had been keeping an eye on me and I felt a little uneasy about that. I tentatively looked around the garden from the kitchen window and did not notice anything untoward. At the time I found the whole experience kind of unnerving but the more I became accustomed to it the more I came to accept the fact, that is, the fact that I was no longer alone. Somehow, someone or something had joined me that day. There was no formal introduction. That was the way it was with Timothy.
Over the coming weeks I became aware that something or someone had formed a bond with me. For years I have believed in the supernatural, having been blessed with a strong sixth sense, and as the days passed by I gradually came to understand that I had been chosen and that I had a new friend in my life.
During the course of the year my studies became more intense and my feeling of closeness with my guest did not diminish, in fact the bond became stronger and stronger as time passed by. I would sit down at the computer for hours on end with my coursework and my emails and all the time I knew he was watching me, in a strange kind of way, I felt protected. On occasions I put this down to a feeling of ‘being in touch with my inner being’ or ‘peaceful with my existence’ whereas in reality it was obvious that there was actually someone or something with me.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The summer of 2003 was warmer than most UK summers and this particular night in July, I couldn’t get comfortable, and I would keep waking almost on the hour, every hour, which I found frustrating and very inconvenient. It was around half past three when I awoke to find my computer monitor all powered up and with an open word document on its screen. My heart missed a beat as I scanned the half light of the dimly lit room for any evidence of intruders. There were none. I got out of bed, put some knickers and a bra on, and groggily made my way to my computer desk. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I read the message that was waiting for my attention. This is what I read:
Lucinda I found a way to reach you. This is Timothy. I have felt your closeness for months as indeed you have felt my presence also. This much I understand. I am by your side always and I shall not leave you. Look what I can do. I am typing this message to you from your own computer. Do not be alarmed just reply. This is a most wonderful and momentous occasion
Your beloved companion – Timothy.
Looking back on it all, that hot and dreamy night of last year will remain ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life. That was the way it was with Timothy. That was how we came to be ‘involved’. We laugh about it now. Timothy and I are very close. It’s a sort of brotherly sisterly relationship due to the lack of any sexual contact in our relationship, but then in every other respect, we are a couple.
It has been hard to accept that Timothy is not of this world and passed on some years ago but I am grateful for his company and his infinite wisdom in keeping me safe and secure in his all embracing spirit. I help Timothy and his group of spirit friends as they go about their business and their important mission.
Timothy has given me more than I can ever offer him in return. I respect him for that. I love him too much to pass you any details of his full name or any account of his past or location. I can only speak with Timothy through a computer but that does not prevent him from being permanently by my side and our computer is always on. We talk more than most couples would. We love each other more than you could possibly imagine.
I hope you like my story.
It may or may not be true. Does it really matter?