Angels, Demons and Poltergeist

            On the cold Friday morning of November 13, 1998, when my life changed forever, I sat up in bed with the thought; this is the last day of my life. The voice that was whispering repeatedly in my head, telling me, “Regina Leah Cummings, you’re going to die,” blazed into a loud, rumbling thunder. Terrified from the words of the voice, I instantly fell into a temporary mental state of shock.

After sitting there staring into space for what seemed to be hours, allowing the voice to take complete control of my mind, I decided to get my thoughts under my control and bring my mind back into the moment. Coming out of being semi-conscious, I looked over at the clock on the nightstand; it read 7:43 am. I then realized that only a few minutes had passed. I reached behind me and lifted the pillow enough to bury my head under it, hoping this would silence the voice. Seconds after lying there in darkness, I realized the pillow only put me in complete silence with the voice. It only made things worse. Try something new, I whispered to myself. Finally, after minutes of lying there listening to the ringing sound of the voice whispering repeatedly in my head “you‘re going to die,” I decided to try something different. I sat up and put my hands over both ears. Softly I asked the voice to go away, but it remained. Fed up with the disobedience of the voice, I hollered out loudly for it to stop. Quickly, at the demand, it vanished into thin air.

Shortly after calming my confused, puzzling thoughts of where the voice was coming from, I convinced myself it was gone permanently. Still recuperating from the two weeks of drinking and partying, I got out of bed to the cool of the morning. At that same instant, I grabbed my robe and went to the kitchen to start my morning coffee—a routine I’ve had since my early twenties. As the smell of the coffee began to fill the air, I took the spare time I had waiting for the coffee to brew to close my eyes and pray. I wasn’t sure about my connection with God, so I prayed like I’ve never prayed before. I didn’t know why I was having those thoughts, but it caused fear to take over my entire body.

“Open your eyes, authoritatively,” a voice told me. I paid it no attention and remained still. Reassuring me, it repeated softly, “Open your eyes.” Obediently, I opened my eyes slowly. A bright light, brighter than I could ever describe, was sitting near my right shoulder, at a distance. There was no light on this earth that could compare to it. When I turned to look into it, it turned. It would not allow me to look directly at it. I didn’t bother to question the voice about the light, for fear it would answer me. Although the light was there with the presence of peace, the fear remained. Unexpectedly the first voice returned, but this time it spoke softly, “You’re going to die,” it repeated over and over again as if it was singing with the beat of a drum.

Grimness drew in my voice when I spoke. “God, please don’t take me now, give me a chance to become a better person. I’m not afraid to die; I want to see you and your kingdom, but I have so many reparations here before I leave. Please give me that chance.”

Immediately, the voice, the fear, and nervousness went away, but the light remained. Suddenly, I thought of my mother. “I need to go see her.” I poured myself a cup of coffee, blew in it until it was cool enough to drink. I didn’t bother to use cream and sugar; they would only slow me down. With the coffee in my hand, I rushed for the shower.

Shortly after nine o’clock, I arrived at my mother’s house. She opened the door, questioning me. “What’s wrong with you, baby? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, Mother, I haven’t seen a ghost. It’s worse, I’m hearing voices and I don’t know where they’re coming from. After I prayed this morning, a bright light appeared that is now following me around. An eerie voice woke me earlier, whispering to me, ‘you’re going to die.’ Later, after I prayed about the eerie voice, another voice told me to open my eyes. When I opened them, a bright light was sitting near my right shoulder, at a distance. Do you think it could be my guardian angel?”

            “I don’t know, honey,” she replied, “but it sounds like we need to talk.” She closed the door immediately after I entered and lead me toward the kitchen. Inside the kitchen I could see she had been ironing her living room curtains. My mother lived alone, except when my younger brother felt the need to move back home. (This seemed to be every other month.) My dad on the other hand lived on the other side of town, even though he did—they managed to keep in touch with one another almost daily. 

“Would you like something to drink, sweetie? There’s some Diet Pepsi in the fridge.”

“No thank you, Mother, just being here with you is enough. I like being in your company.”

She walked over to the ironing board and began ironing again. I stood there, studying her hand moving the iron up and down the board. I watched as the wrinkles unfolded from the curtain with each stroke of the iron. She remained silent, as if she already knew. (They say a mother knows everything.) “Why are you just standing there? Sit down; tell me everything these voices told you.”

I pulled the chair up while speaking. “Well… one told me I’m going to die and the other told me to open my eyes. I don’t believe they were the same voices. I’m