When I was in the early years of elementary school,
there was a time when I often went to a public bathhouse on our street.
I would go with my mother or grandmother, and on the way home,
I would leave a little earlier and walk home by myself.
One day, as I was walking home from the bathhouse as usual,
I happened to look up at the sky.
And there, floating above me, was a car made entirely of points of light.
It was an old-fashioned-looking car with large wheels.
The closest image I can think of today would be something like a drone light show, where lights come together to create the shape of an object in the sky.
I was surprised when I first saw it.
But somehow, I immediately knew:
“They’re my companions.”
For some reason, I felt an incredible sense of familiarity.
I also somehow understood that they had appeared in the shape of a car so that I would recognize it as a vehicle.
And I knew, too, that they had always been watching over me.
My mind was calm, but somewhere inside, I felt excited.
It was as though my awareness was expanding, and I was on the verge of remembering something I had forgotten.
Looking back, I feel that their appearing to me in this way was part of helping me adjust to the vibrations of Earth, so that I could live my life here.
And then, more than 25 years later, something completely unexpected happened—something that would connect me to this childhood experience once again.
Life is truly mysterious.
The things we really need never simply disappear through “missing them” or “not noticing.”
Nothing is overlooked.
Every moment is exactly as it needs to be, intricately woven into the whole.
It is almost as if life itself were a movie—
and every scene was already perfectly placed.