Another Postcard, Another Dream
Loretta Spiegel and her inexplicable vocation
When Loretta Spiegel contemplated discussing her everyday life patterns, she realised she would immediately be seen as eccentric or worse. Since she had been having her dreams about Jonathan, and the many postcards and letters she was mailing in response to the dreams, she recognised how extraordinary it was. She had lost count of how many letters she had sent and she was ever more reluctant to tell anyone what was happening to her.
I chose her for many of the same reasons that I had chosen Derrick or Nigel Fox, or Dr Carmichael’s mother in Wisconsin, because given my extraordinary abilities, I needed agents to enable the interventions I had planned. I could see the joy it brought into the lives of my many messengers, like Michael Bouvier, or Robert Townsend, as they went about their appointed tasks. But I also knew that there were others, like myself, who were attempting to breach my defences and discover my plans. When I discovered I could somehow transcend space and time, it opened whole new horizons for my interventions. I knew I could not have done any of it without Loretta, whose surname Spiegel, Mirror, I saw as a symbol of my mirror into my universe.
I had not chosen the name Omega for my movement, that name had been sprouted by some of my first contacts, but could see in the name that it was going to some endpoint and I hoped that endpoint was a better world. In this world, hope, joy and connections were finally facilitated.
Loretta, every morning after one of my dream visitations, would patiently create the postcards and letters that made my interventions possible. I could see the joy in her heart whenever she dropped the cards into the mailboxes, and even though she couldn’t see 5e outcome of it all, she sensed that she was doing something important, and periodically, I would provide her glimpses of the good work she was doing. She had experienced her undeserved share of tragedy and I wanted to bring joy back into her life. I knew one day I could demonstrate to her the vast network of compassion her good work had facilitated.
Loretta, given the deaths of her parents, the death of her husband, and having been unable to have children, had always struggled with sadness. I hoped in my limited way to bring joy back into her life, to give her a purpose and mission!
That day, July 2, 2001, she woke up in the morning, wrote down what I told her in a dream, and sent another postcard to another one of my emissaries, David Parkinson to another errand of mercy into the wilderness.
David Parkinson was 23 years old and a graduate student at the University of Chicago in finance. He had been raised in the suburbs of Chicago by John and Francis Parkinson. His father was an Engineer for Chicago Transit and his mother was a botanist who worked for the Chicago Horticultural Society. She took care of the gardens of One of the nation’s most pre-eminent centres of learning and scientific research. David has spent his entire young life around flowers, and like me, he drew pictures.
His family also had a connection directly to Thomas Jacobson, and in the intricately interconnected web that bound so many of my special people together, Nexus points were abundant between them and the others in my multi-storied life. Among the many pictures on the walls of my room in White Plains, was a picture of the Chicago Gardens, with a small kneeling image of David’s mother, tending her plants. I knew my father Peter was perplexed by all the drawings, but one day I hoped to reveal more to him, as much as he could bear.
The task I had assigned to David was a simple one, a postcard and a letter to be delivered to Mary Alice Henderson, a nurse at Chicago General Hospital for an errand to the outer edges of Chicago to a young single mother named Maria, with an autistic child named Marcus, eight years old, and mute like myself, with a check for a much needed thousand dollars and a referral to another doctor like Dr Carmichsel who was having breakthroughs with autistic boys. It was often with these smaller interventions that I, Jonathan, experienced the greatest joy! I was grateful that I had found people like David, who were willing to do my work and become my hands and feet.
When David received the postcard, a few days later he showed up unannounced at Maria and Marcus’s apartment with the 1000 dollar check and the name of Dr Richard Michelson, a neurologist, for a consult. Like most of my errands, David would not see the outcome. I had structured it this way to protect all of them, so that those seeking to find me, would not find them!