“Now that the first draft is wrapping up, do you have all your editors ready for revisions?” Neil asked me.

“Editors? Revisions? No, not really. I mean, I was going to skim over it one time just to make sure I got all the typos.”

I could tell from the look on Neil’s face that my answer was far from the correct one, so I started fishing a little.

“Do you think, maybe, you might know an editor who would read The Gift of Samuel? Is that something you would do? How many editors do I need anyway?”

As always, Neil stayed cool and assisted me through my naïveté.

“I’ll edit your first draft, no problem; it would be my honor. Then you’re going to need fresh sets of eyes for further edits, at least ten of them, but the more, the better.”

You can imagine my shock when I realized I was going from one skim revision looking for typos to at least ten outside editors. I tried not to think about the anxiety of ten outside editors and concentrated on finishing up the first draft so Neil could be my first editor. On the very night before sending Neil a hardcopy draft, I had another vivid dream of Samuel that altered the story.

In my dream, I was walking with Samuel in this gargantuan warehouse, with all kinds of props and structures scattered around inside it. The warehouse was half indoor, half outdoor, like an open hanger. I’ve never been to a movie set before, but from my limited understanding, this was definitely a movie set. Without any words being exchanged, I suddenly knew that Samuel and I were scouting a location for The Gift of Samuel streaming series.
We walked up to the prop home belonging to Lorrick and Miriam on Elders Row and I could see the three red circles next to the front door.

“What’s up with the red circles?” I asked Samuel

“Joshua is going to need more reason to leave Caulfield. What you have so far isn’t enough. You need to incorporate this into the story.”

As I stood there looking at the house prop and the three red circles, in my mind’s eye it was explained to me how the law the red circles would be added to the story. It was as if the information was downloaded into my conscious and I was instantly aware of this major part of the story that needed to be included in the first draft.

As soon as I woke up, the first thing I did was text Neil, letting him know that the draft hard copy would not be coming in the mail that day as I needed to add something from a dream that I had that night.

Once I incorporated the Law of the Red Circles into the story, I sealed the package containing the first draft and sent it to my friend. He was going to be the first person outside of myself to read The Gift of Samuel. I felt so scared, so vulnerable, sending the story to Neil, but I knew he wouldn’t let me down. I knew Neil would go the extra mile to pull out the good stuff from the otherwise terrible first draft and encourage me to keep working at it. More than that, I knew the story was complete, now that the Law that Red Circles was part of it.

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As I gazed, I understand that Samuel was one of the moons. He was the largest moon of the group in the sky. And his importance could not be understated. He, as that moon, was a symbol of unconditional love, forgiveness, kindness, joy and generosity. He was a noble and strong leader and I looked to him for inspiration and support.

Next to him, also in the sky, I could see a timeline of his life, from his birth to his death. In the timeline, there were various events that took place. As I looked over these events, I noticed that his death would come at a time much too soon for his age. He was going to die in his mid to late 20s and he would not live to see or experience the gift of growing old and living a long life.

My heart sunk, and I was desperate to save him. I reasoned that if I was able to see the timeline of his life, with various junctures and events that would lead, one after the other, to his eventual death, perhaps I could change some of those events. Perhaps I could make it so that I would be able to save him and avoid his untimely passing.

Accordingly, I got work. Simply with the with the power of thought, I was able to maneuver events in his life, trying to find the right combination so that Samuel’s death at such a young age would be avoided. I rearranged the outline in the sky and would re-work it out, over and over. Each time, no matter what I did, Samuel would die at that same age and point. I don’t know how many times I did this, but it felt like hundreds, if not thousands. Despite my efforts and my burning desire to save him, his young and untimely death was inevitable.

I eventually gave up, accepting that he was going to die at that point, but still carrying a great amount of sadness, wishing that he would live longer.

Here, I would be remiss to not mention the story of Macbeth. When I awoke from the dream, I instantly thought of this work by Shakespeare. I thought of the prophecy from the witches of Macbeth’s death and the various events that would lead up to his death, and how he was sure they could not happen. Or, how we would do whatever he could to make sure that they wouldn’t happen. And yet, they happened. There was nothing anyone could have done to avoid what was meant to be.

The post Trying to Save Samuel. appeared first on The Gift Of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

Specifically, what happened in the scenario, itself, was pretty terrifying. I was the leader of a small band of people, maybe a dozen, trying to survive during Grey Dawn. We were all dirty, tired, starving, and scared. We were on the move, being chased by what you could call a monster, even though it really wasn’t a monster. It was a man, but he was bigger than most men, his muscles were bulging, he had sharp teeth like a dog or a wolf. That said, nothing compared to the aura of aggression that he exhibited. He was a terror to see and even a greater terror to face (This man eventually inspired the character of Leon in The Gift of Samuel.).

I was leading these people away from Leon, trying to hide from him. Despite my efforts, he eventually caught us. He growled at us, demanding that the leader step forward. I reluctantly took a step and he pulled something out from behind him and put it in front of me in his hand. It was some type of fruit, maybe an apple or something that I could take a bite of directly where I could eat the skin.

He demanded in his deep and rasping voice that I take a bite of the fruit to taste it. I looked around to the others and they only offered blank stares. They gave me no advice and no inkling as to what I should do. Terrified of what he would do if I disobeyed him, I took a bite.

Once I chewed and swallowed the bite, Leon became enraged. He chastised me for not being strong enough to defy him. He threw me down to the ground and began to obliterate me. At that point, I came out of my body and witnessed the beating as if I was an outside spectator, but I was definitely looking at myself. Leon beat me with his large fists and bite at me with his sharp teeth, while the others stood in horror, wondering if they were next.

Suddenly, I left the scene, and was with Samuel, where the two of discussed what did I do wrong. I was too afraid. I needed to be courageous. Suddenly, boom, I’m back in the scene, standing in front of Leon, with him demanding that I take a bite of this fruit to taste it. Again, I looked to the ones behind me, who gave no direction. I remembered what happened the first time and to be courageous, so this time, I refused to take a bite, but I’m still terrified.

As soon as I refused, he threw the fruit to the side and yelled at me, chastising me for daring to disobey him. Again, he threw me down, again, I snapped out of my body, and again I watched from an outside perspective as he beat me to death.

Again, I left the scene and was joined by Samuel where we discussed how I could have done something differently to avoid the brutal outcome. Now, I was frustrated. “I do what he tells me, he kills me,” I protested. “I get up to nerve to refuse to do what he tells me, he kills me. It’s a no-win situation.”

Samuel, in his usual calm and insightful nature, encouraged me to think outside of just those two possibilities. “He’s demanding for your take a bite to taste it,” Samuel said. “Is either taking a bite or not really the only two options you have?”

Boom, I’m back in my body in front of Leon who is demanding that I take a bite of this fruit to taste it. I know what options one and two lead to, and I don’t want to die. I can feel Samuel encouraging me to be strong, to think outside the box.

In that moment I felt the fear leave me, even though this man was three times my size and I had already twice witnessed him bludgeon me to death. I took the fruit out of his hand, and I told him, “You want to know what thing tastes like so bad, why don’t you eat it.” and I shoved the fruit in his mouth.

I watched in disbelief as Leon has an allergic reaction to the fruit and begins to choke to death from his tongue and throat swelling. Finally, he toppled over with a loud thud, dead, with me and my people saved.

The post Thinking Outside The Box appeared first on The Gift Of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

I dream of that apartment, St. Clement School, and that alley t-intersection often. However, no dream of that environment was as vivid as the dream I had of meeting Samuel in that t-intersection. The dream began from the second floor of that two-flat that I called home for the first fourteen years of my life.

I was up in my bedroom, getting ready for school. I was late and it was pouring rain outside. I left my room which was adjoined to the dining room, where I looked outside the soaked and blurred window to see the grey sky above. The lightning flashes and thunder roars were sporadic, but intense. Good thing I could leave through the back door that opened to the alley. In less than sixty seconds I would be at St. Clement’s front door.

I walked out of the kitchen, onto the enclosed back porch and down the back stairwell. I could feel the cold and could hear the rain drops pounding on the roof and windows. I walked past the open door on the first floor. It was the apartment of my landlady, Anna Amstedt. She was like a second grandmother to me. I could see down the length of her apartment, but she wasn’t there. She normally wouldn’t leave her back door open like that, giving me an ominous feeling.

I opened the door to the alley, pulled the waterproof hoody over my head, and stepped out into the rain. The alley was full of puddles everywhere and the sprinkles of water against my face were frigid. I shut the door behind me and made my way quickly toward Orchard Street and my school.

As I approached the intersecting alley, there were four people just standing there, waiting for me. One of them as Samuel. I could tell by his unmistakable aura and his smile. Even in the pouring rain, he emitted light. The other three were females that I didn’t recognize.

Without saying a word, Samuel began conveying information to me, telepathically. The three young women were sisters. They all seemed friendly, excited to meet me, again, without any spoken word; it was just known to me. The oldest of the sisters was strong, fearless, and a protector of the other two. The youngest seemed shy and quiet.

Samuel explained to me through my mind that he was in love with the oldest sister, and she was in love with him. They longed to be together, but it was impossible, as it was determined that she would be passing on shortly; she was going to die. The same fate was true for the middle sister. They were both going to die, together. The youngest sister, again the shiest of the three, was going to continue living in this life, for now.

There was no sadness relating to the passing of the two older sisters. It was more a feeling of regret that Samuel and the older sister would not get to have this life together. I telepathically asked them if it was possible for the older sister to live. Samuel allowed me to see that it was possible, but when both scenarios were played it, it was for the best that she “pass on” at the time and place that they had decided, which was near.

Samuel continued, informing me that once the two older sisters were gone, that the remaining sister was going to become pregnant by another man who had questionable motives. While Samuel was not the biological father, he felt a strong obligation to the child and the mother because of the great love he had for the oldest, soon-to-be-deceased sister. Therefore, Samuel vowed that he would protect that child and mother and raise the child as if he were the father.

I could feel Samuel’s dedication to the three women and to the unborn child. He was going to whatever it took to assure their safety. He was a hero in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to be like Samuel.

With that, I was awoken from my sleep and it was time to add another entry into my dream journal.

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Every time I saw him in my dreams, I instantly recognized him, and woke up thinking of our first introduction, his brutal fight with Seth, and the image of the flower coming back to life, with the chorus of angels singing in the background. He was hanging around enough to keep the journal going and, obviously, I needed to give him a name. Despite the intensity of those first dreams, and his regular appearances thereafter, he never shared his name.

Thus, I began thumbing through boy names online to discover their meanings, as I wanted to give him a name that meant something to me and wasn’t just a name that sounded cool. I soon discovered that checking for name meanings online was frustrating as it’s rare to find two different websites giving you the same meaning for the same name. When I came across the name Samuel, I loved the meaning behind the name, and, best of all, there was agreement online on the name meaning. The name Samuel means “God has heard.”

The idea of God hearing us and hearing our prayers has innately been with me since I can remember. While I have never officially been designated to one specific religious sect, I’ve always had a spiritual mindset, believing that there is something greater than the material world and our five senses. I have no objective reason for this belief. It was just how I came into this world. I was also fortunate enough, at a young age, to be exposed to different world religions and the spiritual concepts at their foundations.

Even though I was not Catholic, I grew up going to a small Catholic elementary school, finding solace in the stories of Jesus. My parents divorced when I was very young, and when I was nine years old, my father began dating a Jewish woman. She eventually became my stepmother and my father converted to Judaism, giving me my first true exposure to a religion outside of Christianity. As a teenager, I attended a Jesuit high school where four years of religious study was required, one of those years being the study of world religions. Finally, in college, I took another course in world religious studies where I was introduced to The World’s Religions by Huston Smith and Black Elk Speaks by John Neihardt.

As I met different people, from different religious backgrounds, while studying the various world’s religions, I couldn’t help but wonder which of these religions was the “correct” religion. Fortunately, actions speak louder than words, and while I was meeting these people, I became more focused on the human interaction I experienced versus the religious rule. I was less interested in what I was supposed to believe and more interested in how I felt.

When I was first introduced into my stepmother’s Jewish family, I was immediately greeted with open arms by everyone in her family. On the surface, I was so different from them, but I soon realized that it didn’t matter. They included me in everything and made me feel like part of the family. Not only did I see the love between them, but I experienced it and, moreover, was a part of it. It didn’t matter that they were Jewish while I was “some-sort-of-Christian.” At least, it didn’t matter to me.

The more I came to experience kindness from people of various religions, the more I realized that the only thing that really mattered was love. Furthermore, when you study these religions, at their core, there is one principle that stands out above all others: the golden rule. They all teach, one way or another, that you should treat others the way you want to be treated. For me, treating others with love and kindness, regardless of what religion they practice, became imperative.

Given my dreams of this man, who preached that we are all from the same light and implored on me to forgive even when forgiveness was not being asked, Samuel, or “God has heard,” seemed like the perfect name. Thus, Samuel and I had established our friendship and the stage was set for the next round of dreams and life experiences that would ultimately result in The Gift of Samuel.

The post Naming My Friend appeared first on The Gift Of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

As he sat across from me, I was transfixed by Samuel’s aurora once again. His glow was the same as the first time I saw him. His eyes and his smile were the focal points of comfort and acceptance. He radiated a sense of unconditional friendship. Even though it was only the second time I recall being in his presence, I felt like I had known him my entire life and could go to him with any problem, any concern, and he would do whatever it took to ease my troubles.

Samuel told me that everything was ok and that I didn’t need to apologize for the previous night. Instead of voicing anger and blame towards Seth, Samuel expressed concern. He explained that Seth was just confused, misguided, and did not realize the severity of his actions. Samuel reminded me that we all from the light and we have a choice in life: to embrace the light or reject it. Samuel explained that part of embracing the light meant to forgive even when forgiveness was not requested.

Then Samuel told me he wanted to show me something. We walked outside of the home to a car unlike any that I had ever seen. It was an SUV with special modifications just for Samuel. The outside of the car was covered with armor, while the inside had buttons, dials and monitors in every direction. Inspecting the driver’s seat, I could tell that the vehicle had a manual transmission, but the clutch, brake and gas pedal were specifically altered to fit Samuel’s bowed legs. There were also several levers and bottoms that occupied the roof over Samuel’s head. It was one of the coolest things that I had ever seen.

Samuel drove as I watched in amazement at the easy in which he operated this vehicle. As we moved along the many people and buildings that we passed, the mood had shifted. Instead of discussing the heavy, spiritual points of forgiveness and embracing the light, we were now laughing and joyous. Samuel pointed out various buildings and mentioned specific people by name, all of which were great benefits to the community. He convinced me that I was exactly where I needed to be and that my stay was going to be life altering.

We turned down a dirt road that approached the front of a massive, four-story building. Samuel pushed a button above him and a garage door directly in front of us began to rise. Samuel pulled into the garage, and we got out of the car. The inside of the garage was strewn with mechanical parts and tools. Samuel was definitely a gear head. We left the garage and walked further towards the inside of this massive building, eventually finding the stairs and walked up to the top floor.

We came into a room with a large window where one could see the whole of the community below. In the middle of the room was a round, wooden table. Atop the table, in a pot at the center, was a single, yellow flower that was wilted and dying. I walked up to the window and, with my nose just inches from the glass, staired out at the wonder of the people and actively below. It was an incredible view.

I could feel Samuel’s presence behind me as I gazed out the window. His voice, soothing and reassuring, instructed me to turn around. I turned my head, and, in that instant, my soul was lifted out of my body. I could see the entire room, as if my eyesight was 360 degrees in scope. The wilted and dying floor in the center of the room began coming back to life. Its stem lifted from its drooped position and the pedals became unwrinkled, growing and emitting a bright, neon yellow.

As the flower came back to life, I knew it was Samuel causing this to happen. I could see the aura pulsating around him, joining with the essence of the flower. His eyes were closed in deep mediation. At the same time, I could hear a choir of angels singing. A thousand voices harmonized, praising the wonder of life, and rejoicing with the arrival of the rejuvenated flower.

With a startle, I was awoken and sat straight up in my bed, with the melody from the chorus on angels still echoing in my mind. The dream was so powerful, I found my laptop and began journaling, making sure to start from the previous evening’s visions experienced while I slept. I had no idea I was planting the seed for The Gift of Samuel, with many more dreams of my friend on the horizon.

The post Witnessing The Gift of Samuel appeared first on The Gift Of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

As we turned the corner, someone in even more pain was lying on the ground. They were covered with a blanket from the waist up. Next to the blanket was a basket. The basket was empty, but the implication was there, calling out, “please help me.” This person under the blanket was moaning and his legs we’re moving slowly trying to comfort his soul.

And the legs were…. deformed. Not only were they bowlegged, but there was something wrong with them that was more severe. It was some type of disease. I was sure this person was dying. It was while I was taking in the legs and their grotesque nature that everything went black.

Suddenly I’m in the kitchen with several other people. Their faces are dirty too, but their expressions are light and inviting. I can smell the spices of the food that’s cooking and the anticipation of the meal we are about to enjoy and he’s got my mouth salivating. Sitting next to me a beautiful girl. This situation was getting better by the minute.

As we all prepare the table, a young man enters the room and instantly I’m drawn to him. It’s as if he glows. Like the pain and suffering that I had seen on the street just moments ago couldn’t touch him. He was smiling and gave off an aura of acceptance and genuine friendship.

I wasn’t the only one that was drawn to him. Everyone else was excited to see him. Everyone was happy. From the vantage point where I was sitting, I could only see him from the waist up. As he rounded the corner to shake my hand, that’s the first time that I saw his legs and realized this was the man that was out on the street covered with a blanket laying on the ground.

But it couldn’t be. That man was moaning in pain. He was dying. This man I was meeting, he was alive, vibrant. But his legs didn’t lie. This was definitely the same man from before.

We sat down to eat, and before I could even get in the first spoonful, there’s a bang at the door. Everyone is instantly on high alert. The bang comes again, louder. Someone gets up and walks to the door in a manner like their bodies made of cement.

When the door opens, four men walk in, led by the antithesis of the glowing man that I had just met. This other man was dark. Aggressive. Arrogant. But strong as an ox. His arms and neck are pure muscle.

He begins pushing people around with his demands. Everyone’s on eggshells. Then he turns to the attractive girl next to me and starts giving her a really hard time. Without even thinking, or maybe thinking about impressing the pretty girl, I decide I’m going to get up and I’m going to put this guy in his place. As soon as I got in his face, I realized I was no match for this man. He was going to destroy me. More than that, he was going to enjoy destroying me. All he needed was an excuse to fight and he would relish in the opportunity.

He brings his fist back, ready to throw the first blow, and as a stand there frozen, waiting to take it, the punch is caught by the glowing man’s hand. The glowing man pushes me aside and he and the evil men begin to fight. Each are throwing blows, landing some. The glowing man is just as strong as the dark one. They are both impressive, but I’m more impressed with the glowing man being just as strong as the other, without all the muscles. That is until the dark one goes for the legs, and the glowing man tumbles like a pile of bricks.

The dark man gets on top of the glowing man, now laying on the ground, and the dark men raises his fist, ready to rain punches down unto the glowing man’s face. As he releases the first blow, I wake up with a startle.

My heart’s pounding and I cannot get any of it out of my head. I look at the clock and curse at myself, thinking how I have to get up in just a few hours and go to my property law class. I tried going back to sleep, thinking of the glowing man, wondering if I’d ever see him again. I had no idea it was the first of many dreams with Samuel, and the next one, even more grabbing, would be the very next night…

The post The Glowing Man appeared first on The Gift Of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

I was the exact opposite of those things. I had average intelligence, at best, and I was a procrastinator, unmotivated and apprehensive. Making matters worse, my verbal and writing skills were below average. I failed spelling in the seventh grade for a reason. I got a 340 on the verbal portion of the SAT for a reason. I failed out of college for a reason. Surely the law school’s admissions office made a mistake when they accepted my application. I should have told them to double check. No, that’s not it. I should have never applied in the first place.

The law school route was just a way for me to avoid growing up. I was good at being a slightly above average college student. So good, in fact, I stayed an extra fifth year, a.k.a. a “super senior” year. Party lots, study little. The thought of leaving school to join the professional world sent shivers through me. I couldn’t work a real job, forty or more hours a week. I could only handle part time jobs, so I had enough time and money for beer and weed. Never mind that I had zero interest in being a lawyer and that law school would put me seventy-five grand in debt. Never mind that when law school was over, I’d have to find a job as a lawyer. I ignored it all because law school was a temporary fix; it would add three years to the lifestyle I was accustomed to.

Besides, I was never going to find a job with a bachelor’s degree in Philosophy and Speech Communication. I was in a tricky situation. College degree in hand, I either had to find a job or go through further education in a subject that was acceptable to my father and his expectations: law school or medical school. I couldn’t get a master’s degree in Philosophy or Speech Communication. That wasn’t an option. I didn’t take the undergrad classes necessary for medical school, and I couldn’t stomach the sight of blood and guts anyways. Law school was the only logical answer, as illogical as it was.

Back in the auditorium with the other first year law students, the dean of the school spoke about what a wonderful institution we were about to call home. Not me. This place wasn’t going to be my home. This place was a ticket to another three years of avoiding adulthood. I looked around at the other two hundred individuals surrounding me and I knew the dean was talking to them. I didn’t know a single student in that building. Still, I was sure they were in law school for the right reasons. They weren’t avoiding life, like me. They were there because they were going to amount to something. They were smart, motivated, and assured. They were going to be big time lawyers. I was just delaying the inevitable and taking on a ton of debt in the process.

That night, as I sat on the train headed home, I went over the problem once again in my head only to arrive at the same conclusion. Fear of adulthood overpowered the reality that I was taking on seventy-five thousand dollars in student loans to embark on a profession I had no interest in pursuing, because it gave me three more years of play and solved the parent “what are you doing with your life” problem.

It wasn’t long before I discovered that law school didn’t allow the free time and leniency I had enjoyed with undergrad. Don’t get me wrong, I still partied as hard and as often as possible. But if I failed out, I would be in an even worse position. I wouldn’t be able to get back into school, like I did with college. I had to, at least, pass my classes. There was no way I was going to do as well as the others, but I had to keep pace.

This realization amounted to daily building blocks of stress that gathered in my heart and on my shoulders. As I struggled to keep up, it served as a perfect reminder that I was not supposed to be in law school. Other students would answer questions and participate in classes to a degree that far surpassed me. I was dumb. They were smart.

The pressure and anxiety mounted to the point where I began to experience recurring dreams that were so disturbing, so vivid, and so relentless, that I thought I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Of these dreams, none were as striking and intense as the very first dream that I had of a man that I would soon come to know as Samuel.

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