The Walk-in

I am there watching, waiting for my turn. Hovering and peering over the edge of the darkness that surrounds me. A being of pure, unconditional love. I am whole, I am complete, I am ‘one’ with the Universe and the great creator. Looking upon the bright blue glow of Earth hanging in the black and calmness of space. I can see him too. Right down to the tiny details. My sight locked on to the train hurtling along the tracks. It’ll pick up speed soon enough. He’s on the train. Driving it. He will excuse himself momentarily and go to the toilet cubicle. He will end his life. It’s part of his soul contract. He decided nineteen years ago that by this day, he would’ve had enough life experiences on Earth to enrich his soul. Then it would be my turn. We made a deal before he was born.

The School of Earth is the hardest in the Universe. Beings across different dimensions and timelines look at the souls who go to Earth as hero’s, and warriors. Most never put their hands up to experience such harsh duality - the love and the hate, the good and the bad, wars and famine, the amnesia that clouds us the moment we are born. Only souls wanting to earn the most experience and learn the hardest lessons go to Earth. It’s not for everyone. Millions of people end their lives, die in accidents. There are a lot of walk-in souls. No one judges here on this side. As I said, we collectively know that Earth is hard.

I’ve never walked-in before, only been born. That’s the traditional way of course, but like me, if a soul wants extra lessons to expand awareness and growth, then you can opt to walk-in. I signed a contract with the young man on the train. We were both in spirit form, in front of a higher council of beings, who witnessed and signed off on the whole thing. He would gain his knowledge and experience on Earth and then I would take over as he ended his life. A soul swap, if you like. Saving the physical body from dying and saving myself two decades of infant-hood and adolescence to battle through. I could walk-in to a body on the brink of adulthood and learn more of the lessons that my soul was craving here in spirit form.

There’s a catch of course. No memory at first when the transition happens. I will suffer the same amnesia of the afterlife as I would if I was born the traditional way. I will also have to work at fusing my soul with the physical form to develop memories to understand and feel the emotions connected to the relationships he has built in his life. They will become my relationships too so I will have to work hard, especially with no memory. It won’t be easy, but then again, it’s not supposed to be. Everything is a lesson, an experience for soul growth towards unconditional love and enlightenment, and believe it or not, we choose this before we come to Earth - all of it.

His Earth name is Dafydd Jones. He drives the train on the main Welsh line between Holyhead and Bangor. A popular route with tourists boarding ferries to Ireland and quite a scenic journey along this part of the Welsh coast. He became a train driver because his father was one and being a 'valley boy' he felt there wasn’t much else he’d really be good at. Not the academic type or even the type to dream of a better life, Dafydd had always had feelings and a deep longing to end his life on Earth. Doctors and therapists could not help him. They weren’t the type of emotions that could be drowned out by anti-depressants or hypnotherapy. He was just feeling what his soul had already prearranged in the spirit world, the contract he held with me. We would share the human body of Dafydd, this day being the end for him and the beginning for me.

I watch as the train prepares to leave the station at; 'Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch’. The village with the longest name in Wales, and indeed Europe. That will be my first lesson this time on Earth, how to pronounce my new home town. I hone in on Dafydd. I can sense from up here he is distraught. The time is near. He makes a split second decision, which was actually fated years ago. He takes off his shoes and stuffs one inside of the other as best he can. He places them on top of the dead man’s switch, signalling to the engine that the driver is active and ensuring there is constant pressure so that the train will keep grinding along the tracks. What he doesn’t remember from his training, is that constant pressure on the dead man’s peddle will actually make the train accelerate at high speeds as the engine is constantly engaged. It doesn’t matter to him. He removes the vest which is part of his uniform and leaves the cabin heading for the toilet cubicle. A few heads look up at him from behind their books but as he gets further away from the drivers compartment, he is no longer recognisable as the driver. He closes the cubicle but it does not lock. He takes a pocket knife from his trousers and makes the cuts on his wrist.

I don't see anything else. In that instant, my vision of Dafydd, the train and even Earth itself all descend into complete darkness.

**************

A whooshing sound fills my ears, like wind being sucked through a tunnel. There is a pulling in the middle of my chest, like someone tugging me towards something. It’s dark and my body feels dense and heavy. I cannot open my eyes yet, they feel sore and swollen. I am in a state of nothingness, just black all around with a tiny pinprick of light far off in the distance, getting bigger and bigger with every breath I take.

“Hello....hello....can you hear me?”.

A mans voice replaces the whooshing sound in my ears and my head rolls towards it. There is pounding on my chest now, like someone is hitting me. My eyes blink slowly until I feel ready to push them open. It’s bright. A stark contrast from the darkness I've just come from. My eyes fully open but I cant help but squint from the daylight streaming in from the window above me to my left. I realise I am on the floor. We are moving, picking up pace. There are two heads above me, peering down. Two men. There is concern in their voices as I try to bend my elbows to sit up. I seem to take them by surprise.

“Oh, wait just a minute there. My name is Ian, there’s been an accident. We need you to stay still ok”.

Ian tries to gently help me lie back down but I push his hand away. My head is swirling but I want to sit up. I watch him give the other guy a quick nod of the head and each of them steady an arm of mine and prop me up against the wall.

“Ok, do you feel better sitting up now?”, Ian asks. I look at him, he is wearing a uniform but I don’t know who he is. The other hasn’t left my right arm and for the first time I can see and feel that he’s pressing down hard on my wrist. I look to where the pressure is and I can see blood, a lot of blood.

“What happened? Is that my blood?”, I ask, my voice croaky and dry. I’m trying to piece together what’s going on. We are on a train. The carriage behind my back vibrates quicker as the train speeds up faster and faster with every passing moment.

“There was an accident. It looks like you tried to take your own life. Do you remember anything? What did you cut yourself with?”

I don’t answer but tears form on the corners of my eyes and I let them roll down my cheek as I press the back of my head against the carriage wall. There’s something there. A deep emotion ingrained in my body. I can’t relate to it but I feel intense sadness. It doesn't feel good. It makes my insides squirm and I struggle to come to terms with what has transpired. The man holding my wrist still hasn’t spoken to me but he’s beginning to bandage it up from a small first aid kit beside him. He doesn’t look at my face. I wonder who he is and if he knows me.

"We've looked through your pockets for any identification. You dont have a wallet or even a ticket. Do you know your name?", Ian asks.

"No, I dont remember", I reply shaking my head. I hear footsteps vibrating on the carriage floor and I can feel them approaching quickly. All three of us look up at a woman in a navy uniform. She is wearing a name badge that says 'Great Western Rail' and the name Anita is written underneath. She looks me dead in the eyes, she is shocked.

"Oh my god Dafydd! What the hell has happened?". She bends her knees to get a closer look at the situation. Ian makes way for her as he gets to his feet and stands behind her.

"Dafydd! What have you done? You said you were feeling okay today. I cant believe this, how could you do this?", Anita says frantically as though she is feeling every emotion under the sun. Ian puts a hand on her shoulder and helps her stand up again. Her hand is over her mouth but her eyes are locked on mine. Her expression turns from shock to anger. Ian pulls her up the aisle away from me and the other man, and I can see them talking animatedly. I look at the man who finishes bandaging my wrist.

"Guess my name's Dafydd then", I say ironically. He raises his eyebrows and his mouth curves up in a very thin smile. His expression tells me that was probably inappropriate.

"I'm Simon", he says in response. "That'll hold until we meet the ambulance at Holyhead Station. By the feel of this train, the driver must've gotten word and is speeding to get us there. Don't worry, it wont be too long now". I look at his balding head bent in front of me packing up the first aid kit. The driver?, I repeat in my head, as Anita charges towards the front of the train and Ian walks back towards me.

"Dafydd there's been an escalation. Anita said you're the driver of this train. You have to tell us how to slow it down or better still, stop it".

Simon looks from Ian to me and back to Ian. I look at them both for a moment without saying anything.

“Please Dafydd. This is a serious situation. There are passengers on this train. Anita said you have been feeling suicidal for months now, you really shouldn’t have been working, especially in charge of a train”. Ian seemed angry now, or maybe he was worried. The tops of his ears had turned red and the gentle, easy look on his face had disappeared. I feel some memory trickle into my brain as if the word ‘driver’ was a trigger. I look at Ian and I begin to nod my head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes she’s right. I am the driver. I remember being in the cabin at the front and then waking up here. I don’t know exactly what happened in between or why but yes I do remember I am the driver”. I say as I push up off of the floor. Ian and Simon lunge to help me.

“Be careful! You really shouldn’t be making sudden moves like that. You’ve lost a lot of blood. The last thing we need is for you to lose conciousness again. Lets give Anita instructions of how to stop the train and we can get everyone safely to Holyhead”.

“Where is Anita?”, I ask as I struggle to steady myself in the carriage going full speed. From this standing position I am suddenly aware just how fast we are moving. Treetops fly past the windows and we hurtle straight through stations.

“She’s gone to calm some passengers down. People are beginning to get worried”. Ian replied, just as Anita’s tinny voice cracked over the tannoy.

“Ladies and gentleman can I please have your attention. Our normal service from Bangor to Holyhead has been interrupted. Due to a medical emergency, this train is bound straight for Holyhead with no stops in between. I repeat, this service will not be stopping at any stations until we reach our destination. We have picked up speed and will strive to get you to Holyhead as safely as possible where you can change lines on a complimentary ticket. We apologise for any inconvenience and trust we have your understanding in this medical emergency situation. Thank you.”

It was a lie of course, to soothe the nerves of the passengers.

“I’ve got to get to the drivers carriage. I’ve got to stop the train”, I say as I lean my weight on the aisle seats at each side of me. Ian and Simon try to stop me but with every passing moment I am feeling stronger and stronger. I feel alive with a certain buzz that only disaster or adventure can give you. Adrenalin perhaps. The rush flows to my extremities and suddenly my legs have a life of their own and are carrying me towards the front of the train. I leave Ian and Simon for dust as my feet start to run. I pass worried passengers and shout out to them that’s it’s going to be okay. I feel like a hero in a book or a movie, even although there’s at least three people on this train who think I’m the villain.

I run until I reach the drivers cabin. Anita is there pushing violently at the door handle. She doesn’t see me at first until I am flush with her shoulder. She looks at me in shock, like she is seeing a ghost. Her eyes dart to my bandaged wrist and she sees the blood seeping through.

“It’s okay”, I say, “I remember I’m the driver. There’s a pin code for entry. 4456 and then enter”. I watch as she presses the numbers and I wrack my brain as to where that information came from. I don’t remember the details but it’s ingrained in there as if it’s something I did every single day. Like some kind of muscle memory or something. I push open the door and immediately see my shoes on the dead man’s peddle. I kick them away and take over the controls. The runaway train starts to slow and chug and we rumble delicately to a rolling stop.

“Dafydd! What the hell are you playing at? Trying to kill yourself and then running around saving the day?!”

“No! Look I don’t know what happened back there, but I don’t want to kill myself. I feel on top of the world. I feel excited and ready for adventure - I love my life, my job, why would I want to end all of that?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Dafydd?”, Anita asked seriously. I looked at her closely and although her facial features were somewhat unfamiliar to me, I knew her. I knew her good heart and her cheery voice. I knew she cared about me and somewhere inside me I could sense that I cared about her too.

That was all part of the healing process. Getting to know the people in my life again. Of course we got to Holyhead safely and I was looked over by the doctors. The news coverage of the event painted me as a hero and I was happy about that. Miraculously I was never charged with anything by the local police. Even more miraculous was the new lease of life I felt afterwards. I refer to the whole incident as 'the before times' now. I found a journal in my bedroom when I got home from the hospital. The pages were filled with intense emotions, depressive, suffocating thoughts. I could not and still cannot relate to those feelings. The words seem written by another man completely, a man I do not know. Even in my darker moments, I cannot understand him. Even my relationships with my loved ones have changed. When I first came home, my mother and sisters were walking on eggshells around me. They couldn't believe my inspired thoughts and joyous love of life were true, unmedicated feelings from their little Dafydd. Its as if I got a second chance of some kind and I’m not going to waste it.