An introduction to religious and spiritual experience

Seeing Angels 
Emma Heathcote-James has collected experiences 
from a great number of people who believe that they have been helped by 
angels. Here is an unusual account from 
Seeing Angels 
in which the angel 
is seen by more than one person. The husband relates how he and his son 
were sitting at the bedside of his wife, who had just had an allergic reac-
tion to the anaesthetic of a hysterectomy. 
Suddenly, through my tears, I saw what I thought to be a figure, an 
angel, behind the bed rails – I ignored it, thinking it was [brought 
about by] exhaustion and anxiety. A few minutes later I looked to see 
my son staring at the same spot – he turned to me and asked if I too 
could see the angel behind the bed. That moment the staff nurse was 
passing the foot of the bed and I turned and asked her if she could see 
anything other than us in the cubicle – the nurse smiled and told us not 
to presume it meant the worst. She acted as if this was a normal occur-
rence. I turned back to my wife and watched the figure melt away. 
Literally from that moment on my wife regained consciousness.
107
Here is a case where reassurance was given at a time of uncertainty.
I was in my seventies, facing a major life-changing decision and was 
unsure as to what to do for the best. In the past I had often thought 
that I would love to see an angel but was quite unprepared to open my 
eyes early one morning to see a huge figure in the corner of the room. 
He was almost higher than the room itself, dressed in beige robes and 
had beautiful wings. He was very bright and seemed to shine. I opened 
and closed my eyes several times to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. 

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The angel seemed to be telling me, without words, to be at peace. From 
then on I felt calm and reassured about the move abroad which my 
husband and I were to make, which subsequently turned out to have 
most definitely been the right decision. [005444]
Dreams
Thich Nhat Hanh is a well-known Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, who 
was a peace negotiator after the Vietnam War and nominated for the 
1967 Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King. Thich Nhat Hanh has 
written many books on spirituality and in 
No Death, No Fear, Comfort-
ing Wisdom for Life
he recounted a dream which altered his perspective 
on the death of his mother.
The dream took place over a year after his much-loved mother had 
died, a time when he was still deeply mourning her. Thich Nhat Hanh was 
sleeping in the highlands of Vietnam when he had a powerful dream of 
spending time talking with his mother, who looked young and beautiful. 
When he awoke, Thich Nhat Hanh went outside into the moonlit night, 
feeling very strongly that his mother was still with him. He felt as if the 
moonlight was his mother’s gentle caress. Looking down at his feet, he 
realized that his own body was a continuation of her and his father and 
grandfather, that they lived on in him. He realized that the loss of his 
mother was a false idea, and that she had not left him, but would always 
be with him.
Many people have comforting dreams after the loss of a loved-one.
Twelve years ago my husband died after a most distressing illness and 
many months of growing paralysis. Neighbours and friends were so 
kind, but somehow I seemed numb inside and couldn’t forgive myself 
for not being with him at the end, and I slept badly.
However, the third night after, came my most wonderful dream – or, 
rather, I’m sure it was a vision, as ordinary dreams are so soon forgot-
ten. I dreamed that I was in a large field and crowds of folks were com-
ing towards and passing me . . . but amongst them I was searching for 
one face, my dear husband. Finally, in despair I gave up and went 
home, and in joy I cried ‘Oh you’re home!’ and went to him, and I felt 
the gentle pressure as he put his arm round me (he was so weak).
How can I describe the wonder and glory of his face? The memory 
makes my heart beat so fast even as I write after all this time. His face 
was so young and smooth, and a wonderful radiance all about him – 
even his eyelashes seemed tipped with sparkles of gold. He gave me the 

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sweetest smile, which filled me with the strangest sense of happiness, 
even elation, and then he turned and resumed the same attitude as 
when he died.
I awoke sobbing, but they were tears of happiness – he had come 
back to comfort me and I knew he was ‘home’ with joy and at peace 
with his Lord, who had surely made his face to shine upon him.
Since then, both dear parents and several loved-ones have passed on 
and, apart from a sense of deep loss, I have never really grieved, and 
even rejoiced knowing they were at peace in God’s keeping. [abridged 
from 2604]
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In the following experience the dreams were ‘manipulated’ to try to 
keep in contact with the deceased.
I had lost my father in September 1985, so almost three years 
before, and still missed him. I had taken to trying to go to see him in 
dreams. Every now and again, I would think intensely about him 
before going to sleep, willing myself to go to ‘the other side’ to talk 
with him. This resulted in some very clear dreams in which he would 
walk with me, often through lovely woodland, like near our home. We 
would talk about what it was like for him to be dead. I can’t really 
remember the gist of the conversations, but I would wake comforted 
that he was not entirely beyond reach. He had been a deeply religious 
man, and had always disapproved of mediums, which is why I didn’t 
try that.
In Tioman – a holiday resort island – I tried to dream again. I found 
myself in what seemed like a Middle-Eastern setting but no sign of 
Daddy. I asked a shadowy figure where he was and was told that he 
was sitting under a tree some way away. This communication was 
imparted somehow, words were not really the way it happened. I got 
the impression that I shouldn’t try to see him. I wanted to know why 
the living couldn’t talk to the dead, why those over there were not able 
to communicate with us. The figure said – or imparted – something 
about language, life and death, indicating that the way of communica-
tion was different. He began to rock rhythmically towards and away 
from me, seeming to say ‘It’s like this, like this’ while moving forwards 
and backwards. I woke suddenly to my husband comforting me, ask-
ing if I had had a nightmare as I had been making the most awful 
moaning noises.
I subsequently stopped trying to contact my father that way and 
came to an acceptance of the separation of the living and the dead. 
[005448]

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Dreams can sometimes give messages, and if one is open to that inter-
pretation, a new turn of events can result from a dream.
I was climbing a muddy steep cliff path. I kept slipping back, clutching 
tufts of slippery grass that came away in my hand. I could see the top 
of the cliff, but not what was beyond it, except white sky. I fell to the 
bottom of the path, and started up again, the same thing happened.
On my left, I could see a sort of antechamber with white pillars, 
from which broad marble steps led upwards, parallel to the cliff path. 
There were people standing among the pillars. They seemed to be talk-
ing amiably, they were wearing robes, or flowing clothes of some sort. 
These did not have a formal or ritualistic look, they seemed to be quite 
informal and comfortably casual.
No-one seemed aware of me, still struggling up my steep muddy path 
within a stone’s throw. I went on trying, and failing, to reach the top. 
Eventually I gave up, and, wondering as I did so what would be 
the reaction of these clean, relaxed, sophisticated people if I approached 
them, I abandoned the cliff path and went into the marble hall. To my 
surprise and pleasure, I was able to wander around without causing 
dismay, I don’t remember engaging in conversation, but I felt welcome, 
and even experienced a sense of familiarity in this place among 
these people.
After a while I approached the staircase. ‘So much easier, but 
am I allowed?’ I thought. I began to mount the steps, and found I had 
someone on each side of me, amiably accompanying me. I woke before 
I reached the top. . . .
Two days later I . . . enquired about the MA in Religious experience 
. . . there was a residential the next week, and I should just come and 
join in. that’s how I came to be an MA student, editor of De Numine, 
happily part of the life of TRS. . . feeling I have come home. The signifi-
cance of the dream should be obvious, I’m just slightly disappointed in 
the Lampeter College dress code these days, and I haven’t found the 
marble staircase. [100058]