Blatant Exposure

(My first writing for this blog)

By Nicole Hilton Friday, July 13, 2018

I asked God once,

Why oh why God did you give me such a need to expose myself, such blatant honesty…and this incessant need for recognition?

He answered back, or at least I thought He did:

I know your loneliness is excruciating.

Your need to be known is both human and divine. Good will come of this if you are honest because you seek to point others to the truth. Good will come from this if you come from a desire to connect others to themselves and to God.

But evil will come from this if you seek to expose the faults of others. Evil will come from this if you seek to exalt yourself above those who are in need of your love.

After getting that from Him, I really have no idea if this blog is inspired or not. I know it’s been growing on my mind for years—yet I’ve been afraid to start. I’m afraid of my pride, mostly. I’m afraid I’m feeding my ego—this monster inside of me which might grow bigger and bigger with any recognition I receive—until I have a massive fall and I might be lost from beholding God forever.

I’m also afraid there is no one out there who will resonate with what I write. That I am completely alone on this Telestial plane. That it’s just the angels, God, and me who gets the complex glorious chaos that’s bursting like paint balloons inside of me—and thus inside of the whole Universe. That no one will accept the part of themselves that is me. Or at least that’s how I think about life, anyway.

But I need an outlet. And if one person out there gets it—if they understand what I’m trying to say—then it’s worth it, isn’t it? I hope it’s you I’m writing to.

Exposure

People don’t want other people to know everything about them. I’ve never understood this. I desperately have always wanted everyone to know everything about me—warts and all. I used to think the root of this desire was pride and a desperate search for validation, because I wasn’t giving enough to myself. I know that those two things have something to do with it…but even deeper than that, I think I want this open exposure because it reminds me of Heaven.

In Heaven, you are surrounded by other people who are on your level, or who come down to your level. You know them, and they know you. No words need to be spoken. You just…read. You read others like books, or see in them every truth they are attuned to. You know each other. Communication there is clear and simple, yet complex and astounding at the same time. And nothing is ever a one-way street. I was known through and through, accepted, and unconditionally loved. Everyone I was surrounded by I knew, accepted, and loved as well. The connection there…the knowledge that we were all separate and distinct, yet one, was a level of comfort completely incomprehensible to the human mind on this plane.

In this life, I don’t remember exactly when or who taught me that God sees and feels everything we do. It’s been ingrained in me since I could grasp rudimentary English. It’s probably the first abstract concept I held in my head. What? There’s someone out there who is all-knowing, all-powerful, and is watching my every move? From within AND without?! 

Then I heard about Adam and Eve in the garden. They were completely naked before God—yet they walked around with him openly and unashamed. I remember being naked in my room when I was five and feeling God’s eyes upon me—and turning to recoil into the corner or into the bathroom, or into some clothes. Yet this recoiling wasn’t natural to me—I had been taught to recoil and hide because I was naked. Over time, I realized that there was no running or hiding from God. No matter where I am, or what is covering me, God can see my physical nakedness.

He can also see my emotional, mental, and spiritual nakedness as well. To this day, I’m shocked that some of the very people who taught me that God sees all still try to hide things from God or themselves.

I want to say, Don’t you see that you are naked? That everyone and everything will be exposed at the last day?!

God says that He will “remember <our sins> no more.“ I don’t know if that means the rest of us will.

Yes, I’m one of the annoying ones who will chat your ear off about themselves til the cows come home if you give me half a chance, a listening ear, and an understanding eye. But these people are few and far between. Through the years, and as I’ve integrated many of my “littles”, I’ve slowly—very slowly—realized that not everyone wants to hear everything about me. This was shocking to me, but now I conform to standard social cues…most of the time. Now, I hope that I want to know everything about others that they want to share with me. About you…eventually I think I will. I think we all will.

________________

Thursday, Sept. 29th, 2022

Now, five years later, I understand why God gave me this gift of blatant honesty.

I just need to keep reminding myself that “there are no shadows in Heaven”.

________________

Monday, October 10th, 2022

And now I understand why I have such a need for others to recognize me. If you have this need as well, just know for a fact that you were seen in Heaven.

Voice in the Bed Next To Me

Nicole Hilton, June 6th, 2018

            This morning, between sleeping and waking, I heard an audible voice in the bed next to me. It was the most natural thing in the world and I didn’t question it at all.

            We were singing and I was laughing—I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. I sang the first two verses with the person:

It’s just the first minute of this YouTube movie

Bravely bold Sir Robin 
Rode forth from Camelot. 
He was not afraid to die, 
Oh brave Sir Robin!
He was not at all afraid 
To be killed in nasty ways. 
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!

He was not in the least bit scared 
To be mashed into a pulp. 
Or to have his eyes gouged out, 
And his elbows broken!
To have his kneecaps split 
And his body burned away, 
And his limbs all hacked and mangled 
Brave Sir Robin!

            And then I realized I didn’t know the third verse, yet the person next to me kept on singing it word for word. I laughed in delight and listened to this:

His head smashed in 
And his heart cut out 
And his liver removed 
And his bowels unplugged 
And his nostrils raped 
And his bottom burnt off 

And his—

            Then, I interrupted in my best British accent and stopped the song, just as the cowardly Sir Robin does in the movie. We both laughed.

            The person next to me started to randomly talk about a TV show where they show people how to master skills. I realized it was a male’s voice—he had a sonorous beautiful amazing voice.  He was talking about the episode where they teach you how to walk on your hands, and how he and his son were watching it and had tried to learn how to do this.

            I opened my eyes and rolled quickly over in bed, looking beside me. No one was there and the voice had stopped.

            After writing that, I searched online for this show. It was called Tricky Tutorials and was a British show. The episode was Walking On Your Hands Tutorial with Tim Shieff. At least, that’s what I believe the show is—I could be wrong.

Saturday, October 15, 2022         

            So what does this have to do with Healing With Christ? In your healing journey, you’re going to run up against a lot—and I mean a lot—of question marks. It takes major faith to go day in, day out, without some of the answers you’re searching for. Answers that you just don’t understand why Heavenly Father won’t answer just yet—not when the answer would seemingly help you along!

Faith is definitely a muscle that you’ve got to keep building. Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother know exactly what courses you are taking in your life that are building that faith muscle. Everything is perfect for you right now, even in it’s imperfection. Everything will happen in it’s time.

            I still don’t know who was singing in the bed next to me. But I know that someday, all of my questions will be answered fully.

            Because we will all be able to dive into our Personal Pensive up in Heaven.

Life Coaching

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I’m charging an introductory price of $30 a session, which will start at 45 minutes.

If you are interested, please email me your name, your phone number, and a date that works for you, and I’ll get back to you.

My email is NicoleHilton144@gmail.com

And my Venmo is Nicole-Hilton-2

Thank you! Let’s Ascend Together!

First Vision Day

By Nicole Hilton, Friday March 27th, 2020

                  On March 26th I had my own experience of meeting the Father.

I had gone to bed quite late. JJ tucked me in and then left to sleep on the couch (I was staying at “our” place during the coronavirus epidemic, and we were quite happy for the time being), and I went to sleep without medication. (My “core personality” was fronting, and felt so relaxed and peaceful at our home we’d made together, that I had weaned off of my sleeping meds.)

                  I woke up on the morning of the 26th for the second day in a row around 4 am. This was becoming a habit! I knew 3-5 in the morning are the hours of the day where the veil is the thinnest—so I thought, am I going through a spiritual awakening or something?

                  I was so tired that I decided to take an Ambien and get back to sleep. But, as I was laying there, I felt the other dimensions around me and the bed was “breathing” underneath me.

As the Ambien started to take effect, I realized that I wasn’t falling asleep immediately. When this happens, and I’m awake while on Ambien, it always enhances my ability to feel other dimensions even more.

                  So, just laying there, quite by mistake, I went into a trance-like state and fell down through into a lucid dream. While in this lucid dream-like state, I found myself in a car full of young men all joking and laughing. We seemed to be going on a road trip. I was in the spacious backseat, between two of these young men. I was completely conscious and aware.

                  Somehow, I knew what I should do. I closed my eyes and, inception-like, I fell even deeper down into blackness. I started following my imagination. Shifting images that were fuzzy appeared in my line of sight. I followed them until, somehow, I entered a scene that was very real, indeed.

                  In another dimension, I found myself sliding, buck naked, down a gigantic pink marble waterslide into a huge pool of water.

                  “Aaaaaaaaaagh!”

                  I splashed into the pool, but then I came up laughing. I hadn’t felt this joyous and free in a long time! Then, I saw marble columns rising above me, and a huge hall, which had been made into a large and exquisite bathhouse.

                  But no earthy bathhouse could be made to look like this. There were dolphins swimming in the pools of water, and a school of fish swirling in a beautiful vortex of water through the air.

                  At that moment I thought, “I want to swim through that school of fish,” and then, I was immediately taken there. I swam through the fish and they weren’t scared of me—somehow I even knew they were happy to see me!

While I swam through them, I looked at my cloud of hair swirling about my face, and then down at my body. It was absolutely perfect. I couldn’t believe it.

                  I laughed, and then I heard another voice laughing—one that was deep, rich, and warm. I looked up and saw a throne up on the other side of the slides. Immediately, I was standing there before it, dry and wearing a beautiful white dress.

                  There was a glorious man on the throne wearing a white robe, and who had white lustrous hair and a beard. His blue eyes were twinkling at me.

                  “Welcome home, Daughter!”

The next scenes were a blur—probably because they were so sacred. But I know I greeted Heavenly Father, and I actually rested my hand on His knee. He was so happy to see me. I was so aware of the experience that I thought, I am actually doing this! I am remembering this!

                  I was given to know that I was in a palace of my own creation, and it was a popular spot for other children of God to come visit.

I was ecstatic! I zoomed through the palace. I was truly…well…like a dog with a squirrel.

                  “Oh, what’s that!”

                  “I wanna see that!”

                  “Ooh, what’s down there!”

My thoughts were racing a million miles a minute, getting reacquainted with the palace I had created. Everything felt like déjà vu. Right when I saw my creations, they seemed familiar and bright—like they had been waiting for me all this time. No dust here. And no maids, either.

                  And the best part? Everywhere I went, any outfit I wanted to wear came upon me.

                  A sapphire blue gown with diamonds sewn into the bodice!

                  A soft yellow goddess gown with birds embroidered on the hem!

                  A white gown with a cape made of floating pink rose petals!

                  I had an intimate knowledge of every single fashion I had seen on earth, and my own creative force put hundreds of beautiful gowns on my body during my visit.

                  I was aware that the Father could see me exploring the premises, no matter where he was sitting. He was with me, delighting with me.

I seemed to have liked marble columns and levels at least six stories high, with lots of stained glass ceilings and sunlight filtering in through tall windows. And every inch of the place was covered in symbolism.

                  One of the first things I explored was a cavernous hall which had the entrances to rides every ten feet or so.

                  Every time I asked a question, the answers were given to me. I wondered about the rides—which each had a “theme” and which disappeared either down into the depths of the earth or out to the grounds outside.

                  Pure knowledge entered my mind—the rides were for other people’s entertainment, and each was about something I had mastered or an experience I had been through.

                  I was so excited, I could hardly stay put or even talk to the hundreds upon hundreds of people in this hall who turned, or kept on appearing because I was there, or who tried to greet me. Everyone was laughing, with shining eyes and a warmth, which said welcome home, we love you and your creativity.

                  I was given the knowledge that, in heaven, I was known as someone who had a great imagination and who was highly inventive, all while being artistic and meaningful with my beautiful creations. 

I raced to another part of the gigantic palace. It was a sort of library, but not any kind of library I’ve seen on earth. The library was six stories high—all the way to the ceiling, and had rows upon rows of sculptures on all the levels.

                  As I examined the sculptures, I realized that each “set” was of a family eating around a dinner table. As you looked at the black obsidian sculpture, you were given knowledge about what culture the family was, what they were eating, and what they were talking about. It was like a thousand little snap shots of families eating their food at home.

                  I giggled at this and realized I must have been obsessed with food for far longer than this earth life!

                  I then zoomed to another area, which was up by the ceiling in another part of the palace. Everything here was Japanese-style.

                  I looked down and saw a beautiful green kimono come upon my body. I walked out onto the roof, where there were terraced gardens.

                  While leaning over a bonsai tree, I was suddenly aware of some evil spirits racing towards the palace. I stood up and turned around.

                  I saw the spirits break through a sort of force field, which was around my estate, and immediately large angels in white appeared, with swords which glinted like fire.

                  They tried to keep the evil spirits at bay. I realized that the evil spirits were there for me.

                  I stood there calm as anything, watching the battle progress. I thought, “I wonder if I could help out?”

                  As soon as I wondered that, I became aware of a power inside of me. I started to wield this power, and all of time and space became subject to me. I “paused” the scene, and raced around the battle, hitting each evil spirit where I knew it would hurt.

                  They couldn’t die, but they could be hurt enough to where they didn’t ever want to come back again.

                  I went back to where I was standing before, and time “started” again. The righteous angels were all halfway through a jab or a thrust with their swords, but it wasn’t needed anymore. The evil spirits turned and flew up, back the way they came—crying!

                  The angels turned toward me and I smiled.

                  “It’s about time!” a blonde angel said.

                  They all chortled and I laughed as well.

                  I decided to sing them a song in gratitude. I started singing, and my voice was clear as crystal. The notes flew through the ether, bathing everything in light and sound.

                  Here, I “woke up” a level above me, in the car. I opened my eyes to see all the young men around me staring at me, their mouths agape.

                  I said, “What?”

                  “You were sleeping.”

                  “And singing! Wow, I’ve never heard a voice like that!”

                  I smiled, but then desired to go back to my palace. I closed my eyes, and dived back down…

                  Here, I was in a part of the palace that wasn’t finished. There was still room to grow and create and have fun!

                  I did an inventory of the entire palace in my mind, and I realized there wasn’t anything dedicated to, funnily enough, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show outfits.

                  I closed my eyes, and envisioned exactly what I wanted in this part of my palace. Then, I opened them. There were double doors right in front of me, and I knew there would be pink marble columns, a catwalk surrounded by mirrors, and every amazing outfit from all the fashion shows displayed in neat rows on the other side.

                  Excited, I sent out an “invitation”—sort of like a “mind-wave”—into the universe. Anyone want to try on all these outfits with me?

                  Instantly, one of my best friends in the entire universe popped up beside me. We greeted each other ecstatically, and then walked through the double doors and had the time of our lives!

                  I must have tried on at least 200 outfits, we had music going, and a camera hovered in the air, taking snapshots of our poses. I thought, I wish my husband was here to see this!

This was one of my favorite outfits I tried on 🙂

                  Somehow, there, I was already married.

                  I don’t have memories of the other rooms I explored. But what I do remember is that there was a feeling of love and absolute acceptance of who I am. This permeated heaven.

                  Later in the morning, I shifted through the layers of reality, left my palace, and went back into the car with the young men. Then I left that dream, and woke up in bed.

Notes from talking about this with A, a woman-who-is-a-friend:

  • Him having a throne in my house means that it is a temple of heaven
  • Can represent a house of my ancestors
  • What do we do in the temple? Redeem our dead.
  • House represents my spiritual attainment, my growth, but also my family house
  • Devils could be ancestors who don’t want changes.
  • Ask: what else I need to know
  • Questions and Answers from September 11, 2022: Just who was the best friend who showed up with me and tried on all those outfits with me? It was your best friend of friends, ________, who has been through many different lifetimes with you.
  • Does everyone have this large of a palace in Heaven? If they wish or desire it, but many of the people in Heaven don’t want this level of creation, because of what it entails
  • Does everyone who is LDS have this level of palace in Heaven? Heavens, no!!! In fact, you’d be surprised how few LDS people actually want this level of creation
  • Who the crap is my future husband, who created all this with me? I cannot answer that at this time. Not because you aren’t prepared for the answer, but because you will, undoubtedly, be sharing this online.
  • You’ve got that damn right.
  • You swore…
  • HA!!! “I love our little intrigues together…”
  • So do I, my dear, so do I.
  • May every person who is reading this have this level of correspondence with you?
  • Yes, but it’s not up to you. It’s up to them.
  • I hope they choose to. I do hope so. Because nothing has been more joyous to my soul.

Courage and Validation

By Nicole Marie Hilton, October 19th

“You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren’t alone…

“Everyone has the right to tell the truth about her own life.” ― Ellen Bass

“Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive. When someone enters the pain and hears the screams healing can begin.”

― Danielle Bernock, Emerging With Wings: A True Story of Lies, Pain, And The LOVE that Heals

It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men. —Frederick Douglas

New Logo!

by Nicole Marie Hilton, Wednesday, October 12th 2022

Today my heart is so full. God truly knows exactly who we are, and what we need in every moment. I know that this is true from the bottom of my heart.

In the space of one week, I’ve moved out of my parent’s house into a long-term care facility, made new friends, gotten a new phone, started my Healing With Christ business, made a shopify account for my business with 44 new products (as of typing this), done a bunch of integration work for my littles, and created a new logo–which I’m OBSESSED WITH!

All I need now are customers!

I’m so excited and blessed to be alive!

Praise God Almighty for knowing exactly who I am, who Kyle my new best friend is, and our talents and how we can make the world a better place, together!

Here’s the final logo–it is reminiscent of Esther (because she is forever associated with the Peacock as her symbol), and meditation, as well as the number 10 for her feathers. “What Does the Number 10 Mean in the Bible? 10 is a ‘perfect number’ that represents wholeness, law, discipline, and integration. It’s been mentioned a total of 242 times in the Bible, making it one of the most used numbers in the Scriptures. The number 10 is used to represent God’s authority and His divine government in all of creation.”

I’m here to create beauty, love, and happiness for everyone on this planet–and that includes you!

And God knows exactly how I’m going to do that. All I have to do is take it one day at a time.

Thomas S. Monson Vision and Others As Well

By Nicole Hilton, June 4th, 2018

            Last night, after we had three sets of people from different central American countries over for dinner and I drove one of them home (D—I tried to help him also with his suicidal feelings), I still felt depressed as I sat downstairs in my rocking chair. Mom sat there next to me. I said,

            “I just want to leave. I’ve never ever healed here. I’ve only gotten worse. Why am I back here?”

            Mom came to my side and knelt down. “Did you ever think that I need you here?”   

            I raised my eyes to meet hers. I didn’t want to start crying, but I started to. Really? I thought. Could this be?

            “Nicole, I know I’ve helped you so much…but you’ve helped me just as much as I’ve helped you.”

            How? I just take and take and take. Does my mom really need me here? Do I have anything to contribute?

            We stared into each other’s eyes and it was a sweet and tender moment for us. I tried to believe her—I wanted to believe her.

            I went to bed with a mixture of prayer, hope, and sadness in my heart, still very much confused about which path I should take, what my purpose is, and plagued with feelings of depression through my whole body.

            Then, President Thomas S. Monson came to me in a vision at 4 AM. The dream/vision seemed to be more of my version of true reality than this world has ever been.

            I was upstairs in my old bedroom—the one with all the clouds painted on the walls. There was a bed in the room and it felt like the safest room in the house for me. I think that’s why Heavenly Father chose it as the scene for this experience.

            I was reading my scriptures and suddenly, there was President Monson, who has just passed away some months ago! I started up to my feet, surprised. He smiled at me as if to say, Well, why are you surprised?

          I felt like I was still 29 years old, but also like a little child. I oscillated between the two states of being and stood there excitedly, wringing my hands in a childlike fashion, stepping from one foot to the other.

            “Oh, dear President Monson!” I said. I ran over in front of him and looked up at his kind wrinkled eyes, then we hugged. I was surprised and absolutely delighted. “Well, I’ll just sit down here…” he said, sitting upon the hardwood floor up against the wall.

            “What? Are you sure? Please, come sit on the bed! What about…?” I was going to say, your old bones, but then I blushed and I didn’t.

            “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said. I think he knew exactly what I was about to say, and he found it funny.

            He seemed to enjoy sitting on the floor. I ran around the room, gathering up every pillow I could, and I stuffed them behind his back and under his knees as respectfully as I could. Since pondering on this, I realized that he sat on the floor because I normally like to sit on the floor…and he knew it.

            This was no ordinary dream…it was a full-blown vision. I could tell that he was way more than a figment of my imagination. His great spirit filled the room and I felt so happy. Later, reading in How to Receive Your Second Comforter, this passage perfectly explained the experience: “With the spiritual eyes, in vision, they [your angelic visitor] will be glorious and brilliant, but you will feel comfortable in their presence. You will know it is a real experience, because the clarity and fluidity of thought and communication will be sublime, invigorating, and sacred.”

             I knew the Holy Ghost was directing this vision and I was, indeed, meeting with a prophet of God. What a guest of honor! Here in my own bedroom! And to think…for some reason I feel perfectly at ease in his presence! I was shocked that I didn’t feel at all shameful or uneasy in the presence of this great man. I was especially surprised that Heavenly Father had sent him, because I never really had had a strong connection with him as a prophet. I had followed him as best as I could, and I appreciated him, but I hadn’t felt the same for him as I had felt for President Hinckley when I was growing up.

            Yet, my small testimony grew greater moment by moment while he sat there before me, until it grew into a sure knowledge—this was one of God’s prophets for the latter days.

            I sat on my bed, nervously at first—yet still delighted he was here. He started talking to me in his kind story-like manner. He asked me a lot of questions. Questions like, “How are things at the DI?” and, “Are you worried about the volcanoes and earthquakes in Hawaii and South America?” I replied that working at the DI was very hard sometimes for me, but that I was grateful for the friends I’ve been able to make there and people I’ve been able to help, and that I wasn’t worried at all about the devastating volcanoes but that I hoped the tribulations would come quickly. I chatted away about wanting to live in the terrestrial world.

            He chatted away, too. He was everything a kind and considerate grandparent should be. I knew he knew everything about me—he’d been briefed on my life and sent here by the Savior Himself to chat with me. I knew this through and through. I was delighted that I was getting the kind of attention I have so longed for and desired in the past couple of weeks. I was thrilled to be talking to someone I knew I could trust completely. I knew that this man could, indeed, speak for Christ and that I could be myself with him. There was no pretense—no falseness or hiding as I sat there with him. I felt a huge burden being lifted off of me. I realized that here was a man in front of my very eyes that I could be 100% genuine with. No one—none of my mentors even—had earned that kind of trust with me.

            I reflected later on why that is. Why do I feel so out of place in this world with all its people—even the ones who have the kindest hearts and intentions? I realized… it is because I don’t trust a single human being completely. They haven’t seen my life or really known what I’ve been through. Yet I knew, looking into President Monson’s kind face, that he had. And I wanted him to—I wanted him to read me like a book. I felt I had nothing to hide and everything had been forgiven by my Savior. Here was evidence right before my eyes.

            He put me perfectly at ease with his easy going and amiable manner. I wish I could remember our whole conversation. He spoke about deep things of the heart—things I yearned to speak about but hadn’t been quite able to express to others in the world.

            Then, he quoted something to me (I wish I could remember what he said). I was sitting on the bed with my hands on my knees. “Do you know which section of the Doctrine and Covenants that’s in?” I gripped my knees tightly—oh no! A test! I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind: “D&C 88?”

            “That’s good. You remembered!” He laughed a bit. He knew and understood about my memory problem! He smiled and then I rushed to get my scriptures and we studied, I believe, verses 11-13 together.

            After thinking about this part of the vision, I realized that it was an assurance from God to me about my memory. There is no way normally I could have recalled a chapter or verse from the scriptures—though I’ve tried to memorize them many, many times. Here was clear evidence that everything I have learned was still there, being kept safe by Jesus Christ and accessible with the Holy Ghost’s assistance.

            “Actually, I think that the whole of Section 88 would be good for you to study,” he suggested. I took him very seriously and I said that I would study it, and take it personally to heart.

            He said so many kind things to me, and complimented me. He was informed and open to talking about anything I wanted to talk about. He understood.

            Soon, almost crying, I couldn’t help but join him on the floor and embrace him. He held me for the longest time, and I cried with joy. I felt like a child in his arms—like his most beloved granddaughter. I finally knew this man was a prophet from God! And Jesus Christ had sent him here to comfort me and instruct me!

            Soon we held each other at arms length and just looked at each other with pure love and adoration for each other.

            He had been speaking to me for about 10-15 minutes—much longer than any previous heavenly visitor I remember experiencing (except for Christ in the jail cell). I assumed that he’d be there forever—or for a few more hours at the very least! I got up and turned to call my mom or my brother Daniel to come and meet the prophet, but then when I turned back to the wall, he was gone.

            I woke, or came out of the vision, at 4 am, the sacred hour when the veil is the thinnest.

            It took time to reorient myself in this realm. I had just been physically cuddled by President Monson as if I were his two year old grandchild! For about a minute I didn’t realize I was alone in my bed in 2018. I was soaking up so much love from the other side of the veil and I was basking in it.

            I then realized I’d had a sacred dreamalthough, really, I think it was traveling to an actual place or dimension prepared for my spirit, to meet President Monson. I realized that I needed to record it before it faded away. Already, specific bits of our conversation were fading fast from my memory. I recorded the dream or vision as best I could and then I read D&C 88.

            I felt the spirit deeply when I read about being a part of the Church of the Firstborn…I had the spirit testify to me that those first verses held meaning for me—especially when I was working out the next day. I still didn’t really believe it. I also felt Jesus Christ teaching me about the light which is in my eyes, and urging me to increase in His light. I marveled that I had seen God moving in His majesty and power. I knew that the day was going to come when I shall be able to comprehend God and be “quickened” by Him. I felt a personal charge from Christ to “labor in the field”. I knew that I needed to continue to seek, ask, and find Jesus Christ…and that He would reveal Himself to me in my own “season”. I learned about how to pray better. I was charged to continue in the prayers and fasting I had been doing, and to not be weary or give up.

            Prepare to magnify your calling whereunto I have called you, and the mission with which I have commissioned you.

            Not many days hence, the earth shall tremble and real to and fro.

            Above all else, clothe yourself with the bond of charity. Pray always. I come quickly.

            I felt that night and all through the next day that I had received a divine commission. But, for what? To be a missionary at the DI? To write? To move to Farmington, or to stay here and try to heal at home? To be a missionary for my ancestors on the other side of the veil? To get my second comforter—again? What?

            Even though I was still confused, I went through the day as if I was walking on air. I didn’t want to stop having these experiences. I don’t. I want to get to the point A— is at—to have visions and to be that close to God every single night. To receive that kind of comfort daily. I don’t want these experiences to be few and far between ever again.

            After pondering this some more, I watched a video online entitled President Thomas S. Monson: On the Lord’s Errand. Emphasized again and again was the fact that President Monson was always known for ministering to the one. He was pure charity and genuine love. At the end of the video, I felt to write down a quote which answered part of my question of what my divine commission is.

            “We read in Proverbs the admonition, ponder the path of thy feet. As we do, we will have the faith—even the desire—to walk the path which Jesus walked. The Savior’s example provides a framework for everything that we do, and His words provide an unfailing guide. His path will take us safely home.” His words stirred my soul. I felt the spirit saying, there are always reasons I send specific people to you. I sent Joseph Smith to you to teach you about temple prisons. I sent Enoch to you for very specific reasons, and because his weakness and your weakness of feeling unloved, unwanted, and unable to speak were the same. I now send Thomas S. Monson to you because he was in the business of writing, reading, and being on the Lord’s Errand and administering to The One. Study the lives of these great men, and you will be led along the sure path back into my presence in this life.

            I have, both before and after this vision, studied the words and lives of Joseph Smith, Enoch, and President Monson. I will continue to do so, and I also look forward to further study of D&C 88. I was surprised to find out that the “Olive Leaf” section of the Doctrine and Covenants was the very same one in my study with Lynn’s group of the “40 Points of Sanctification”.

            A few days later, after sending Teri Stephens an excited message about Thomas S. Monson visiting me, she surprised me further by telling me that WINGS, the healing modality she uses, was developed around D&C 88, and that there is a WINGS training at the end of this month! I go to see her on Friday, and she has invited me to do Theta Healing on her in exchange for an hour long massage and WINGS session. I will talk to her about taking her course then, though I can’t imagine how I will afford it. That’s never stopped you before, has it? The Spirit says. It’s amazing how the Lord leads me.

            Further dreams happened that night after my vision of President Monson. They were sweet and very vivid, but didn’t have quite the same “flavor” as the Monson vision. It was like I was getting glimpses of the future, but through a dark glass.

            In the first one, I was sitting on a beach somewhere with very beautiful people around my age sitting along with me. We were talking and laughing. They were not LDS, but very in tune with Spirit/Love and meditation—new age type people. I mentioned that I was Mormon and they were shocked. Then, to my great surprise, after talking some more, a beautiful girl and (I think) her boyfriend both volunteered readily to come to church with me. There was no having to convince them or do traditional missionary work with them…they recognized my light, they had been prepared, and they were ready.

            The dream was so sweet and I wanted to stay in it, however someone was tapping me—tap tap tap!—on my collarbone trying to wake me up. I didn’t want to wake, yet I finally did in frustration. I woke, inception-like, to find myself in yet another dream/possible future event.

            I was laying down staring up into my brother Daniel’s face.

            “Welcome to the 1800’s!!!” he cried, joyfully.

            What?

            I sprang to my feet. I was surrounded with 6 or so men and women, including my brother, and they were all beautiful and young. They laughed at my surprise, and briefed me on what was happening. We were in a Victorian-style house, in the parlor, awaiting a family to come home. I’m not sure if we were ministering angels, if we were translated, or if this occurred before my lifetime right now and I was remembering this, or we were sent back during the 1,000 years of peace to minister to this family. I’m thinking it was the latter.

            “Just whisper whatever the Spirit tells you to in their ears. We are going to help them with—“ and then one of the people told me the family’s problems. These other angels felt like they were my family.

            We all understood each other, and my memory slowly came back. These were my best friends and family in the whole world! I was so loved by them! I was on a mission, and I had a divine purpose! I was needed!

            I gazed into a mirror, and I saw the same beautiful Nicole that I saw in my vision of the cave. I was thin, with perfect skin, and long wavy hair which had a chestnut and blonde hue.

            The family came home—a mother, father, and their sick son—and I tried my best. I stumbled over many things and I was very awkward.

            One of the angels was a great singer. He started to sing truths to them. I had a feeling that, in another dimension, there were Satan’s angels trying to sway the family to their side, and we were providing the opposition to that. I was delighted to realize that we all had distinct gifts in waging this war against the adversary, and that I had gifts to offer as well!

            I eventually got my bearings, and my voice came back! I started to remember how to sing pure frequencies and intelligence into the air, and my voice was ringing with purity and light. I sang to the family, and the mother started to become aware of me because she was more in-tune than the other humans.

            I can’t remember much of the dream, but I know we helped them.

            After the family left the parlor—and I believe their son had been healed, the mother turned around and said, “this is for the awkward goddess who has been singing in my ear all day,” and she set a golden pin shaped like a rose upon a seat.

            They closed the front door, and it was truly like a party in there. We celebrated with much laughter and hugs all around. Daniel was prancing around being entirely silly, glorying in our accomplishment. Daniel, the other angels, and I were so filled with bliss and pure joy, which comes from accomplishing a great work and bringing souls back to God and a better state of peace and health.

            We knew our current assignment was over, and we were going to go back to wherever we came from. I picked up the pin.

            “Can I keep this?”

            The leader of our group smiled. “She gave it to you, didn’t she?”

            I tucked it into a pocket. I had the sense that I had a home I was going back to, and many treasures such as this, which were the beautiful trophies of jobs well done. Then the vision ended.

For Those of Us With Suicidal Ideation in Psychosis

By Nicole Hilton, April 22nd, 2018

And they came over unto the other side of the sea, into the country of the Gadarenes, which is over against Galilee. And when he went forth to land, there met him out of the city a certain man, which had devils for a long time, and he would wear no clothes, neither abode in a house, but in the tombs. And no man could bind him, no, not with chains; because that he had been often bound with fetters, and chains, and the chains had been plucked asunder by him, and the fetters broken in pieces; and he brake the bands, and was driven of the devil into the wilderness; neither could any man tame him. And always, night and day, he was in the mountains, and in the tombs, crying, and cutting himself with stones so that no man could pass that way. But when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran and cried out and fell down before him, and with a loud voice said, What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the most high God? Art thou come hither to torment us before the time? I adjure thee by God, that thou torment me not. (For he had commanded the unclean spirits to come out of the man.) Jesus commanded him saying, Declare thy name. And he answered, saying, My name is Legion; because many devils were entered into him….And [Christ] said unto them, Come out of the man….and [the people] came to Jesus and saw him that was possessed with the devil, and had the Legion, sitting, and clothed, and in his right mind; and they were afraid. And they that saw the miracle, told them that came out, how it befell him that was possessed with the devil, and how the devil was cast out, and concerning the swine. Then the whole multitude of the country of the Gadarenes round about, immediately besought Jesus to depart from them; for they were taken with great fear. And when he was come into the ship, he that had been possessed with the devil, spoke to Jesus, and prayed him that he might be with him. Howbeit, Jesus suffered him not, but said unto him, Go home to they friends and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee. And he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis, throughout the whole city, how great things Jesus had done for him; and all that heard him did marvel.

Like Uchtdorf, I’m going to use airplanes to illustrate a principle.

Everyone’s journey through life is like flying an airplane.

Some flights are a slow and steady rise with a bit of turbulence.

Some skyrocket up to the sky.

Some meander around in loops and circles.

Some come so close to the ground the watching crowd is left breathless. They might even lose a wheel or two, or dent a wing.

But the pilot’s airplane is still fly-able. They can still work their way—however slowly—up to the sky. They have that ability. They have their gift of Agency.

For those of us with mental illness, which brings us to the point of suicide or leaving our bodies because of the pain, it’s like a violent plummet downwards, resulting in a terrific crashing and burning.

Then we are told we need to pick up the pieces and actually make that shell of a burnt out plane sky-worthy again.

How can this be possible? When you lose your mind, your ability to reason—to have agency with the body you’ve been given, it’s analogous to an engine burning out or being struck by lightening and falling from the sky.

Of course, there were things you could have done to prevent it from happening. But that’s all in the past, and now you are plummeting straight for the ground and you hit it like a meteor.

Miraculously, some survive and leave the burning wreckage, only to have to turn around and head back into the fray after the plane is cooled down enough.

How can one pick up the pieces and become sky worthy again? Have you seen the photos of such airplanes? It seems impossible.

But the Father and the Son are the greatest mechanics of all time. They can do it. They have done it for me, and they will do it for you.

I say to my dissociated parts or to people who are reading this who have dissociation, go back into the burning airplane.

Have Faith.

You will be put back in your body, and the Father and the Son will give you that one percent of agency back with which to fight.

They will send angels on this side of the veil.

They will send angels on the other side of the veil.

You’ve got to fight.

He will put out the flames. He will command the metal to eventually resume it’s original pristine shape. He will command new elements to be built into your aircraft. And you will be more glorious than before. I know this from experience.

And you’ll fly as high as you want to go.

From the Dust: My Susa Young Gates Experience

By Nicole Marie Hilton, September 28th, 2016

On the 21st of September, I found myself leaning up against the face of a granite headstone, reading an old book whose spine was so broken and cracked with age I had been surprised to find it. But there it had been—nestled on a common shelf in the Americana Collection of the Harold B. Lee Library. The book was a first edition of a pioneer novel, entitled John Steven’s Courtship: A Story of the Echo Canyon War. The modest headstone on which my back rested against was tucked away in an obscure corner of the Provo Cemetery, and it bore the name of GATES. Below her eternal companion’s name was the name of Susa Young, 1856-1933.

I had approached Susa Young Gates’ grave—the author of the novel in hand—that overcast day with mixed reverence and curiosity. And I would leave my graveside meeting with her almost overcome with respect for her artistry and her testimony of God. Despite life’s worst oppositions, hers is a voice which, “crying from the dust,” still has the power to teach and to instill courage in the beating hearts of today.

Susa’s life was rife with golden achievements. Better pens than mine have shed illumination on her successes and triumphs as a women’s advocate and suffragist, an educator, leader, missionary, and pioneer at the turn of the century. She has been described as “the most versatile and prolific LDS writer ever to take up the pen in defense of her religion”.

But, even more compelling to me in my studies, was the anguish of heart that she carried with her throughout her life, and the concrete resolve—cemented by her unwavering faith in Jesus Christ—which lent bravery to her words and actions, despite this ever-present anguish. She lived her life with vision—her actions wouldn’t make sense to one who hasn’t gazed through an expanded Gospel lens.

Months before, I had first seen her face on a poster. I couldn’t shake the feeling, despite being completely unqualified, that I needed to learn and write about her. I had the feeling that I knew this woman, a feeling inexplicable.

I learned, to my shock, that I share many experiences—and even an ancestry—with her. It is common knowledge among the BYU community that she lost eight children to divorce, accident, and illness—facts which haunted her during life. But she also endured six miscarriages—a pain I have also felt. Like me, against her parent’s wishes, she married as a teenager and suffered a heartbreaking divorce five years later. And, like me, she suffered an emotional and physical breakdown, which halted her life—and her mission—for a time. In all her behavior, she was a walking contradiction—a “study in contrasts”: she could be compliant, yet inflexible, sweet yet saucy, unorthodox yet traditional, impatient—yet kindhearted. In my own struggles with bipolar disorder, being a struggling writer, and living a life full of my own contradictions, I saw myself in Susa Young Gates. I felt that if I shared similar sorrows with such a woman, perhaps this meant I could also have the courage to continue and to endure amongst my own trails.

Her father, Brigham Young, commented that reading a novel—let alone writing one—was akin to “swallowing poisonous herbs”. Susa delighted in adhering to his counsel—that is, unless her integrity demanded otherwise. True to form, Susa wrote two glorious novels—novels full of romance and action, words replete with substance and life lessons learned the hard way.

Leaning against her gravestone, I looked over the top of the book, which was falling apart. In contrast, with each new page and passing hour, her noble character fell together a little more for me. I imagined her figure—always so upright and stately in photographs—stooped over one of the small, weathered markers before me, weeping over yet another beloved child, laid to rest in the same ground I sat upon. A line from her book applies to her, and to all of us—the many Latter-day Saint women struggling with illness and loss: she grieved as deeply as she loved. Despite being shattered again and again, Susa still saw the beauty in life and lived it to the full with love.

She lived her life with conviction, too. Her life and her novel testified to me that even though we experience guilt and heartache, broken promises and even death, the power of God is manifested in His ability to take our broken lives of sorrow and make them extraordinary, even joyful.

I realized that the bones crumbling into dust beneath me were much less of Susa Young Gates than the strong presence I felt beside me. Her words were a comfort to me, a fellow traveler going through parallel life experiences. Generations separated us, and yet we were as close as two friends could be.

It was then that I decided to finally try my hand at writing, and trust God to turn my paltry efforts into words that could, perhaps, influence some girl far in the future who might need them. Who knows? Words have a strange way of resurrecting, speaking as voices from the dust. Turning the last page, I sighed and looked about me, the sky darkening. I decided to arise. I would arise a better woman, with a more fervent faith in God and a resolved courage to face whatever life would bring me.

Susa Young Gates, my first cousin, five times removed, said it best through one of her characters, “I have proved that God will help even the weakest of us to improve and get strong, if we will continually seek Him for help and light.”

She did, and I will too.

Nicole Marie Hilton, 27, is an aspiring writer who has been attempting to graduate from BYU from 2007 until this year. She has struggled with bipolar and panic disorder, a broken back, divorce, homelessness, and has been in and out of many hospitals, padded cells, and jails throughout her struggle. Each of these has become a Temple Prison for her. She considers the current health of her brain as her greatest success, one which has been gained through continually seeking the face of her Savior, Jesus Christ. The talk, “Like a Broken Vessel,” was inspired, in part, by her story. She will finally graduate as a BGS student, English Emphasis, Spring 2017, ten years after her journey began. Her current favorite scripture is Isaiah 52:2.