About sixteen years ago I was living in a studio apartment with an ex boyfriend. One night, or was it morning, he was in the shower and I was sitting up on the bed reading a magazine. The bed was facing the front (only) door. Remember, it was a studio apartment so there was only a bedroom, a kitchen, a closet-ish and bathroom. The door was locked. All the locks. The chain, bolt and door lock. It was Hollywood. Why is this important? Because as Ex Boyfriend was in the shower the door opened. The front door. A man stood in the doorway. An average to handsome looking black man with a short afro and one dimple. He just stood there and mentally told me that his name was Mark and that he was my guardian angel. Then he closed the door and left. I kept reading the magazine. So the male voice never scared me because well, I have a guardian angel named Mark who was there to...to...I dunno, I guess protect me? Besides I've only heard him call my name to wake me up. "Robin. Robin!" He calls me Robin. Still. It never bothered me before. What's wrong with that? My own personal angel to wake me up? Not often, but every now and then.
Mark's voice is not the first. From the time I was a very young girl I used to hear a voice that called me. It sounded very much like my mother. I always thought it was. "Robin. Robin!" She calls me Robin too. Still. Only to wake me up. That's all. We don't converse.
Then I became obsessed, not obsessed...um...passionate about my Aunt Mary. Mary was the first child my grandmother had. She only lived three days. Three days. My grandmother held her in her arms and rocked her not knowing she was dead. Maybe she just didn't want to know. Throughout the years I would fantasize about who Mary would have been. What our relationship would have been had we had the chance to know each other. Then I decided that the voice who called/calls me to wake me up is hers. That, to me, explained why she sounds so much like my mother. Maybe she knows Mark?
This has always been so real to me it never scared me. It just makes perfect sense that I would have a guardian angel and a Baby Aunt Mary to call my name from time to time. It made sense until I was sitting in front of a psychaitrist who asked me "So, do you hear voices from time to time?" And I quickly had to determine if Mark and Mary qualified.