How I Became a Hermit with Friends

V Pendragon

September 11, 2001 is one of those, “What were you doing when?” moments. In this case, my story begins the day before, on September 10th.

I want to emphasize, before I tell my story, that I am not any kind of psychic. I do, however, seem to be some sort of “open space” in which information sometimes simply appears. It hasn’t happened often and, I can promise you, I am never looking for it…, in fact, I often — usually — don’t even understand what it is that I am “seeing” in what some people might call my mind’s eye.

My second husband was a rabid nudist. I had made the mistake, sometime early in our marriage, of being curious about a nude beach I’d heard of in Massachusetts somewhere. I’d heard about nude beaches and read about them but I’d never been to one. My husband was, for some reason, put off by the idea but finally gave in to my pleas. If I’d had any idea what that request would yield, I would never have made it. The man turned into a fanatical nudist. He was naked all the damn time. My own response and been more like, “Been there; seen that; end of story.”

As a result of his conversion, from then on, in the summertime, I would find myself sharing the task of dragging many pounds of beach equipment across a large parking lot, down a lengthy but narrow boardwalk, and then across great stretches of sand in a quest to find a spot on the beach that was near enough to where volleyball would be played… but, for the sake of my sanity, not too near. My husband had found a nude beach that he felt was close enough to reach for weekend Saturday trips.

I am not a fan of large bodies of water or, for that matter, large bodies of sand. But I went without complaining because I grew up understanding that submitting was always less troublesome than objecting. Thus it was, that I found myself on the beach known as Gunnison Beach — a.k.a. Sandy Hook — on September 10th, 2001. Sandy Hook, to my knowledge, the only nude beach in New Jersey, is located somewhat more than two hours away from where we were living at that time. From Gunnison beach, one can see a good portion of the New York City skyline.

At days end, we headed back up the narrow boardwalk towards the parking lot and, as we approached the road that we needed to cross, something caught my eye. Off to the right, obviously a part of New York City, I saw what seemed to be two tall, narrow buildings literally glowing against the sky, not just reflecting light, but somehow, glowing. I couldn’t see any windows — the buildings were too far away, so it just looked to me like two glowing monoliths… but I’d never noticed them before and, heaven knows, I’d been to the beach countless times. I had to assume that the buildings were there before, as they looked to be quite large.

I asked my husband if he knew what they were. “Of course,” he replied, “those are the twin towers.” He said it is if I should know, as if the buildings were famous or something. But I didn’t know. Why would I?

So, we continued on home, tired from a long day. At bedtime, we went our separate ways, he, staying — and snoring — in the master bedroom; me, moving to the smaller room with twin beds where the kids stayed when they came to visit.

Normally, after such a long day, I would fall asleep pretty quickly, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t. I had been learning, at the time, about a vibrational therapy system called Aura Soma and I thought that perhaps one of their ‘treatments’ might help me fall asleep. I picked one at random; a bottle called The Christ. That seemed like a lovely choice, so I applied it and lay back down in bed.

Immediately upon doing so, however, I saw myself looking at the United States, as though I were a very large bird flying quite some distance from the land; I could see the whole country. It was night — as it actually was — and the country was in darkness, speckled with tiny white lights that were thicker in some places and almost nonexistent and others. The East Coast was particularly well-dotted with little lights.

I watched the scene for quite a while, until I fell asleep, wondering why on earth I would be seeing such a thing.

The next morning, I was on a phone call with a client, (I was, at that time, working as a hands-on shamanic healer). She was setting up an appointment with me when, all of a sudden, with a great sense of urgency, she asked if I were anywhere near a television. I said that I was not. She said to me, “you need to get there. Get there now.” Without another word, she then hung up the phone.

I knew that I would find my husband lying in bed watching television, so I went there. The screen was filled with the face of an innocuous looking man.

“Who’s that man?” I asked him.

“That’s your president,” he said, in a tone that reeked with “Are you kidding me?”

“No! That can’t be right.”

He assured me that it was right, gave a brief description of the catastrophe that had just occurred and told me that’s why the president was there in the midst of what looked to me like utter chaos.

I then went into some strange state — trancelike, I suppose — and I said, with great urgency in my voice, “There’s going to be more.”

My husband looked at me with a very strange look on his face. “What’dya mean?”

Still entranced, I answered, “Two more. Two more things. This isn’t all.”

(I have goose pimples all over my body just retelling the story. It was all so surreal.)

I had no idea where what was coming out of my mouth had come from… And, sadly, I had been correct.

Again, this is not something that normally happens to me. I don’t know why it happened to me. I do know, though, that it changed me. I became — and remain — hypersensitive to the energies of people. I live practically like a hermit — I call myself a hermit with friends — and, generally speaking, I avoid large gatherings of people. I can’t take it… so many people carry so much pain and many times that pain has translated into anger, and the anger isn’t always directed onto other people, sometimes it’s held inside the people, as if it were burning them up from the inside. It doesn’t feel good to me; it can’t possibly feel good to them.

The Covid 19 quarantine has been heaven for me. I suspect, understanding myself more fully now than I did for quite some time after the incident — understanding, too, the pleasure and comfort of not feeling everybody else’s pain, and that seclusion is simply a more comfortable way for me to be in the world.




Astrology-Informed Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor

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V Pendragon

V Pendragon

Astrology-Informed Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor

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