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Chapter 21. Writing our own books...

    For a long time, we lounged on our couch, with our arms around each other.
It felt good to sit together like this, feeling our mutual warmth and love, after all the powerful emotions and startling revelations we had been through.
In silence, we basked in our feeling of togetherness...

    Slowly, the room got dark, in spite of the candles, so I stood up and switched on a couple of lamps.
Little Harry lit a few more candles and renewed the incense, while John and Davey searched my CD collection for some soft background music.

    We returned to our couch and sat down again, leaning into each other.
Marveling in our togetherness, we stared at the flickering candle flames and listened to the music.
Each of us dwelled in our own thoughts, again going through everything that had transpired.
What a special feeling it was, to know that we all were related to each other in one way or an other...
Why didn't we remember each other before?

    After some time, little Harry suddenly started to think aloud:

    "Dad, I have thought a lot about memories... Even in our Gypsy camp, I always wondered why we cannot remember our past lives just like that, without the help of some Wise Person.
"Of course, our brains from our past lives are gone, taking their memories with them. Our new bodies created new and empty brains, without any recollections whatsoever.
"I cannot even remember the first years of my own life, because my brand-new brain was too small to understand everything and had to develop some more...
"Only, in my FEELINGS, everything is still there; and I can still taste my Mom's milk and feel my Dad's tickling mustache, by trying to imagine them.
"At last, I came up with the idea that everybody has at least two different kinds of memories; a 'thinking' memory, and a 'feeling' memory."

    Little Harry paused, and John and Davey stared at him open-mouthed...
I also stared at him in wonder, again feeling very proud of my little soul mate and newly legitimate son.
His clever thoughts about our different kinds of memories sounded very logical.
Boy; could this little Prince think!

    Of course, as a therapist, I knew about the modern insights around our short-term and long-term memory.
However, so far, I had never before heard of a 'feeling' memory...
Yet, there was certainly some logic in little Harry's clever presumption!
I really hoped he would resume his thinking aloud...

    After a moment, little Harry went on, still looking thoughtful:

    "I suppose the 'thinking memory' is the kind of memory used by your brain.
"Its recollections fade easily; and, of course, all your conscious memories are gone after your death when your brain dies too.
"I also suppose that most people only use their 'thinking' memory. That is why they cannot remember their past lives, and why they take the easiest way out by assuming past lives don't exist...
"There HAS to be another memory that contains all our feelings. That might be the memory Jack and our other spirit friends use, because their physical brains are gone...
"While I am in a physical body, my thinking brain always tries to take over, with all its reservations; always being in the way and out-voicing the memories of my heart.
"Still, my soul remembers everything; and I think it tries to talk to me by my 'inner voice' or by my 'conscience', or sometimes by letting me sense what to do and what not to do...
"Only when I listen to my heart, am I able to remember a couple of vague things about my past reincarni... err... my past lives.
"After death, our brain is gone, but then all our 'feeling memories' come back. Then we again know everything about all our lives...
"I suppose our Wise Woman's spirit leaves her body during her trance; and it goes into some 'after-death' reality to contact our past lives and speak to our ancestors and spirit guides.
"What do you think, Dad, could I be right?"

    John and Davey gawked at little Harry in awe, forgetting to breathe...
I too had to start breathing again, because I had listened to our little thinker breathlessly...
Was this little philosopher really only eight years old?
I always thought that I was very bright; but this small boy easily outdid me with his clever logical thinking!
In my own childhood, I never thought about these things, but always disappeared into my room to read comic books...

    I started to doubt.
'Normal' children didn't think about these alternative things!
They ought to play outside, pester each other, and read comic books!
Wouldn't little Harry's profound thinking have a negative impact on his emotional development?
Wouldn't it be better for him to leave the 'important questions of life' alone, until he was grown-up and able to handle these philosophical dilemmas with more ease?
Wasn't it my task, as his new Dad, to prevent him from getting too confused?

    I lifted my little philosopher onto my lap, kissed his head, and told him:

    "Son, I think you might be absolutely right about many of these things. You are a very deep thinker, and I am truly amazed by your clever perceptions of certain questions of life...
"However, you are only eight years old and still very young! Wouldn't it be better for you to wait, until you are old enough to handle these pragmatic questions without the risk of getting confused?"

    My little soul mate turned around on my lap, and stared into my eyes.
His bright blue orbs forcefully pierced into mine, and I almost drowned in their bottomless depth.
They reminded me of the Wise Woman, and I suddenly recognized myself in them as well.
He WAS a powerful shaman, effortlessly reading people's minds...

    I felt him sending me his warmth and love, while he told me:

    "Dad, my small body might be only eight years old, but my spirit is much older! I am a very old soul, and I am only waiting until my body will be strong enough to handle my powers!
"Of course, my brain is still too small; but that is why I am training it, by thinking everything over, and trying to look at things that are way too often taken for granted by others.
"I know what you are thinking now, but don't be afraid. I am my own guide and mentor; and you only have to help me by protecting me from the outside world.
"Be assured that I WILL be a 'normal' boy, and you will have to correct me now and then! But, please, never try to restrict my mental development.
"Daddy, I will always love you, even when I am a Gypsy King; with all my body, my heart, and my soul!"

    He hopped off my lap, and went to the bathroom to have a leak.
I heard him wash his hands, splash his face, and drink some water in the kitchen.
He returned with a happy smile on his face, and resumed his place on my lap.

    I was flabbergasted, and needed a lot of time to pull myself together.
My little soul mate just told me that he was 'his own guide and mentor', and only needed my protection until his body would be strong enough to 'handle his powers'...
My confused brain was still in doubt, but my soul was SURE he told me the truth!
My goodness; who WAS this very special child?
And, who was I, to be his Dad?

    John was deep in thought; absent-mindedly fumbling with a tissue.
Davey stared at his 'brother from a past life' with admiration in his eyes.
I didn't know what to say...
Tenderly, I folded my arms around my special son's small frame, and he melted into me and heaved a deep sigh of content.
His soul might be very old, but his body was still an eight-year-old boy who was a bit too small for his age...

    At nine o'clock, Davey had to go home, and we decided to accompany him.
We went to the hallway, to put on our shoes.
Suddenly, John grinned, snatched the keys from my desk, and put them into my pocket without saying a word.
Hmm... I chuckled inwardly; but decided not to respond, as if nothing had happened.
I wouldn't give him a chance to tell me again that I was becoming senile...

    My threesome put their arms around each other's shoulders, and we left our house to walk Davey home.
I strode a couple of paces behind them, enjoying the joyful sight of three happily chatting friends.

    Suddenly, I had a clairvoyant experience, looking at my three happy boys.
I was sure that, soon, my threesome would turn into a foursome!
I was absolutely sure this would happen.
Only, don't ask me where my certainty came from.
Vaguely, I felt Jack around me, chuckling...

    Mary was happy to see her boy back in good health and beaming.
She invited us in with a broad smile; and went to her kitchen to brew us coffee and fetch some colas.
After she returned, we engaged in some small talk about the weather and such.

    Then, Davey started to tell her about our Gypsy visitors; wisely omitting the part where we recognized each other from our past lives.
Gradually, Mary understood that little Harry was a real Gypsy Prince, and that he would return to his own people when he was old enough.
Davey also told her that little Harry's Grandma, their Gypsy Queen, invited all Harry's friends to visit their camp in the Rumanian mountains!

    Now, Mary started to look very unsure...
Fumbling with her fingers, she told us:

    "Well, I don't know... That Rumanian country is very far away, isn't it? Is it really safe to visit such a camp in the mountains, where Gypsies live in caravans?
"Besides, Davey has never been far from home before. What happens if he gets homesick again, and he wants me to pick him up in the middle of the night?"

    "Aw, Mom... That was years ago, in a stupid school camp... The others pestered me, and it rained all the time.
"Now, I am older; and, of course, I will be with my Dad!"

    "Well... I will give it some thought, but I don't promise anything."

    Of course, we still had enough time left, to convince her to let Davey join us...
After finishing our drinks, little Harry started to yawn and wanted to go home.
We thanked Davey for his invaluable help, and Mary for the drinks.
    Davey threw his arms around my neck, and offered me a big kiss:

    "Goodnight, Dad. May I come back tomorrow, after I had my beauty sleep?"

    "Of course, you may come back. You will always be welcome in our humble home!
"But... do you really think you need a BEAUTY sleep? Isn't that wasted on you?"

    Davey chuckled, and playfully punched my arm:

    "I am sure you underestimate my INNER beauty! Thank you for everything, Dad, and I will see you tomorrow."

    Mary and Davey accompanied us to the door, and waved until we disappeared around the corner.

    Soon after we arrived home, we decided to go to bed.
We were dead tired from all the emotions of the day; and little Harry told us we NEEDED our sleep, to be able to digest our experiences...
I ruffled his hair; and told him that he was correct.
    He smiled at me, and grinned:

    "I know; but how about a BEAUTY sleep?"

    Before I came up with a clever answer, John chuckled and told him:

    "I think YOU certainly need your beauty sleep, because your extremely sleepy facial expression looks like an ugly monkey..."

    "Oh, yeah? Ugly, in whose eyes? Maybe, our ancestors, the monkeys, will regard me as the personification of beauty!"

    "The WHAT?" What the heck is a 'personification'?"

    A moment later, 'father and son' rolled on the floor, playfully trying to pin each other's arms...
Grinning, I took hold of two earlobes, and dragged both of them upstairs and into the shower.

    Twenty minutes later, we were all in our own bedrooms, ready for the night.
Trying to return to our normal routine, I had told my boys to sleep in their own beds from now on...

    John accepted my decision without protest, but turned his back to me and pretended to be asleep when I kissed his head.
My little soul mate protested fiercely, but soon saw that I wasn't impressed by his objections.
Then, he warned me that it could be VERY dangerous to wake a wandering sleepwalker!
It would be better to let him do what he wanted to do...
Even John started to chuckle from his own room.

    Still grinning inwardly, I went to my own bedroom and dived under my blankets.
I switched the lights off, hugged my pillow, and tried to go to sleep.
How long would it take, for my clever little soul mate, to start 'sleepwalking'?
For a moment, I started to doubt...
Had I done the right thing, by forcing my boys to sleep in their own beds?
I hoped so...

    Five minutes later, my door opened, and a little figure sneaked inside and tiptoed towards my bed.
He crawled under the blankets, clambered onto my chest, and put his little nose into my left armpit with a deep sigh of content.
    I chuckled, and asked my little imp:

    "Why are you here? I thought you were going to sleep in your own bed?"

    "Shush! I am sleepwalking, and it is VERY dangerous to wake me up!"

    I couldn't help it... I started to bellow with laughter!
How could I ever deny my boy his safe place in my arms or on my chest...
I put my arms around little Harry's lithe body, and tenderly pulled him closer.
From now on, I would never again deny my boys what they so obviously craved!

    My boy and I were silent for a long time, cuddling each other and marveling in each other's powerful love.
A sixty-five-year-old retired psychotherapist and a bit too small eight-year-old boy, deeply loving each other in heart, in mind, and in soul.
No more words were needed...

    After some time, little Harry tilted his head and whispered:

    "Dad, are you mad at me, for pretending to sleepwalk?"

    "My dear son, I will NEVER be mad at you for anything you do for love! I only try to be a good parent..."

    "But... you ARE a good parent! You are the 'bestest' parent I know!"

    "Thank you! However, I hope that our society will accept that as well..."

    "Our society can... No, I don't want to use bad words, but you know what I mean!"

    "Yes, my dear son. I know..."

    We were silent again.
Both of us were deep in thought, basking in each other's powerful love, warming ourselves in each other's safe arms.

    After a long time of thinking, little Harry tilted his head again, and whispered:

    "Dad? Are you still awake?"

     "Yes, son, I am..."
   
    "Dad, I want to write a book! I am sure we can share our mutual love with lots of people all over the world, by telling them our story!
"Maybe, I can try to write my book in English, because it is the International language; and writing in Dutch, or in my own language, will not reach everybody on our planet.
"Please, will you help me, by translating my words into English? Can we start tomorrow?"

    This was going a little too fast for my old and a bit rusty brain!
During my life, I had thought several times about writing a book... but why be in such a hurry?
Then, I started to think.
My clever little soul mate HAD a point...

    Two minutes later, little Harry and I were enthusiastically planning our future as prolific writers.
We proposed lots of daring ideas, looked at them from all sides, and rejected most of them to make place for even crazier ideas.
Finally, we decided to concentrate on our own lives and real adventures, deliberating about what stories would interest our readers.
We even established a workable scenario...

    Little Harry would write his OWN series of books, for both children and grown-ups.
He would tell them about his birth and early youth in the Rumanian mountains, and narrate his story as seen from his own point of view.
All his books in the series would have the same title: 'Born as a Prince'; but each of them would have a different subtitle.

    His first book would be: 'I am a Gypsy Prince 1 - Heir to the Throne', describing his first five years of discovering life in their secluded Gypsy camp.
His second book would be: 'I am a Gypsy Prince 2 - Our Lucky Mascot', telling about his early contacts with the gadjo world, his begging, and nasty police raids.
Little Harry thought he would certainly be able to write at least seven books...
Wow! He would have quite a lot to write, besides going to school!
We will see...

    I would write MY own series of books, intended to be read by older kids and adults.
My first book would begin with meeting five curious neighborhood children; and end with narrating our writing dreams from this very moment.

    My series of books would be titled: 'Born to be a King'; adding different subtitles to the subsequent books.
MY first book would be: 'Born to be a King 1 - My little Gypsy Prince', describing all about our fascinating adventures, up to this very moment.
My second book would be: 'Born to be a King 2 - My eternal Soul Mate', describing our new adventures, meeting another young best friend, and little Harry's new face.
Many more books would follow...

   The door slowly opened; and John peeked into my bedroom, to look at what we were doing.
Then, he saw little Harry and me, sitting upright and enthusiastically deliberating about how our various book covers should look.
With an enormous smile on his face, he raced towards us and jumped onto the waterbed, making it wobble.
    He threw his arms around us, and remarked:

    "I thought you two would be asleep, instead of telling each other silly stories in the middle of the night..."

    Little Harry wasn't offended at all, but enthusiastically told John about our plans to write two different series of books.
After some thinking and asking a couple of questions, John thought it could be an excellent idea...
    However, he also had a wagonload of new ideas:

    "I am not going to write a book myself, but I want to help you with the lay-out and design of the covers.
"Did you think about setting up an Internet homepage, so that our readers know where to find the next book of their favorite series when it is finished?
"A good site would be www.harryanders.com ; and a useful email addresses could be found on the site.
"Did you think about opening a forum, maybe forum.harryanders.com , where our readers can tell us what they think about our books?
"I am sure our books will soon become bestsellers, and they will be read all over the world! When do we start?"

    Immediately, little Harry and I added John to our small writers' association, giving him his own place as our valuable advisor.
We would keep him informed about all our plans; and he would consider them, discuss them with Davey and the coming new boy, and offer us their valuable suggestions...
John even thought about publishing our own books, after the manuscripts were ready; by using the modern 'printing on demand' facilities...
Wow! He was already overflowing with useful ideas!

    Finally, we decided to go to sleep, because we wanted to be bright and shining the next day, to set up the first pages of our first books.
Both boys cuddled up to me, and I put my arms around them and felt very blessed to have them in my life.
Tomorrow, we would inform Davey about our wild plans; and when would our new boy show up and take part in them?

    Slowly, I drifted off into a restless sleep full of wild dreams...
Of course, I dreamed about our new series of books, advertising them everywhere.
Wherever I went, I wrote their titles down, helped by my little soul mate:

Books for 'grown-ups':
Born to be a King 1 - My little Gypsy Prince
Born to be a King 2 - My eternal Soul Mate
Born to be a King 3 - Starting our New Life
*
Books for 'children' from 8 to 88:
I am a Gypsy Prince 1 - Heir to the Throne
I am a Gypsy Prince 2 - Our Lucky Mascot
I am a Gypsy Prince 3 - Road to a New Life
*
Please, visit our site for more information:
www.harryanders.com
Or, write us an email with your thoughts.

    Finally, my wild writer dreams stopped.
I disappeared into a sound and dreamless sleep, still having both softly snoring boys in my arms and feeling blessed.

The end of book 1...

======================================================

Thank you again, for all your wonderful and stimulating emails!
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I wish you lots of Love in your life, and Profound Peace in your heart.

Harry AnderS, Dutch psychotherapist and writer of 'books with a message'