Angel or Spirit

When I was an undergraduate in the 70s I had a good friend called Chris. We were in Cambridge, England, but I used to visit him at Christmas in Leicester, where he lived, when I was staying with my grandmother. One night at College mucking about in the bar reading each others' palms he said 'what does mine say?' and I noticed his life-line was very short. 'That doesn't mean your life will be short' I told him, though what did I know about it? I stayed on to research and he went abroad with the army.

Before he went he came up to Cambridge in 1980 to see various friends, but slept each night in the chair in my room. But he never found any of his other friends, so we spent a few days together. A few months later my gran died and I went to Leicester to her funeral. At the drinks afterwards my mother took me upstairs and told me Chris had died (aged 24) in some training exercise, and his funeral was two days later in the same cemetery in Leicester. I grieved a lot for him. It was about a week before I remembered the palm-reading incident. And then I also remembered that I was the only person he had seen whom he knew during his visit a few months earlier. Had it really been him, or his spirit on an errand?

Two years later after I had left college, but still thinking sadly of him, I met him in two dreams. First we were in a town street, and I spotted him on the opposite side. He crossed and greeted me confidentially, saying 'I'm still here, but you won't be able to see me.' His face seemed to be shining. Then I had another dream about a month later. I was in a tour coach with a group of people and we all got off and walked into a field. Suddenly Chris walked up to me out of the field and we stood and had a quiet conversation.

Then he said 'Now I do have to go.' From daylight it became late dusk and we walked over to a corner of the field where there was a low white stone cross like a gravestone, and behind it stood a solemn angel like a cemetery statue, but it was a living being, gazing down at the cross. Chris shook my hand in farewell, walked round and stood beside the angel, clasped his own hands together and lowered his head. It became quite dark - I watched him for a moment and turned away. I awoke almost at once, and as I did so I felt the distinct brush of an airy kiss on my lips. (We had never considered kissing in life!) It was the kiss of farewell, and the impression of it was very extraordinarily real, a definitely physical sensation. After that, my sorrowing feelings began to be set at rest.

That's all, except that nearly ten years later I was driving in a car with a person who had never known him, or even about him, and the passenger was chatting away rather drunkenly. Suddenly out of nowhere he came out with a remark, and with a nickname for me, which had nothing to do with the person who was speaking, but was completely familiar to me as if they had been spoken by Chris. What was more uncanny, as he said these words his voice and intonation actually became the voice and modulation of Chris. I don't know if my hair stood on end, but I had prickles all down my spine. I simply said 'Thank you, Chris', and never explained to my other friend what I meant by it.

Angel or spirit? Sometimes we are angels in this world for other people, and they for us, but we do not choose when or where. In that respect, we are all servants and messengers of the Comforter.

Steven (England)