Make IT Real! by Sander R.B.E. Beals (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

Pun intended of course: Mission Impossible is just one of the infinite hints that point towards this mechanism. The hints are spread out across the entire being of the Cosmos, available holographically in literally every little blade of grass, every behavior of every inanimate object. As the apple hit Newton, or was eaten by Eve, it was there only to present the Choice: “Do you, don't you, or would you rather do something else entirely?”

And then, as Reality starts to change around you, you will become aware of both the causes and effects of your choice, all mingled into your One experience. With time being the illusion it is, preferences and consequences blur into one whole set of aspects of your creation. The next choice you make based on this humongous set of Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking is just that: Your choice! And yep, you got it: Rogers Waters gave yet another clue.....

I'm stumped here: I want to add this one last image, to show you the Intricately Interconnected Intelligence at work here. Better get to my intuition first, to find the central theme.

And it worked! Just as soon as I leaned back wanting to intuit my next move, Val started lamenting the fact that she too couldn't come up with a plausible story line for her first real novel, just like her dad did this time. Chatting about it much like Selina and me do in my novel, we soon came to the conclusion that hers will probably be playing around the fall of Lemuria and Atlantis, and the events leading up to it. With her desire for inspiration fulfilled, my feelings also got better, because this in effect shows how the Cosmos works: if you ask for something, you often get the kind invitation to first fulfill a similar desire in someone else. Joyfully giving in to that request is one of the myriad ways of clearing the way for your own fulfillment. But don't see this as a restricted exchange, a tit for tat!

Because that it certainly isn't! You can if you feel like it, simply decline the option to go help others in the meantime, and it won't have any bearing on the eventual granting of your wish. It's just the system giving you an option to be joyfully engaged in the meantime. If you've got other plans, by all means execute them!

And don't worry about missing the eventual arrival of your present. Because Now equals Present, so you'll not miss it, no matter what!

Friday, November 11th, 2011, 22:22

She's sleeping now, but what a day it was! The kids went home around six, and while I was cleaning up the mess, the door bell rang. “Must be one of them, forgot something no doubt!” I swing open the door, and am speechless for the next few seconds: there she is, dark-haired, very beautiful, but also very, very pregnant! Selina has arrived, come back to me all by herself without any prompting or seducing from my side!

At that very moment, I know this is the moment that defines me, and her. I've found my twin flame, and nothing will be able to keep us apart from now on.

She holds up the novel, and laughs at me: “Sander? How on earth did you think up that name?” I explain to her that I needed some shelter from my colleagues at least until the novel starts selling, and she came back to me. Otherwise it would just have been the ravings of a madman, and I didn't want to be considered that. Also, I didn't quite want them to think badly of her, and we both knew there would be those who did....

I invite her in, and usher her into the living room, and onto the couch. When I make a move to sit on the other couch, she beckons me with her index finger: “No no, right here, next to me please. I need a hug!” I sit down, and carefully hug her to bits. “How long?” I ask. Selina rubs her hand slowly over her bulging tummy, and tells me they are due in about thirteen weeks. Talk about a surprise!

It is quickly determined that she needs shelter, since her husband has figured out that his wife had been more generous with her beauty than he can stomach. In fact, indirectly I had been the culprit that gave it away, but Selina had been careless by letting my novel lie around, in a place where he had easy access to it. Had he found it anyplace else, then she could have easily denied being the girl in the story. But stashed away in her night stand it was a disaster waiting to happen.....

“Well, no use crying over spilled milk”, I comfort her: “You probably already gathered that you are wanted here more than is humanly possible!” We hug again, and engage in the very first real kiss we share in this incarnation. It seemed to last forever, and had me thinking of all the other ones that were yet to come...

Being the perfect gentleman, I show her the bedroom I'd set up in the attic, when I still thought Russian Liliya was going to come here. After that deal fell through, I just knew that I hadn't decorated that room for nothing: some worthy cause would arise. And so it did: Selina loves the idea of separate beds for now, not that she minds being with me, but her increased size prohibits the both of us sharing a single bed, and I don't have a double one yet.

Since she is exhausted from the journey here, I put her to bed, and sit beside her on the floor, to chat some more. She tells me more about her time in America, modeling that beautiful body of hers to some friends. She had been promised those photos would never make it to Holland, but of course no one can guarantee that once they are on the web. A dutch link site found them, and the rest is history.

By midnight she dozes off. I kiss her gently, but she doesn't move. Being way too hyped to ever sleep tonight, I go down to write this bit down, and count my blessings.

What do I think of the love of my life being pregnant by someone else? Well, I always said I wanted at least two more kids, and it seems I got my wish, just like Robert told me all these years ago. He was a remarkable character: claimed to live like a hobo, but had been quite well off. Used the web whenever other people allowed him to use their computers, but could get any site in the top of Google's search results for whatever keywords required. Being psychic, he told me and Joyce that there would be two more kids, which he called the Righteous Twins. Would the occupants of my lovely new lady be those twins? Or would the Cosmos have still more unexpected surprises for us?

Sure I'd love them, regardless of who the father was. Notwithstanding the fact that I would have loved to be the cause of this pregnancy, I cannot blame a tiny baby for being fathered by another. If he had reasons to let Selina go, then I could easily waltz in as the new daddy, and pick it up where he left off. His loss, my win....

Would I keep the kids from knowing their true heritage? Certainly not! True love does not restrict, but leaves one free to go wherever he or she pleases. Certainly, had the roles been reversed, I'd want to know myself too.

“Sander! Get up here!” I'm up like I'm stung by a bee, and bounce up the stairs two steps at a time! Swipe the curtain aside, and land right next to my love by the bed: “What's the panic?” I say. “Dunno, but there's something wrong!”. I race down again, and out the door to the neighbors, because they have a car. Their son will drive us to the hospital, and warms up the engine while I again bounce up the stairs to get Selina. She has used the time wisely to get dressed, in a wide dress, completed by her black ladies boots.

“Can you walk?” I ask. “Don't think so, at least not the stairs”, she answers. I stand to the left of her, to position her to be carried, not over the threshold, but down two flights of stairs. The threshold will no doubt come later, but is of no importance in this very moment. She weighs about sixty kilograms, even fully loaded, so no problem there. Together we descend the stairs, and go out the door to the waiting vehicle. Our driver awaits, and helps me to let Selina lie down on the back seat. Then we hop into the front, and drive the short distance to the newly built hospital.

Arriving there, Selina abruptly refuses a cart, preferring to be carried again. Her arms around my neck are oddly familiar, just like all these words I have been writing in this novel. It is as if I do not invent the words, but merely type them up from memory, a memory far deeper than my mere mind.

I finally put my love on the bed that the nurse points out to us, and we wait for the doctor. “I'm afraid, they feel so wrong”, my beauty says, and the fear radiates from her face. The nurse hooks up a heart rate monitor, or at least tries to. But despite the fact there should be two tiny heartbeats, she finds none.

That moment the doctor comes in, and by his cool and collected appearance he succeeds in calming down Selina. He listens for the boys with his stethoscope, after breathing on it to take away the initial chill. But that ritual can't take away the chill of not being able to pick up a single heartbeat. “I have sad news for the both of you”, he says: “It looks like both kids have given up within arms length of the finish line”. I am glad I am close to Selina at that moment, because she really needs to have me close. I hold her sobbing body against mine, and stroke her dark hair. I myself am somewhat of a stoic, I don't easily show sadness. But I feel it all the same, especially now I'd just gotten used to becoming a daddy again, even if it was at the hands of another man...

The doctor proceeds to tell us he will have to do a C-section, because dead babies tend to diminish the mother's willingness to go through normal childbirth. Luckily, enough personnel is already on call to assist in the operation, which is carried out immediately.

“You should be trying to get some sleep”, the nurse tells me: “Unfortunately, we have no spare bed at the moment, so you'll have to sleep on one of the waiting room couches.” She gives me a blanket and a pillow, so as to make me experience some comfort at least, and I go and find myself a nice place to crash.

I find a couch opposite the indoor pond, where the Koys are swimming, and where the fountain spreads its restful splashing.

I lie awake thinking about numerous things, like for instance Faithless and his track called Insomnia. Remembering it is still on my smart phone, I pull out the headset, and listen to it. It meanders into God is a DJ, which I don't get to finish, because my eyelids decide to go bye-bye....

My next memories are so weird I don't even know if they're past, present, fantasy or just a dream: I'm in my backyard, but instead of the mess of concrete tiles it currently is, it's a well-tended garden, with plenty of grass for the girls to play on: and that they do, both the spitting image of