Eleni Frangatos

ZIMBABUE A DREAM – OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE (OBE)

 
My two-year old son is with me. I hold him on my side seated on my hip, with my right arm embracing his waist, like I always do when I take him with me so he can watch the landscape in front of him. His little tennis shoes with stripes in various colors, his swimming trunks, the gaudy colored T-shirt, the yellow cap he likes so much. 

All of a sudden, I see myself walking on a path in the midst of “bushvelt” - a reddish sand path surrounded by bushes. I also see on my left the remainder of an old colonial type construction covered with zinc plates. These very old, abandoned, and in ruins buildings are found in the heartland of Africa, and were used as railway stations in places lost here and there in the vastness of this continent, remnants of the British Empire ruler. 

There is a wall made of stones. Some of the stones are already loose by the action of time and wind, and have fallen to the ground. Leaning against this wall, holding a Sheppard’s crooked staff, stands a wrinkled, old black man, with a big straw hat shading his eyes and covering his grey hair. In his mouth, he has a very basic handmade pipe. Beyond, runs a mighty river of muddy waters. 

I approach the old man, I greet him respectfully with the earned respect that comes with his age, and ask him if I can bathe in that river and if the river has crocodiles. I ask him this without knowing the reason, because, in fact, I have no intention of entering those dark waters, much less with my son.

With a distant expression and a slowness of those who have tired by watching time go by, he removes his pipe from his lips and a faint smoke curls in space.

- It's up to you – he says - life is a river. With or without crocodiles, there are always risks. Only you will know whether or not to enter that river. The risk is all yours. 

I was going to say something, when the old man magically disappeared.

I look to my right, and surprisingly my deceased grandparents, holding

hands, walk in my direction, smiling. In a fraction of a second, they vanish too.

In front of me is the mighty, wide, powerful river. On the river banks, I see undergrowth and small shrubs. The constant sound of the muddy waters, gushing to the mouth, plays a symphony in the silence of the forest. 

Here and there, the water surrounds boulders and vegetation. The river instills in me fear and respect.

As I walk to the river, the water – on my left side – becomes clearer and clearer. In the middle of the river, to my left, there is now crystal clear water. On my right side, however, the water remains dark, thick and muddy. 

Suddenly, a deafening sound… 

I stop at a distance of the bank. A huge fish appears. I've never seen such a fish. It reminds him of a dolphin that crossed with a swordfish, with a long pointed beak, light silver gray, mixed with colored spots like a watery rainbow. It's beautiful! The fish moves in very slow movements, going in and out of water, like drawing several imaginary arcs, displaying all its beauty, spreading the water into small droplets of gold and silver.

Suddenly, a deafening sound... to my right side; the dark, muddy water of a reddish brown, whirlwinds, revolves, and large amounts of water rise, while huge bubbles of oxygen are released on the surface. An indefinite volume begins to emerge. I involuntarily remember the Loch Ness monster in Scotland. I look at my son. He is not disturbed, he is oblivious, not a sign of fear. To my surprise, I do not feel any fear either. 

The massive volume, coming out from the middle of the muddy waters, begins to gain contour.

A huge, gigantic black man stands in front of me. The water runs down his herculean body back into the river. His dark skin now gleams in the sunlight. He has an athletic, muscular, proportional body, a real Greek ebony statue. A black loin cloth adorns his hips. And there he is, standing with his legs apart, arms slightly away from the body, abdomen tight in a bundle of muscles. The body slightly arched is bent forward in my direction. His thick black hair, abundant, rises above his head on three levels, as if on a structure of its own, falling profusely to shoulder height. Strangely it is straight hair and not the curly hair of the black Africans of that area.

He looks at me. His eyes have an intense light in them. I cannot describe his penetrating eyes. Suddenly, the feeling of peace takes over and it is as if the world stops. Nothing moves. His eyes lock deeply into mine and I feel as if I am hovering in space and nothing evil can happen to me. I am totally safe and under the protection of this soul. My son is no longer in my arms and still I am not concerned. 

The glowing look of this beautiful creature makes me static, enraptured, and I cannot divert my eyes from him, as if my life depends on this creature. This man knows everything about me. I need to say nothing about myself. 

Zimbabue was his name

His voice makes itself heard in a perfect firm tone, not aggressive, conveying the certainty that only millennia of knowledge makes one acquire. 

- I am Zimbabue. I'm an African warrior. I have lived for many, many years, in a time that cannot be measured. I fight every injustice and protect those who need help. I came to help you, to show you your mission. You have finally asked for help, so I am here for you. I've always been by your side, just watching and unable to help, because you did not want to be helped. You always thought you could control everything in your life. Like everybody else, you have free will. You can do whatever you want. But whenever you feel down, shaken and your strength has gone, call me! I will come to your rescue. You're not alone. At the moment, you are weak, powerless, sad, very sad, because you are not willing to surrender to your mission on Earth. Do not be afraid to live it. You're a Light Warrior, just like me. Warriors suffer, they feel all suffering with a great intensity, they try to help other people, and are misunderstood, sometimes they are wronged, but they fight, they always fight. You have been fighting for values ​​that to a true warrior mean nothing, because you use your time and energy in frivolous matters so insignificant in relation to the whole Universe... so your struggle has been inglorious. Your fight, the real fight, is starting now, if you so wish. It's the warrior's fight, and it is the fight of total surrender.

There is no greater, no more difficult and painful struggle than that of total surrender. You will suffer a lot, but you will succeed and improve spiritually. Your energy is low; you have no dreams and have let go; your belief is buried under doubts; you lost your path. Everything that you have been fighting for has always involved some second intention, some interest. That is the reason for your failure. I'm here to help you. I have waited for you in silence, for this very moment. I could do nothing for you, just waited for you to humbly become aware that you need help. Your time has come. From now on, things in your past that you thought were weird, crazy, caused by your imagination will begin to be understood, and you will accept them.

Your doubts about Spirits and afterlife, which have haunted you for such a long time, will now vanish. Everything will change in your life. You will just have to change your attitude. Stop thinking that what happens to you are just "coincidences". Look at your past, How many "coincidences" did you miss by not believing them? You have been the exterminator of your own dreams. 

Zimbabue then raises his arms, turns his palms towards me, his look seems like fire consuming me. From his hands come two rays of emerald light. One is directed at my heart, the other is focused at the point between my eyes.

A restrained breath comes from his lips as if an inner energy is passing from him to me. 

Was it just a dream?

I wake up, stunned, drowsy, very sweaty, not knowing where I am. A few minutes later, very slowly, I recognize my bedroom. I get up, take a towel and dry my body. I go to the balcony – on the tenth floor, from where I can see the “Boa Viagem” beach in the city of Recife. A huge moon is hanging over the sea. The heat is suffocating even though a light breeze blows once in a while from the ocean.

I sit on the veranda and go over the detailed dream. My son in the dream was two years old. It was as if I was taken back to the time that I left Africa. 25 years had passed, and here I was in Brazil to where I fled because of the colonial war. Twenty-five years... I missed my Africa so much!

So much emotion suffocated, repressed, pushed to the bottom of my heart, how many struggles in vain, suffering, disappointment, doubt, insecurity, resentment, rejection, and loneliness corroding me slowly - pain, pain, pain which as child I had never been able to deal with. 

Where were my dreams? What did I do to my life? Where was that little girl with blond plaits, blue eyes, full of hope? Why did I always ignore my childhood, my family, why did I avoid even thinking about it? 

My life was a collection of losses, a collection of farewells. Goodbye, bye! Bye! Bye! How many times had I uttered those words, sobbing? I had lost count. Farewell to my father, my hero, my grandparents, the city where I was born and to my husband, the good jobs, the cities where I lived; to the friends whom I left behind... passions, loves of my life... to my son - always goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. I could not stand any kind of farewell any longer...

I fought! God! How I struggled! Lately, I did not fight any more.  As I struggled with each movement the ropes and chains of life kept me still destroying more and more the possibility of any dream coming true, cutting deeply into my flesh, heart and soul. To tell you the truth, I did not even bother to dream any longer. It was as if life had finally won over the fierce and untamed lioness that I was, and the worst of it is that I, myself, had allowed all this. As time went by I felt my fighting attempts weaken and this frightened me, panic devoured my heart, and chewed my reasoning... nothing was right in my life... 

Who was I at the moment? Where had all my strength gone to? I had lost myself and my essence over the years... like the flickering flame of an extinguishing candle.

I so wanted to travel to Africa. My family lived in Cape Town. It crossed my mind to go and be with them for a while, but I knew I could not do it then. It was impossible.

I heard Zimbabue, as if he was there beside me: “Don’t fight against your own wish. Don’t doubt. Let the Higher Spirits help you”.

Africa, Africa, my land: mysterious, warm, mystical Africa of multiple landscapes, the smell of mother Earth, Africa of amazing splendors, unforgettable sunrises and sunsets. The scorching sun, boiling blood in one’s veins, hallucinations… Danger and ecstasy! All so very intense!

- Higher Spirit? Spirit of Light?  ”   I do not know!   “Zimbabue! Whoever you are help me!  I'm very tired”.

I had lost everything during the African war and had to leave my country with a small son and a husband in shock.  Brazil welcomed me with open arms. I had no money and knew nobody and this made it very difficult in the beginning.   I did’nt even had time to cry!

Suddenly, a convulsive cry, a cry suffocated for years and years, exploded in me...and I cried my heart out.

I went back to bed and fell asleep. I woke up with the phone ringing. From the distant land I could hear the cheerful, enthusiastic voice of my beloved little sister, calling from Cape Town.

- Sis, surprise! You won a ticket to come here - my gift and my husband's. Come and spend Christmas and your birthday with us! Come and load your batteries.  You need to come to the family. I love you sis, and I miss you so much.

And there I stood astonished, listening, not knowing if I had dreamt it before or if I was dreaming it at that very moment. 

Important explanation 

This dream or out of body experience (OBE) took place in the city of Recife, Brazil, in 1997.  Since then I have had several other dreams, always guiding me in my life, and all have been very detailed and intense. When I wake from this type of dream, I always write it down at once, but astonishingly years have gone by and it seems my dreams were yesterdays’ dreams, for I have never forgotten the details of any of them. 

 Eleven years later, already in the city of Vinhedo, State of Sao Paulo, I began to study the Spiritist Doctrine and began to truly understand the meaning of these dreams.

I then decided to investigate the origin of Zimbabue, the African warrior with smooth hair and of enormous stature who accompanies me throughout life, who in situations of extreme danger was seen standing beside me by other people, some of which did not even know me.

Some have associated this warrior's name with the country now called Zimbabwe that became independent in 1980.  

This warrior, however, lived a few centuries earlier.

Since I was born in Mozambique and this country has borders with Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, Zambia, South Africa and Botswana and in my dream a large wide river appears, I linked this to the Limpopo River, and the facts began to appear: the Limpopo River is the second largest river in Southern Africa and serves as a border between South Africa, Botswana and Zimbabwe before entering northern Mozambique!!!

I began to read more and more about the issue, feeling the frenzy of one who is finally getting to the desired information. And then, out of nowhere, came the following:

Zimbabwe, or Zimbabwe (from the dialect xona, meaning "stone house") is located at a common point between Mozambique and the recent country of Zimbabwe.

However, contrary to the recent independent country, this other civilization appears in the first millennium A.D. and was even considered by the UN as Historical Patrimony.

It is said that black men, large in size, with straight hair, perhaps from ancient Egypt, would have descended to this region and built a city of huge stones and towering walls, and no one knows where these stones came from. It is said that these beings of great stature and strength, warriors without fear, and already knowing about metallurgy, came from other planets, and / or flying saucers. To sum up and simplify: no one knows until now where they came from and how those stones came to rest there, and their straight hair contrasting with the hair of the Africans of that place is another mystery.

As I said previously, I was born in Mozambique, and while I lived in my country, I never knew or even heard about this civilization. Most people are not aware of this place in the middle of the dense jungle. Only 11 years later, did I come to know it through this revealing dream with my Spiritual Guide, Zimbabue!!!

There are things that have no explanation, only a Spiritist understands...  And, amazingly! One day, out of nowhere, I decided to look for someone who could draw a picture of Zimbabue, based on the above mentioned description. After a long search, I finally found online a young girl, who volunteered to draw the picture. I had no personal contact with her, I just sent her the description of my dream and she drew Zimbabue. When she delivered the drawing to me, she told me that she was a Spiritist too… As for the image of my Spiritual Guide, I would say, it is 90% the same as what I saw in my dream.

There are things that have no explanation!!!