Shambhala Read online

  Shambhala: Messages Across Time

  Marta Martín Girón

  Translated by Elizabeth Galbreath

  “Shambhala: Messages Across Time”

  Written By Marta Martín Girón

  Copyright © 2018 Marta Martín Girón

  All rights reserved

  Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

  www.babelcube.com

  Translated by Elizabeth Galbreath

  “Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

  SHAMBHALA

  © All rights reserved.

  The total or partial reproduction of this work, or its incorporation to an information system or its transmission in any form or by any medium, whether electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or other methods, without the previous written permission of the author, is prohibited. The infringement of the aforementioned rights may constitute an offense against intellectual property. (Art. 270 and following of the Penal Code.)

  Title: Shambhala. Messages Across Time.

  © Marta Martín Girón

  Editing and layout: Trabajobbie

  First edition: July 2017

  SHAMBHALA

  Messages Across Time

  MARTA MARTÍN GIRÓN

  To all living beings that inhabit this planet.

  To all life throughout the Universe.

  To our ancestors.

  To our children.

  To Marcos Nieto Pallarés.

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  That voice...

  A Date?

  An Unexpected Experience

  Emotional Roller Coaster

  The Mission

  Getting Some Distance

  Conflicted Feelings

  The Proposal

  Contacted

  The Waited-For Weekend

  Desire

  Discretion

  Oxital

  Contact

  The Road Home

  Sleep

  Messages

  Estir

  Trip to the Gobi Desert

  Invisible hope

  Another Chance

  The Decision

  The Real Message

  The Trip

  Going Home

  The First Expedition

  Trans-Siberian

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Preface

  It had been a long time since I’d had that kind of dream. The lights were defined in the night sky. I was in the middle of a field. I hardly noticed the temperature around me. My senses were focused on the horizon, on the tiny luminous points that flashed in the darkness and on what shone like stars in the middle of the night. On the other hand, something distinguished them from the other celestial bodies. Those brightly shining and provocative twinkles were also moving. They traced a kind of formation, first horizontal and then vertical. All I could do was observe them, without knowing what to think. They were so beautiful they hypnotized me with their dance. I felt calm, peaceful. I was sure they didn’t pose any threat, in fact, quite the contrary. My heart beat peacefully, rejoicing in the full confidence that the capricious and dancing manifestation conveyed—so much so, I wished I could get closer to them. I longed for it. I wanted to initiate contact with this glowing existence. Something inside told me that there was an intelligence controlling them from behind. Something that dominated my emotions, relaxing them, making me feel good, alive, and eager to investigate. My curiosity was interrupted, once again, by suddenly waking up.

  I hadn’t had that kind of a dream in a long time, and yet I remember that for many years of my life, I’d had those dreams. They have never been anything special, but at the same time, something inside always predicted that they meant something. But what? I still don’t know. I don’t know if some day I’ll figure out their meaning, although the desire in my heart is growing.

  When you think about what might happen in your life, you don’t imagine that certain illusions that have been flowing around your head will become reality. You don’t think it is possible because some seem absurd, other harmful ones you wish you’d never imagined, and many are so utopian that they end up being childish.

  What’s disconcerting is when, among all those dreams, certain ones end up becoming real, taking you irremediably to an unbearable pain, or giving way to a pleasant fantasy.

  Chapter 1

  That voice...

  The images in my head went on non-stop, sometimes in flashes, sometimes as if I were in a movie in slow motion with no sound. It couldn’t be real. It was very possible that I was asleep, that I was having one of those strange and unpleasant nightmares that, unfortunately, feel so real at the time. However, my senses were very awake. Although I felt immobile and a little disoriented, everything around me was very vivid—the lights, the smells, the sensation of cold on my skin. I tried to move but I had no strength. In that sense it was like a dream.

  So, is it all a dream illusion, I wondered. If all this confusion and discomfort is due to that, then I have nothing to worry about. Besides, they say that when you see someone die while you’re asleep, you’re giving them more time to live...

  The police and ambulance sirens sounded closer and closer.

  “This dream is very complete!” I thought. I my head and right leg hurt. I’d never felt such a real pain in that state before. My eyes opened and closed slowly. I had the feeling of wanting to sleep forever, although that annoying siren noise prevented that. After a few seconds, that infernal buzz stopped suddenly, leaving behind a sepulchral silence. It was then that I was able to perceive my father’s voice.

  “Aurora, daughter, are you okay?!”

  His voice sounded worried and I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t move. My throat didn’t have enough strength to make any sound. My eyelids felt even heavier than before. I wanted to tell him that we were asleep, not to worry, that in a few hours, maybe minutes, this nightmare would have ended. The two of us would get up at the same time to go to work, we’d get ready and go together for breakfast. I was sure that the alarm clock was about to go off, it would be almost seven and this anguish would very soon become history.

  Suddenly a light breeze touched my face. In that moment, I suddenly smelled the sharp odor of asphalt and something strange...I remembered as a child going to the supermarket with my mother. This smell reminded me of the butcher shop. It gave me a knot in my stomach and I felt nauseous.

  “Meat? Why does it smell like meat?” I thought.

  A hand settled delicately on my shoulder, moving quickly to my neck. The warmth was pleasant, but the movement made me suspect that he was checking my vital signs and that made me uneasy again.

  “She has a pulse,” said someone by my side, in a tone that confirmed my suspicions.

  “The man is conscious. He’s trapped but it appears that he only has a fractured leg,” answered another person a little farther away from me.

  “Bring the stretchers! We need another ambulance and for the fire trucks to get here!” shouted the one who had checked my pulse earlier. His voice sounded nervous, and at the same time, sounded very familiar.

  “Yes, calm down. They’ve called by radio that they’re less than five minutes away. They’ll be here soon,” said a third person firmly. This time it was a woman.

  “Are there other survivors?” asked another man.

  “No, only the man and the girl,” the woman answered. Her words definitely expressed a lot of self-control. “I found the driver in the other car, and I’m afraid he didn’t survive, either.”

  At that moment, I realized that this couldn’t be a dream, this was really happening.

  “What happened?” I asked myself uselessly. My head couldn’t r
emember anything.

  Suddenly, my father came to mind, asking me if I was okay. Certainly, the little bit I could ascertain indicated that we were on the road, so it was very likely that we had an accident. But for some strange reason, my memory was cloudy. I didn’t even remember who was in the automobile. Maybe I wasn’t alone with my father? Who were these people talking about? Why couldn’t I remember what happened?

  A new siren sound began to echo in the distance. This time they sounded different from the first, louder and more strident.

  “The firefighters are finally here!” exclaimed the woman, relieved.

  “Finally, it’s about time!” The man’s tone continued to sound very familiar. He sounded young and beautiful but seemed very tense.

  “The other ambulance is still five minutes away,” she clarified. “We’ll have to hold on until then.”

  But that didn’t make me forget what I had heard: “He didn’t survive, either.” Who were they referring to who ‘didn’t make it, either’? That ‘either’ meant that there was more than one dead. Thinking about it made my heart race. I felt like crying, I was scared and at the same time, I felt so weak. I couldn’t move, not even to open my eyes or give the smallest signal so they wouldn’t worry about me. I wanted to wake up, get out of that nightmare.

  “The traffic officers have just arrived,” the other man reported. He seemed older, about fifty years old. I don’t know why I imagined him with a beard.

  “Perfect! Let’s not waste time. Let’s get these people out of this jumble of iron.”

  A firefighter came over to the vehicle to assess the situation.

  “There’s only one survivor?” he asked, amazed.

  “No, the girl is alive, too,” the young, beautiful voice said quickly and sharply. “She’s unconscious.”

  The firefighter turned to look for his team and called them urgently.

  “Hurry, men!” he shouted. “We’ve got to get these people out of here, quick.”

  In that moment, I lost consciousness.

  Chapter 2

  A Very Real Nightmare

  Two days went by. I felt my body on a hard and comfortable mattress. Even though I was regaining consciousness, I could not open my eyes, much less move. However, I clearly heard the sounds around me.

  My sense of smell started to wake up.

  It smelled like...hospital? A wave of memories came over me—loose images, like flashes of light and darkness. I remembered my father, the noise of the sirens, the conversations of the people who attended us on the road. I was beginning to realize that this had not been a dream.

  I wanted to move, open my eyes, see where I was, get up from there and see my parents and my brother, tell them I was okay, and in turn ask how they were.

  I didn’t know how long I would be there unconscious and my mother would be worried. I had to call her so I could reassure her. And, well, I needed to call my father, too. He would be worried because I couldn’t answer him.

  Little by little, clarity started to return. I tried to move but still couldn’t.

  “And if I try to say something?” I asked myself.

  “Hello?” Although I didn’t expect it, I could hear myself.

  “Yes, it works!” I thought to myself, euphoric. Even though my tone was very weak, I was able to speak. Now I just needed someone to hear me.

  “Yes.” I heard my father’s voice and footsteps approaching awkwardly and quickly towards me. “Aurora? Daughter, are you awake?”

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  “My daughter, are you okay? How do you feel?” His tone was notably excited but nervous at the same time. His words almost ran over each other.

  “I’m okay, but I can’t open my eyes or move,” I said, a little worried. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t move.

  “Don’t worry, daughter, it will soon pass.” He wanted to reassure me. “It’s the effect of the anesthesia.”

  “Anesthesia?” I was surprised.

  “Yes. They had to operate urgently.”

  “Why?” I asked, even though I sensed the answer. Even so, I wanted him to confirm it.

  “We were in an accident and you had a hard blow on the head.”

  “What happened?” I insisted, trying to understand what had happened. The hypothesis that this wasn’t the result of my imagination was gaining strength.

  “Daughter, we had a collision with another vehicle,” he replied ruefully. I could not articulate a word. I wanted to think that it was a long and awful nightmare and that I hadn’t awakened yet. One of those that seems to never end, when you wake up and go back to sleep and go back to where it left off, that feels so real you feel miserable even after you wake up.

  Just then, a nurse came into the room.

  “Sir, she needs to rest,” she advised him. “It could take awhile for her to wake up.”

  “She’s already waking up,” my father hurried to let her know. “She’s talking.”

  “Oh, good!” she exclaimed, sounding a bit surprised. “Can you hear me, Aurora?” she asked kindly.

  She must have got very close to me because I could smell her perfume. Eternity, by Calvin Klein. It was the same perfume my mother wore. However, far from smelling nice, it made me nauseous and I tried to turn my head to one side. Fortunately, when I told her I was okay, she moved away from me.

  “You’ll be able to open your eyes and move soon,” she said, “now that the effect of the anesthesia is wearing off. But don’t worry, nothing will hurt. We’re giving you some strong painkillers so you won’t feel any discomfort,” she finished, satisfied, as if that were the answer to everything or that would alleviate the pain that would come later. A few seconds later, she left, and I gave thanks, for taking her strong aroma with her.

  Only a few minutes went by before I finally started to regain control of my body. At almost the same time, I could open my eyes and move my head mere millimeters in search of my father.

  “Dad,” I called.

  “I’m here, daughter,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay.”

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “No. It feels like I’m just tired and sleepy, like I just ran a week-long marathon and didn’t sleep the whole time.”

  “I suppose that’s because of the operation and the medications they’re giving you.”

  “Yes, probably so,” I agreed. “Dad, where are Mom and Eric?”

  I asked the question without knowing whether I’d be prepared for the answer. I remembered the comments by the people who came to our rescue. That phrase ‘there aren’t any other survivors’ echoed over and over in my head.

  “Daughter,” said my father, swallowing hard after a long pause, “only you and I are left.”

  And that’s when my eyes met his. I watched them, observing them moisten uncontrollably, sad, red and swollen with pain.

  My stomach contracted, provoking a great heaving incomprehension. Tears slid freely from the corners of my eyes, some towards the pillow, others towards the bandage on my head. My mother and my brother were gone...forever, but why? I didn’t understand why two great people had to die like this, so tragically and so young, without having time to say good-bye. In a sigh. As if we were actors in a dark dream setting that was turning into a real nightmare.

  “Are they in peace? Did they suffer?” I asked myself incessantly, not being able to articulate anything out loud, not being able to stop my heart from feeling the agonizing pain.

  The growing pain was like a dagger stuck in my chest. I would never see them again because, although I believed in reincarnation, everything would be different—other circumstances and times, different bodies and faces, different theatrical performances...if the Universe granted me all the time I’m counting on, it would still be a long time until that reunion. It would be decades before we saw each other again. I felt so distant, I was afraid.

  “And if I forget about them during that time?” I thought.

  But no,
I wouldn’t forget about them. I’d never forget about them! Even though that answer was no consolation. I wanted to enjoy my family now. And here! Not in sixty or seventy years. And my father? Alone now, a widow.

  “What is he going to do?” I wondered.

  My father caressed my cheek with his warm hand, drying my tears and at the same time with the other hand, squeezing mine with more force, but without hurting me.

  “Aurora,” he said in a muffled, faltering voice, “yesterday we cremated the remains of your mother and your brother.”

  This time it was me who squeezed his hand hard. As hard as I could, and without knowing what to do or think or say, I just asked him to hold me.

  We stayed there a long time, crying together for the loss of our family. At least we still had each other.

  Chapter 3

  Letters

  Three months had passed since that fateful day. A little more than a month after the accident, my father went back to work after going through rehabilitation. On the other hand, I was still a couple of weeks away from being released and able to start living completely normally again.

  Despite the passage of time, it was strange to see how sometimes everything seemed like a big lie.

  My mother’s death was a very hard blow, especially for my father. He’d never been apart from her since they’d met. They listened to each other and always came to an understanding. For me, they represented what true love could be. They were happy.

  In my case, in spite of the love I had for my mother, most of my pain was over the loss of my brother. He was only 2-1/2 years older than me, and he was always there to be my big brother and protect me. When I was little, I was a little homely, clumsy and had few friends. He was the only one who managed to cheer me up. Even when he saw me playing alone, he would take me to play with his friends, ignoring that some of them didn’t like that very much.

  Eric was the apple of my mother’s eye, or rather, of the whole family. I am certain that if he had been the only one to die, she would have fallen into a deep depression, or perhaps worse.