God's Itinerary

By Dixie Marlene Williams

God's Itinerary is a hysterically funny truth based on faith and mindful travel through USA, India, and Egypt. Transformative, inspiring, and uplifting, inspired by dream vision and deep desire to experience truth. A solo journey of the soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662483868

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God's Itinerary

Dixie Marlene Williams

Copyright © 2023 Dixie Marlene Williams

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 978-1-6624-8385-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8386-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

2009

About the Author

The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

—Albert Einstein

Acknowledgments

My Village

Maxine Madeline Williams, my mom who taught me to be independent.

Protector: Donna Maxine Williams, my eldest sister, who was advised by my mom that she was responsible for me, so my sister has tried to protect me on my wild adventures.

Spiritual advisor: Reverend Anne Puryear, friend and author of Stephen Lives, who encouraged me to write God's Itinerary.

Coordinator: Mike Remlinger, my son-in-law, who was there at the airport to retrieve me and provide a temporary place of refuge.

Friends: Tom and Sharon Bishop, who always had an open-door policy at their home in South Lake Tahoe, California, for me and went above and beyond in assisting me to find employment when I returned from my adventures.

Knight in shining armor: Tim Davydov, IT, who gave me a new computer to create God's Itinerary and then proceeded to assist in helping me with all technical aspects of completing the book.

Friend: Tara Kipfer, lieutenant colonel (USMC), who did the initial edit of the script.

Dixie Williams, Photographer

2009

Dear Anne,

I have had some changes in my life recently. I have just moved back to Lake Tahoe after two years of paying off all my debts. I was planning on going to South Africa to volunteer with children who have AIDS. However, the itinerary changed after I experienced a vision.

The vision occurred after much pleading and yelling out loud to my source/God to tell me what truth is. I had read over twenty books on spiritual concepts yet still did not feel that I was getting the lesson. So out of frustration of fifty plus years of spiritual journeys, I sat on my bed in my Lake Tahoe cabin, surrounded by many well-known spiritual books, and I screamed out What is truth? The only text that propelled me into higher consciousness was A Course in Miracles. I studied the text twice with a four-year break in between. I would study the message and knew that soon I would experience what I had just read. Some days I dreaded turning that page because I knew that lesson would present itself to me. That night, a dream or vision appeared. I was not certain what the criteria were for a dream versus a vision. I deduced later that since I was conversing and questioning the experience while in the alpha or delta brain frequency, it must be a vision with a message. A Course in Miracles prefaces A universal theology is impossible, but a universal experience is not only possible but necessary.

The vision that I saw was an architectural design that could only be seen in a foreign land. It appeared to be an ancient temple with curved stone balconies containing three men in white robes. The name Mauritius was spelled out within the vision state. I silently commented to the energy showing me these letters that I did not even know where that was, but I easily remembered the spelling upon awakening from the vision state.

I was excited and immediately went to the computer and typed in sacred temples. I scrolled down to the one that had my initials, DW, which brought forth Dwarkadhish, India! This was the temple in my vision. Now I was really excited! I researched the history of Dwarkadhish on the Wikipedia website.

"Dwarka is one of the four sacred Hindu pilgrimage sites and is one of the Sapta puri, the seven most ancient religious cities in the country. Dwarka was built 2,500 and destroyed by the Mahmud Begada rulers and rebuilt in the 16th century. The city of Krishna, Hindu writings say that when Krishna left Earth to join the spiritual world the age of Kali began and Dwarka and its inhabitants were submerged by the sea

My friend Vivek informed me that Dwarka was built by Lord Krishna approximately six thousand years ago. It was taken away in one night by the sea after an earthquake. Its ruins were found off the Gujarat coast a few years ago. For further facts, Graham Hancock has written extensively about Dwarka on his website.

It must be a sign that I am to travel to India in the area of Gujarat! I was not certain what the Mauritius spelling was about. However, within a three-month span, I had once again paid off my debts, liquidated my stocks, quit my job, and left for India! Alone—or so I thought.

Love, Dixie

Note: Anne Puryear is a friend, minister, psychic, Edgar Cayce aficionado, author of Stephen Lives, and spiritual advisor for many souls.

February 16, 2009

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. I had decided that my spiritual journey would begin in Ireland, where friends had told me about Creacon Lodge, a spiritual retreat owned by Derek O'Neill.

My journey began with a train from Hollywood to the Santa Ana Airport hotel. At the hotel computer, while attempting to print my one-way ticket to Ireland, I was informed that I would need an exit ticket out of Ireland! Since I did not know when I was leaving Ireland or what mode of transportation out of said country (i.e., boat or plane) to Scotland, I booked a flight to London.

The worst of times. I was prodded, probed, questioned, and I experienced full body searches. No, I was not abducted by Aliens; it was airport security in the US, United Kingdom, and Ireland! I was photographed at Heathrow Airport in London and questioned at documents in Ireland. I mistakenly wore pants that had zippers up and down the legs and pockets, thinking it was very smart of me to carry everything of value in my many pockets! Not!

The zippers set off every alarm at the airports, which meant full body scanning and emptying my pockets of everything! The security woman at Santa Ana Airport thought it to be important to announce out loud every body part she scanned, and while the alarm was buzzing, she announced out loud zipper on ankles, zipper on right pocket, zipper on left pocket, underwire bra!

I said, Do you have to talk so loud? (Sheesh, underwire bra wearer here!) Then as I was getting all my loot back in my pockets, a female security guard approached me and, in a conversational tone, asked where I was going. I told her Ireland. She then began to speak in an Irish brogue, What do ya think the weather to be in Ireland? Where might ya be going?

I looked at her and thought, Is she for real? Then off I went to catch my flight to Chicago. Lo and behold, we had an hour-long delayed flight due to Chicago weather.

I finally arrived in Chicago; I needed to ride a train, go through security, and catch another flight. Not looking good at this point! I arrived at security, and my pants once again set off all alarms. I saw the gate to Ireland Airlines and asked security if they would notify the gate agents that I am here and please to wait for me. But it was to no avail, as the gate closed before my very eyes. After being probed for nothing, I left to rebook a flight. Irish agents informed me that I had to go all the way back to the other terminal to rebook a flight. However, my luggage had gone to the nether lands of displaced bags.

I presumed I would not depart until the next day, as it was 7:00 p.m. I had now been standing in line at United Airlines for a half hour when all three clerks decided they had to go home! They informed the remaining people to go to the back of the line at another counter! We all waited another half hour in line when they announced we were all in the wrong line. We traipsed to the back of the line in the next section, and finally it was my turn!

The agent informed me that they were putting me on a 10:00 p.m. flight. It was then almost 8:00 p.m. However, I had to now go through security once again! Will I ever get out of the USA? I now have the security routine down. I called for a female security agent and told her the zippers would set off alarms. They probed and scanned me once again. Miracles abound, I actually boarded the flight to London, not Ireland, meaning more probes in more countries. My position on the flight was the middle seat—the worst seat on the plane! I have a 250-pound man to my left, whose legs are smashed into the front seat, and a twenty-five-year-old drunk female to the right of me. I introduced myself and said, We should know each other in case the plane goes down! Well, the girl freaked out and said she was drunk because she was terrified of flying! I suggested to her, (as a certified hypnotherapist) Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, you are on a train, you are on a train! Apparently, hypnosis does not affect her. More drinks, perhaps?

We were like sardines in a can. We couldn't bend down to get our shoes off, nor could we exit to use the toilet without making someone get up. The drunk girl was passed out, and the obese guy was too big to move. I sat in agony and couldn't sleep!

We arrived at Heathrow Airport in London at noon. I rushed off the airplane toward security and Irish terminal with only my backpack—no luggage as it was on another flight. I removed all items from my pockets, had my photo taken again, and finally sat with neither food or sleep. I was so tired and hungry. My hands were shaking, and my mind was spacey! Note: my backpack was very heavy, and I am not used to weight. I could sit down on the toilet with the backpack. However, I could not get up off the toilet with backpack. I reached the final hurdle of getting into Ireland when I met the bulldog of all security! I was the last one through. No one was around but her and me. Bulldog queries: Where are you staying while in Ireland? When are you leaving? Prove that you have a reservation at a hotel. Prove you have enough money to be here and will not be a burden to Ireland!

Speaking within I must be calm! I presented to the bulldog agent my reservation at the Creacon Lodge. I explained that I had available credit of $2,000 on my credit card. I displayed my ticket from London to India. She was outraged at my stupidity!

She yelled, London is in another country!

I suppressed what I truly wanted to say: Well, I have to leave Ireland to f—ng arrive in India! However, I divulged nothing; I did not want to agitate her more! I acknowledged my stupidity and swore I would definitely leave Ireland!

When are you leaving? she spewed.

I blithely answered, Oh, I don't know! Maybe six weeks?

Bulldog replied, Six weeks? Will you be staying at the same place?

I answered, Well, maybe, I don't know!

Bulldog asked, Where is your suitcase?

I replied, I don't know. However, it is not lost, it just took an earlier flight! Ha ha. I had worn her down. She allowed me to enter Ireland as long as I appreciated the fact that it was against all protocols!

I said, Yes, ma'am.

I was now going on eighteen hours of no sleep. I proceeded to the tourist center, thankful I did not have extra luggage to haul through the streets. I caught the bus in Dublin, Ireland, a city of over a million people, not what I wanted at this point of my sojourn. There were so many buses they resembled one long train on two different tracks, double-decker buses and single buses, bikes providing transportation to people getting off work, then a light drizzle joined the waning evening light. I stepped off the bus and located the hotel after querying almost everyone on the street where the hotel was located. It was getting dark and there was more drizzle from rain. I located the hotel and couldn't sleep because of the time difference, and I was exhausted beyond belief.

In the morning, I took another bus to the main terminal and rode for three hours to Wexford. Naturally, I did not have correct change for the bus and had no idea what the currency denominations looked like, since I just changed currency. I held up my hand with what little change I had and displayed my weary palm to the bus driver. He took one coin and gave up on the remaining money I owed him. I thanked him profusely and located the next bus. I had arrived at Creacon Lodge, a beautiful, peaceful, isolated healing center with amazing people from all over the world, people on a path similar to mine.

The first person I met was Cat, who had sold her yoga business in New York and had been living in Ireland for two years! I was introduced to Barbara, who left her university job and had been living here in Ireland for a month. (Obviously they did not encounter Bulldog!) Nicholson, who had a physics degree, left everything and was on his path. It was reassuring that there were others in the universe receiving messages too!

I would leave Creacon Lodge on Friday, making my way all along the west coast of Ireland. Waterford was my next stop and then I had planned to depart Ireland by fast boat across to Scotland—that is, if it is approved by Bulldog.

It is beautiful weather here, not cold at all, no rain, only sporadic clouds and sun. My new friends from Creacon and I took a walk yesterday and actually had to remove our coats. It was a heat wave! We toured the Famine Ship, which brought the Irish to New York during the potato famine. The poor folk had to stay down below the ship and only received a half hour of sun a day for the six-to-eight-week voyage to America. They were provided flour and six pints of water per person. Toilets were a bucket on the upper deck in view of everyone. The poor just had to relieve themselves downstairs among their beds.

So goodbye for now, miss you all! Peace, joy, and currently I am happier than God.

February 20, 2009

It was an Edgar Allan Poe day in the once-largest Gothic church in Ireland. I meandered alone under gray clouds and cawing crows or rooks through the cemetery. All quiet except for the eerie caw of the birds. I strolled toward the back of the church cemetery when I saw an elderly man coming toward me, his white wispy hair blowing in the breeze, dark coat, and slow manner. I offered, Good morning, beautiful day!

Ichabod asked, Have ya seen the sad headstones? Come and I will show you! Ichabod first explained that the Church of Ireland is a Protestant Church and that all the Catholics are buried in the back of the cemetery! The Protestants are buried in the front of the church! Ichabod then took me to the headstones with the skull and crossbones, which meant they died of the plague! Also, the headstones faced the sun, and the Catholics are buried in the back!

I tarried on my way leaving Ichabod alone in the front of the church where the Protestants enjoy the sun. I took my time and walked through the town of New Ross, about 1.5 miles from Creacon Lodge. New Ross is where the Kennedy Clan originated. A statue of John Kennedy in the town square commemorates his visit to New Ross in 1963.

Friday, the twentieth of February, I boarded the bus toward the town of Waterford, the town where Waterford glass is blown. As I was going to tour the factory, I was told the company was in receivership. No tours as there was a sit-in. However, they had a skeleton crew to keep the fires burning. If the fires went out, they would never be able to start the fires up again.

It seemed as if they are waiting for an American company to buy the factory. The Waterford company has donated many crystal chandeliers to the church in town. Approximately sixteen crystal chandeliers hang in the church along with city hall. Note: if you have Waterford Crystal, it might go up in value if the factory closes.

Last night I was once again walking alone down the street of Waterford when an elderly man passed me and announced: You're beautiful!

Since he was toothless and about seventy years old, I politely said, Thank you. (I should have ignored him!)

Toothless asked, Do ya have a man?

Naive me, I said, No, I can't afford one!

Toothless, ever fearless, stated, But I'm free!

I retorted with: No, thank you! (I should have kept walking.)

Toothless responded ever so quickly, I would like to—all over you!

I retorted with what? I finally walked into the hinterlands!

February 21, 2009

Saturday, the twenty-first, at 7:00 a.m., I boarded the bus to Kilkenny. The Portree Hotel, where I am currently residing, is within walking distance to the train and bus station. The morning was foggy and dark, and it was slightly scary walking across the fogged bridge. The train ride was only a half hour to Kilkenny, where a restored castle lays on the River Nore. I toured the castle and spent the whole day walking and entering churches to see more beautiful stained glass windows. I took another bus to East Dunmore along the coast. The weather had been fifty to sixty degrees. Occasionally, you would see the sun, and generally, it was not cold. Tomorrow I leave for Cork.

Peace, joy, and bliss.

February 24, 2009

While still in Waterford, I went to a traditional Irish music festival and concert, where I met a couple who explained that Ireland is attempting to keep and teach the young about all the traditional music and dances. The group I saw and heard will be touring in America. The woman informed me that a friend of hers worked at Waterford Crystal factory since he was sixteen years old and was now ready for pension, and with the strike, the pension fund no longer existed!

The train I took to Kilkenny had a group of people on their way to Dublin to protest the pension thefts.

I left the town of Waterford and boarded the two-hour bus ride into Cork, which resembles a miniature San Francisco, with hills and stairs, which I especially noted and felt in my legs while hauling my backpack and dragging my suitcase! Today I am staying in a youth hostel. My female roommate was Alex, originally from Australia. She currently lives in Bangkok, about forty-five years of age. She claims she books models all over the world, and this ability to channel happened about three months ago.

Alex had been visiting Cork for a week now and has invited me to a local pub. The bartender is from New Zealand, extremely handsome and comedic.

Alex had also met an Irish local, whom she had met the night previously. He sauntered over to the bar to talk to us. He was handsome and bald. We were all talking, except between the New Zealander, Irish, and Australian accents, I had no clue what they were saying.

The handsome bartender got my attention and said to me, You have no clue what we are saying, do you? He claimed that it took him six months to figure it out. Next to the bar was an old jukebox on the wall, a modern version though. This Irish doughboy with red cheeks walked over to the jukebox and began choosing songs, then he leaned over toward me and proudly stated, "I picked out that song! It's called ‘Simple Minds!' I turned toward Alex, the bartender, and we busted up laughing. Talk about simple minds!

The