The Headstones of Old Town Road: Stepping Out of the Shadows and Back Into the Light
Let me start by stating a simple, undeniable truth: the reason my blog is named Heavenly Notices is due to dreams, visions, spiritual encounters, and a distinct gift I have been given from God.
I first started blogging about my lifelong experiences, dreams, and visions back in September, catalyzed by a life-altering event. My mother, who has long since passed over to the other side, came to me in a profound way to warn me of an impending, silent heart attack. I heeded her warning, went straight to the doctor, and discovered she was 100% correct. That timely medical intervention saved my life. Thus, Heavenly Notices was born.
For a time, I faithfully wrote about these spiritual happenings. But eventually, I backed off. I let the quiet, insidious voice of self-doubt creep in, feeling uncomfortable with how these deeply personal occurrences might be perceived by family, friends, and neighbors. It’s easy to worry about being labeled eccentric, misunderstood, or “out there.” So, I pivoted. I continued to write a private daily journal, but publicly, I shifted gears and began posting decently popular general knowledge human-interest stories. And to be fair, those posts met with some success.
Yet, an uneasy feeling lingered in my spirit. After much thought, deep prayer, and persistently asking God for guidance, I am now switching gears right back to why I started blogging in the first place.
I am a walking miracle, quite literally saved by a message from Heaven. My very first blog entry was titled Miracle on Old Town Road. That miracle—and what happened to me on the operating table—changed the direction of my life forever. By hiding this part of myself, by avoiding this incredible gift and worrying endlessly about what others might think, I realized I was failing my true calling. I will still occasionally write about some of the rich life stories I experienced growing up, but the core of this space must return to its divine roots.
So, effective today, I am pushing forward. I am stepping boldly back into sharing my thoughts, visions, dreams, experiences, and the guidance I receive—mostly at night while asleep. My dreams are often vivid, biblical in proportion, and occasionally hard to understand and decipher. But as I see it, my job is not to have all the answers; my job is simply to share what is given to me and let you, the reader, decide what it means for your own life.
With this newly re-energized focus, I am beginning with a dream and an event that took place just this past weekend. It is a story that bridges the gap not only with the present moment, but also with the deep, lingering past of the land I call home. I have many stories to tell, so let’s begin with the latest happening.
The Headstones of Old Town Road
On April 25th, my wife and I were out riding our four-wheelers around the property. Suddenly, I felt an inexplicable, powerful draw toward a small, dilapidated outbuilding that really ought to be torn down. I drove up to it and cut the engine.
As I looked around the structure, my eyes fell on two unusually large concrete yard markers sitting right beside the wall. They had birds carved neatly into them. They were far too heavy and oddly shaped to be mere whimsical yard art figurines. Looking at them, a heavy, intuitive feeling washed over me: these weren’t garden decorations at all. They were old grave markers, hewn from a time long forgotten. I thought to myself, We should move these this coming weekend and place them out in our front yard since they have the pretty birds on them.
I started up the four-wheeler and drove off, but try as I might, I couldn’t get those markers out of my mind. They haunted my thoughts for the rest of the day.
That night, while asleep, I was visited in a dream by those very stones. A woman’s voice spoke clearly, telling me, “They belong here, they are part of the property.”
I recognized that voice instantly. It was a voice I had heard before—a voice that has actually spoken to myself, my wife, and my daughters on more than one occasion since we moved here. The woman behind the voice is named Margaret. She lived, and ultimately died, right here on this property in the 1950s after suffering a sudden heart attack.
Her husband, too, had met a sudden end on this very land, dying in a tragic tractor incident back in the 1930s. We have had experiences with him as well. In fact, a good friend of mine—who happens to be deeply empathic—was coming to visit us one weekend from out of town. Before making the trip, she dreamed of this exact family. In her dream, the man was standing there with his wife and kids, and he told her directly that “he couldn’t wait to meet her.” When my friend arrived, she called to tell me about the dream. At that point, she had zero knowledge of this family or the property’s rich, tragic history. Yet every single detail clicked into place like pieces of a cosmic puzzle.
I know this all sounds like science fiction or utter nonsense to some people. But to others, it is a quiet, profound daily part of life.
The truth, as I have come to know it, is that the spiritual realm all around us is brimming with energy—some residual, some living from the past. Some souls have not moved on, or perhaps the incidents that took their lives were so sudden, so horrific, that they don’t even realize they have passed. Spiritual energy has the fluid ability to move back and forth, and it surrounds us constantly. Furthermore, we all have generational relatives who have crossed over, yet still oversee our daily lives, interacting as needed and trying to guide our steps in the dark.
There is no doubt in my mind now that Margaret and her husband belong right beside those headstones. I will leave them exactly where they are resting and will not move them for any reason whatsoever.
You can believe what you want. You can dismiss this as a fictional story spun by an imaginative storyteller. Or, you can come to understand that until you have experienced the paranormal and its raw energy for yourself, knowing how it truly works may remain foreign to you.
Either way, God gave me a gift, and I now refuse to hide it. I refuse to stop spreading His light to a world that so desperately needs it. That is my calling, and I will use this blog to reach anyone I possibly can—be it a single person sitting alone in the dark, or millions across the globe.
There is an old saying that goes something like this: “Your opinion of my thoughts and actual life experiences will never override my actual life experiences.”
Welcome back to Heavenly Notices. Let’s walk this path together.
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