The Girl With Gray Eyes

May 29th, 2021

So when I got a quiet weekend to myself, I set up another regression via zoom. I went ahead and used Wellness Canada since I did get results and would like to keep working with Jennifer. Why ruin what works?

So after the usual chat about the weather and expectations, we dived back into hypnosis.

We used a different going under technique and I arrived at a footpath in a lush, green area. I followed the path to a wooden bridge. There was a roaring waterfall creating a small river which the bridge passed over. On the bridge was a figure in a hooded cloak. Now the first thing I think of is the grim reaper and so nothing is revealed from what the hypnotist calls the “guardian”. But as the guardian’s role is explained, it lightens up. The black cloak becomes a shade of burgundy. I can see a face now. Heart-shaped face, lily-white skin. The guardian has fire-red hair and ice-blue eyes. Her lips are such a deep rose-red that the color is almost painted onto her. She says nothing to me but nods in the direction in front of me and allows me to pass over the bridge to the other side.

There are three paths in front of me. The left path leads on to the green meadow. The path in front of me leads to a forest-like area where it is too dark to see far ahead of it. The last path leads downhill to the beach.

I consider my options. The forest path is drawing me in but I refuse it. Ida is at the beach and I’m not ready to explore other lives until I let her show me what she needs to show me.

I go down the foggy path to the beach. Once my feet touch the sand, I’m no longer there. I smell the paint and I know where I am. We’re back on Titanic. Back in the corridors of third class.

I can hear my feet echoing off the floor. My hands glide over the white, metal walls. This time is different. There is no rush to get above deck. Even the clothing is different. She’s wearing a gray dress instead of the Victorian-style nightgown she always wears. Same black loafer shoes though. I’m half-convinced they might be the only shoes she has.

This time, we are on E deck again but not in Scotland Road. We are outside of that where the hallway meets with the grand staircase. I can see the door to the Turkish Baths. We look up at the glass dome above the grand staircase. Even down here, you can still see it. The light shimmers off of it and it sparkles across the room.

She wants to go up and see it in person. Hell, I want to go up and see it in person. I’ve only seen it in paintings and the film, but the First class is restricted. I can see the light shine on our face and it hits me. I have never been here during the daytime before. It’s eerily quiet and it shouldn’t be. I don’t even notice, we’ve climbed the steps.

I can see out the windows to the boat deck. I realize where I am with alarm. We’re standing on the A deck circle of the grand staircase. I am directly under the glass dome. I look up and the dome is shimmering like a chandelier, It’s almost too beautiful to look at. We’re not supposed to be here. I start to notice that there are no other people. I’m asked who is with me and there is no one. This ship has 2200 people on it. Where are they?

I get the feeling that Ida has snuck up here to get a look but she’s not allowed to be in first class. What’s the penalty for being here? April 14th was a Sunday. Maybe they were all in church service. While I again break the rule of no overthinking. I’m brought back when the hypnotist asks what I’m wearing and how old I am. That’s easy. I can see my clothing and I know Ida died at 22 years old.

I’m asked to go forward in life but I am not interested in moving on. This is such a beautiful place, especially during the day. Ida places her right hand on the banister. The wood has been polished to such a degree that it feels like silk, not wood. In a flurry, she hurries down the stairs. Rather than take Scotland Road back to the third class section, she goes down a hallway I’ve never noticed and it leads her back to the common rooms in third class. I can smell tobacco smoke and hear voices. I’m asked to go forward in this life and this time, we don’t resist but there is a feeling of wistfulness that doesn’t belong to me. She really did love that ship.

I came to get more insight into Ida’s life, to get a full record and I cannot do that by staying on Titanic, no matter how lovely it may look. Minus the reeking smell of fresh paint and wood polish.

We are taken back to Finland. I’m on a grassy hill. The air is decently warm but windy. It must be springtime with the array of wildflowers blooming around my feet. My brother and sister are beside me. I am asked my age and I respond 10 years old. I know that the brother and sister beside me are Gustaf and Saida.

Gustaf makes some gestures with his hands and I understand. Our father is about 100 yards or so behind, slowly walking with us and Gustaf is tired of waiting. He wants to go now. Without waiting for me, he takes off downhill and I follow him. I can hear Saida behind us, struggling to keep up. I am asked what I am wearing and I answer it’s a dusty rose dress with no shoes. I’m asked what I look like and though I cannot see my face due to the lack of a mirror. I can however for the first time, see Ida’s hair. It’s not tied back this time, it’s flowing in the breeze as she runs. A lovely shade of honey blonde hair.

My former siblings and I reach the overlook and it’s breathtaking. I know Ida grew up on the Aland Islands but to see the water separating land is different. There are small ships in the harbor. Can it be called a harbor? There’s a little town built around the docks. I am watching the ships come in and the ships leave out. There’s a postal worker down there, tugging bags of mail onto a waiting ship. I get it, Ida is a people watcher. The isolation of Finland makes people fascinating to her. I don’t know why we’re here. There’s nothing to learn here despite Ida’s fascination. Ida’s father grabs her roughly by the hand and jerks her away from the overlooking edge. I get the hint that he’s less than pleased by the running off stunt, but before I can say “Gustaf made me do it”, the regression ends. I am taken to a place outside of time again and I am asked to call forth anyone that I may wish to see.

In my opinion, this is my favorite part because last time I got to see a dearly departed loved one. This time, I am satisfied that my loved one has connected to me in a way that I am able to get over the need to see them. Who do I call for this time? I call for Ida’s parents and siblings but none show up. I’m confused and frustrated. I got less this time than the last. Less information, more questions. Shouldn’t it have worked better this time around? As hard as it is for me to get some time alone in quiet to do these regressions, I cannot afford to get only a little information for all that trouble. It’s too frustrating and depressing for words. Ida’s life, her full face preview, her voice, her full life memories are always out of reach for me. I can see but I cannot touch.

I kick my stubbornness into gear. I am no longer in Ida’s life but I don’t need to be. I am still standing at the beach path which gave me access to Ida’s life. I am not me nor am I her at this point, we are not in a body. An odd quote goes through my mind. “You do not have a soul. You are a soul, you have a body.” We are still tethered together, hypnosis or no. I can see myself formless staring out across the ocean before me. I’m asked what lesson I was to learn at this time. There is no instant answer like before. What was I meant to learn?

I stare at the ocean waves, waxing and waning like the moon. I love the ocean and I hate it. I want to jump in it and I want to run from it. Shouldn’t the Thalassophobia release me now that I have the answer as to why I have it? Or will I always fear the depths that I will never escape even in death? My consciousness dives down to the wreck on the seafloor, scanning for remains that I know are no longer there. A pair of shoes and a locket are what remains of her. She wasn’t wearing a lifebelt so she never surfaced when the bow dragged her down. I know where she would have been when she ship split into two. I have a decent idea where she would have fallen to. What happened after, I can only guess if she deteriorated or was lost to the sealife. I mentally return to the beach, knowing nothing good will come from going “down the rabbit hole”.

I can’t quite explain the wistful, longingness I have to remove her from the wreck. Granted, it’s a century or so late for that. Perhaps, it’s a cultural thing where I just believe the worst place to have a body buried is nowhere at all. She’s not in Finland with her parents. She’s not in America with her siblings that made the journey. She’s not in Halifax with the rest of the victims that have a death date and number for a headstone. She’s stuck among the wreckage that killed her, cast away, and forgotten.

There is almost a wave of pushing back against that moment of (self?) pity. I’m reminded of the wonder going through our mind as we explored the ship in great detail, marveling at each little thing. The need to sneak up and see the glass dome sparkling in the sun, the deep wistfulness and reluctance to leave when we’re asked to move on. She didn’t want to leave and nearly refused to go. Ida loved Titanic and perhaps unlike me, she doesn’t mind being unable to leave it. I settle on that hopeful thought and return to the present day.

Like before, my body feels like it’s had a nice vacation. I coined a term that my soul has rested. I am not in the bliss that I was during the last regression but it is peace. There’s no ocean of grief to drown me in this time. Only the annoyance of what little I learned and saw.