Three weeks into the three months, of the first time I had COVID, the time before the vaccine came out, I entered a session and my circle of guides flew up and away as quickly as they appeared, disappearing into the sky above me so fast I couldn't tell you if my body was also descending but when I looked around me I was in the bottom of an empty pool, the noonday sky above me and my peripheral vision filled with the color turquoise. 

A single message came through: “You need to heal yourself,'' they said. “You can always come here.” 

I had been asking for a lot of help. My lungs were filled with something thick and malignant that wouldn't be dispensed with, the virus was an unwelcome visitor that had made itself at home in my body. And in this time the spirit world had been very kind to me, the Arcturians bringing me onto their ship, immersing me in the shimmering pink and purple salt water of their planet. But I needed to be alone. The pool stretched out further than I could see, as is often the way with etheric locations, at once an enclosure, and an infinity. So many times I had lain there and let the deft telekinetic skills of skillful etheric surgeons remove blockages, repair tears, break down maleficients. I slowed my breath and tried to remember what that felt like, mimicking the movements with my own proprioception. The sun, in whatever dimension this place existed, was warm, but the tile was cool, its turquoise glaze gently pervasive, filling my energy field with its serene and powerful presence. I reached deep inside myself and could feel my awareness harnessing the power of my breath, honing in to an interior map encoded in my DNA. I envision a prismatic light, traveling through me like the light in a scanner bed, rearranging atoms in its wake, gently washing away what is not needed, sending it to my cosmic compost site, safe in the recesses of the earth.