12-19-17
RELEASING THE MATRIX
Part 1
A Novel through Sue Lie and the Arcturians
Introduction
I just moved into a new house. That is a “new house” to me, as the house is actually quite old. I inherited this house, from my Grandmother who had lived there her entire life. The house is very big with many rooms, as well as a cellar and an attic. The cellar had far too many spiders, but as soon as I was settled in, I decided to explore the attic.
I climbed the small stairway, which was behind the mysterious locked door, for which I finally had the key. It was an old fashioned key, an old fashioned keyhole, and an old fashioned door. Of course, my Grandmother cherished the house exactly as it had always been.
Therefore, outside of important repairs and appropriate painting, the house remained the way it had always been. I spent many summers at Grandma’s house, and searched vigilantly to find the key that I now held in my hand. The fact that Grandma never let me go into the attic only made me more and more anxious to enter it.
I am sorry that my Grandmother’s death is the reason why I could find the key the will, and eventually, open the attic door. In fact, I have lived here every summer of my life. My parents were not too interested in raising their only child, me, so it was boarding school during the school year and Grandma’s house in the summer.
My mother had a nanny who sort of watched me when I wasn’t at Boarding School or Grandma’s house. However, the nanny was too expensive, so they dropped me off to live with my Grandmother fulltime when I was only 8 years old.
They did not even wait for Grandma to open the door when they rushed off to wherever they went. I was never so relieved when Grandma’s smiling face welcomed me into her, which was now our, home. I lived there happily with Grandma until I went away to collage.
Thank Heavens for Grandma, or my Mother would have put me in a Boarding School all year round. But I should not speak ill of my parents as they died in a horrid car accident when I was only 13. Because I had such a history of living with my Grandmother, the state allowed me to continue living with her.
It was the happiest moment of my life when I knocked on Grandma’s door with all my cherished possessions in boxes beside me. My parents barely said good-by to me and rushed off to where ever they went the second that Grandmas opened her door. But, somehow, I knew that this was the last time they would drop me off at my Grandma’s house, and that I would not see them again.
I was never so relieved when Grandma’s smiling face welcomed me into her, which was now our, home. I lived there happily with Grandma until I went away to collage. I never saw my parents again.
I must say that my self-esteem was pretty damaged by my parent’s behavior, but Grandma had always made up for that. However, now, as a young woman, I was alone. Unfortunately, Grandma left this world just before I finished college, but she left her home and everything she had to me.
There was a bit of money in the package, so I toured Europe for the summer after my graduation. I think it was too much to go to Grandma’s house and not find her waiting for me with a warm hug and cookies. But, eventually, I had to go home to what was no longer Grandma’s home, but my house.
I never saw my parents again, as they moved far away and never invited me to visit. I must say that my self-esteem was pretty damaged by my parent’s behavior, but Grandma had always made up for that. However, now, as a young woman, I was alone.
However, having Grandma’s house made me feel that I had the home that I had always loved to visit. Now it was my home, and I was standing in front of the door, key in the lock, but hesitating to turn it.
I knew that I would NOT smell the fresh baked cookies, or enjoy the wonderful smell that always filled her home. At least she had died suddenly, and in her beloved home. I am still guilty that I did not leave Europe to come to her funeral.
However, I had a very vivid dream the very night after she died in which she came to me and said, “I have asked in my will, which I have attached a copy to this letter, to be cremated. Please do not leave your vacation to come to my cremation. I will come to you. Please allow me that final joy of showing you the lovely Lightbody that I now wear.”
“Sure enough, the very next evening she came to me in a body of Golden Light. The only thing she said was, “Beloved Granddaughter, I have left everything I had to you, and most important, I have left you the key to the attic. I love you infinitely, so I wanted to tell you that I now know that life is eternal and death is an illusion.
“Please remember always that you are my Beloved Granddaughter whom will love conditionally beyond all space and time.”
I was very confused by the “beyond all space and time” comment, as that was not the way my Grandmother spoke. Nonetheless, the statement made me cry uncontrollably, but not just for sorrow. Instead, I cried for the great love that I had always felt from Grandma, and for the love I would always have for her.
CHAPTER ONE
Finding the Journal
When I first returned from Europe, I went to Grandma’s resting place with a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers. However, as I got closer and closer to her “resting place,” I knew that I would not be able to face her grave, so I turned the other way, away from the cemetery and away from what remained of my grandmother.
After a few months living in Grandma’s house, I was finally ready to go to her final resting place. I was very tempted to turn away again, but then I remembered the vision of her in a golden body, which gave me great comfort. Also, I wanted to thank her for all the money that she had left me.
I still wonder how an elder woman who never seemed to have a job could have so much money. My parents had been very tight with the money they gave me, and said it was because my Boarding School was so expensive. But, later, I learned that my Grandmother had paid for all my education.
I tried many times to ask Grandma how she could afford to give me all that money, but she always said, “Don’t worry about it dear. It is all taken care of.” I never found out what she meant by, “It is al taken care of,” but she left me enough that would not have to work for quite a while.
Fortunately, I was smart enough to get a good money manager, who put me on a budget, or I might have blown through my money like my parents always did. I am now enrolled in graduate school, which will start in a few months. Therefore, I am focusing my attention on taking care of the house, the large yard, and exploring the “locked attic” that Grandma would not let me enter.
In fact, she even refused to talk about the attic, which gave a great sense of mystery and me want to enter it even more. However, the other day I was rummaging around in some boxes in the pantry and found a key that said, “Attic” on it.
You would think that I would instantly run up and go into the attic, but now that I could enter it, I was afraid. Grandma was not a timid woman, so when she never allowed me to enter the attic, my childhood-self made up all kinds of stories of what mysterious things were happening in the attic.
As an adult I knew these stories could not be true, but the fear that my stories created, still remained deep inside of me. So, again, I found many reasons why I was “too busy” to explore the attic and put the key in a “safe place,” which I unconsciously made myself forget.
As soon as I realized that I was letting my fear get the best of me, I began my search to “find the key.” Of course, I searched the house for months and could not find it. Then, finally, one day, I was in a hurry to go on a date and could not find the necklace that I wanted to wear.
In my hurry and aggravation, I turned the jewelry box upside down to dump everything on my dresser. And then there, to my surprise, was the key tapped to the bottom of my jewelry box. I instantly recognized the key and ran towards the door to the attic. But when I got to the door, I paused.
Why was I so afraid of going into that attic? It had been many months that I had very happily lived in this house. There was no reason for my feelings, I told myself again and again. For two days I tried to convince myself to unlock the door and walk the stairway up to the attack.
Then, I had another dream of Grandma in her Golden Body. All she said was, “Do not be afraid my love.” She might have meant something other than the key, but as soon as I awoke I put on some jeans and a t-shirt, took the key from the bottom of my jewelry box, and headed for the door to the attic.
The key fit perfectly, in fact, it was also as if it turned itself. I tried not to ponder on that strange sensation as I already had more adrenalin then I needed. The door opened as easily as the key turned. “This is weird,” I told myself. “one would think that such and old key would not work so easily on such an old door.
I did not realize that the high window towards the top of the house was for the attic, but there is was with the Sun shinning brightly on a particular pile of old papers. Since everything that had happened so far was surrealistic, I decided to look at that pile of papers first.
I carefully moved the loose papers and found a bound manuscript just under them. It was as if those papers had been put there to hid, or protect, the bound manuscript, which I carefully picked up. As I opened the book to the first page, I found an introduction, which I will share word for word. It was written by a person called Shara Lynn.
In fact, the book/manuscript, was Shara Lynn’s journal. “I am sure my Grandmother got this book at one of the many old bookstores she loved to go to. Was this the book that she always seemed to be looking for.
I remember the joy of rummaging through the old book stacks in search of a mysterious book that Grandma was always looking for. I wonder if the book I just found is the one she was always looking for?
I guess I will never know the answer to that. However, if I read the book, I might get some clues at to what my Grandmother was up to. It was then that I began to sob. Up until now, I had pushed by sorrow away into a safe place that I could visit when I was ready.
But as the memory of looking through old, used bookstores with Grandma searching for something that she never shared with me, I was hit by my great sorrow of loosing her. I began to sob, almost uncontrollably, as I remembered all the wonderful times I had spent with my beloved Grandmother.
Finally, my tears spent, I was able to carefully open the old book to discover what was inside. To my surprise, the book was actually written by a person named Shara Lynn, and it was her journal.
Who was this Shara Lynn, and how did my Grandmother get her book? “Well,” I told myself, “You will not find out until you take the book downstairs and start reading it.” Thank Heavens, the practical me came while before the sorrowful, and more lonely than I thought person, could take over my thoughts.
In fact, before I go more into my problems, I want to share the first chapter with you.
“Wait.” I said to myself. “Who is this “you” that came into my thoughts? For some reason the name Shara Lynn came back into my mind.
“Who is this Shara Lynn and why does she keep coming into my mind?” I yelled to no one. However, once again, I felt the emanation, no, I am sure it was just the memory of, my Grandmother’s sweet voice saying, “Read the book dear. I left it here for you.”
Now I was really spooked to hear my Grandmother answer my thoughts. However, I then realized that she had been answering all my thoughts since she had passed on. (I cannot bare to say the word “died.”)
I think the reason why I actually opened the book and started to read it was to distract me from my sorrow. I have always loved a good mystery, and this was, indeed, a mystery. Therefore, I took the book firmly in my hands, left the attack, walked down the long stairs and locked the door again.
Why did I feel a need to lock the door, and why did I “hide” the key to the attack in my jewelry book again? I am now able to realize that I was, indeed, following some form of “higher guidance,” but I did not even know about that term back then.
Even with the keep back in my jewelry box, and the book recovered and waiting next to my bed, I did not even open it for more days that I can remember. Why was I so frightened by this book? What could be so “scary” in my Grand Mother’s Journal.
Well, I was about to find out.
(to be continued)
