Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 2, 4/14 by Estelle Roberts

It is difficult in retrospect to analyze an emotion, especially one which has no other parallel to use for comparison. I can only describe it as a grave and wonderful moment in which I felt as though my whole being had been reborn into a new level of consciousness. I was still trying to adjust myself to what had happened when I saw and heard my guide for the first time. A voice said in stilted, too precise English: “I come to serve the world. You serve with me, and I serve with you.”

I asked, “Who are you?”
The voice replied, “I am Red Cloud.”
As these words were spoken, I saw the top part of a man’s figure surrounded by a halo of white light. His skin was olive-coloured, his eyes were dark, and he wore a small black beard.

In that moment I was aware as surely as if Red Cloud had told me that all that had gone before in my past life – the privation, the long hours of manual work and, particularly, my spirit voices – had been part of a preconceived pattern. And now the pattern was complete. I knew with unwavering certainty that my true mission in life – whatever it may be- had just begun.

A week after I first saw Red Cloud, I invited Arthur, my husband, to sit with me. We drew the curtains making sure that no light from outside could enter, and then sat down on two chairs we had placed opposite each other. Arthur took the bigger of the two, a heavy chair upholstered in leather, leaving me a cheap little chair having a thin wooden seat pierced with an intricate pattern of small holes.

We sat facing one another in total darkness, and awaited some manifestation of the spirit power which I now knew existed. We had not long to wait. Almost at once a brilliant golden light shone down from above my head, enveloping me in its rays like a theatrical spotlight.

Arthur’s reaction was immediate. “Where are you, Estelle?” he demanded. “Where have you gone to?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I had not moved from my chair and I thought for a moment he was playing some game with me. Rather impatiently, I replied: “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m sitting just where I’ve been sitting all the time.”

“But you can’t be,” he said, “Your chair’s empty. I can see it quite clearly the seat, the back, all of it. The chair’s empty.”