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Timothy is a quiet and withdrawn person who is liable to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?
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