After we moved from Mexico back to Colorado, something happened that I’ll never forget.
It was October. A foggy, cold morning, probably around 2 a.m. I was asleep when I got woken up by a dream. It was a clear message: Go outside. Sit on the Earth. Call in your guides.
At first, I hesitated. It was spooky out there, heavy mist, dark gray, the middle of the night. I sat down at the window seat instead, thinking maybe that would be enough. But the message came again, louder this time
No. Go outside!
So I did.
I bundled up in a cozy blanket and walked outside into the cold mist. I sat down, crossed my legs on the Earth, and closed my eyes. I whispered into the dark, I’m calling in my guide. I know I’m being guided. I want to meet you. I want to know who you are.
I sat like that for about ten minutes in silence.
And then I heard it, the tiniest little meow.
I opened my eyes, and there he was. Mágico. Walking right toward me through the fog, sweet as ever. He came right into my lap and curled up like he had been there the whole time.
I burst into tears. Oh my God. It’s you. Of course it’s you. It’s always been you.
It was the clearest moment of recognition. The simplest kind of truth. My guide wasn’t some far-off spirit in the stars. My guide was already here with fur and a heartbeat, showing me the way through presence, love, and everyday magic.
And he still is. Just in a new form now.
Still guiding. Still close. Always right here, just when I need him.
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