Is God Dreaming or Am I?

By Estella Camelion

This is a book about one soul's journey through life... learning, loving, living, and seeking answers. It's meant to inspire, entertain, and make you think about all that life has to offer and what we can take away from our own personal journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Estella Camelion
• Release date: Dec 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311660961

Estella Camelion

Estella Camelion lives on a mountain-top plateau in North Central Alabama with her husband and two cats. She is a Reiki Master, has certifications in various other methods of Energy Work, and has completed the Master Gardener course from Auburn University. She has previously published Spirit’s Journey, a book of her art and poetry.

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Is God Dreaming or am I?

by Estella Camelion

Copyright © 2013 Estella Camelion

Published by Birds of Pray Publishing at Smashwords, Inc.

IS GOD DREAMING OR AM I?

Cover design by Estella Camelion

Edited by Marley Gibson

ISBN:

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a published review.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

My journey began as a spark of fire in the year 1947. Our country was recovering from the trauma of World War II. It was also around the time of the happening at Roswell, New Mexico. I will not take responsibility for that event.

My very first conscious memory was of barely being a toddler and sitting in a little chair. There were some steep steps on the back of the house where we lived in Inglenook, a Birmingham community of very old houses. I took my straight-back chair and set it right on the edge of the top of these steps. As I sat in my chair, I began to tumble down the stoop, striking my head on a post that supported the framework.

I was knocked unconscious, and when I opened my eyes, I was lying on the couch in the living room with Mama and Daddy standing beside me. In my mind, I asked, How did I get here? I only remembered falling down the stairs.

Soon after that accident, Mama’s brother was killed in a car wreck. They took me to the funeral home for the viewing. Daddy picked me up and lifted me high enough so that I could see into the casket. Why did they want me to look at a dead person, I thought?

My next memories are of my little sister, Sadie, sitting in her highchair, laughing and snapping her fingers. Even though Sadie was two years younger, she was always a step ahead in many ways.

The milk buckets were on the floor in the kitchen. They were steamy and freshly drawn from our cows, and the smell was so unusual. Steam was rising off those buckets because it was very cold weather at the time.

The reason we were on the farm was because Daddy had an injury while working for the railroad. One night while he was on duty, someone forgot to keep his work area well lit and Daddy fell into a pit and broke his back. He sued them and collected thirty thousand dollars, which back then was like a million dollars to us. He managed to buy a beautiful house on two hundred acres of land. Anyway, Daddy got himself in a fix.

He also had a drinking and gambling problem, with a terrible temper to match. Once, he was trying to teach Mama how to drive a farm truck. He became angry with her and grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it, trying to take control in anger, and ended up running us off into a creek.

Sadie and I could have drowned if not for the people passing by who saw our predicament, and helped rescue us. I remember floating out of the truck window and being pulled to safety.

It was soon after that episode that we lost everything due to Daddy’s drinking and a huge gambling debt he couldn’t pay.

Daddy became so ill that he had to go to Memphis, Tennessee, for some serious stomach surgery at the Veterans Administration (VA) hospital. A large portion of his stomach had to be removed. Mama was by his side through it all. Sadie and I stayed with our Granny Daisy – Mama’s mother.

There was a period of about six months that Granny took care of us before we would be seeing Mama or Daddy again. Granny Daisy and Grandpa J. D. lived close to the railroad tracks where he worked laying the tracks. Grandpa was a Section Foreman who oversaw many other workers. They all loved him.

They lived in a section house and it had a large screened-in porch. I remember Granny hanging her wash on the line and talking with neighbors across the back fence. My sister and I would sit under an old oak tree, eating graham crackers and peanut butter, while Granny took care of her chore. We were very young and not able yet to help her.

They didn’t have an indoor bathroom back then, after all, this was only the early 50s. There was a path leading to the outhouse where buttercups bloomed.

At night, while going to sleep, I remember hearing the train whistle in the distance. I wrote a poem many years later about this period in my life.

My little sister and I spent many happy childhood days with them, and it would not be long now until Sadie and I were reunited with Mama and Daddy for the next episode of life changing experiences.

Sounds of Time

On foggy nights, when all is quiet,

I know I’ll always listen for distant sounds of memories,

Like a ghostly old train whistle.

It takes me back to yesterday,

When I was a little girl,

Grandma in the kitchen,

Grandpa was her whole world.

In summertime,

The shady trees where my sister and I did play,

Grandma in the porch swing,

resting at the end of the day.

Chapter 2: Fleeting Childhood Times

The first time Daddy took care of Sadie and me by himself, Mama had gotten ill and was placed in a mental institution. We were still not yet school age so Daddy found a babysitter while he worked every day. It was still the early 1950s.

Daddy would go to work after delivering us to a lady friend of his who owned a beer joint. We drank a lot of chocolate milk and watched many strange people until Daddy returned from work and took us home. It seemed like months went by before this changed.

This lady had a daughter of her own about our age. She taught Sadie and me how to mix sugar and cocoa together and pretend we were dipping snuff. We had fun, and this tasted better than snuff. Once, we made a big mess in this lady’s kitchen and that was the end of her keeping Sadie and me.

At night, when we were at home with Daddy, we cried much of the time and asked Daddy when was Mama coming home? It was a long time, but Mama returned and within a year we had a new little brother named Will. He became malnourished and dehydrated and was hospitalized for a while.

By this time, I was in the first grade. Mama wasn’t able to care for us again and she returned to the institution for more treatments and medication. She suffered severe bouts of depression and other mental issues that required constant supervision from nurses and doctors.

I’m not sure about the protocol