From Actor to Healer: Alan Rickman's New Life as a Spirit Guide, Book 2

Chapter 7 - Perfume

While preparing for bed later that night, I overheard Alan talking quietly with someone in the higher dimension. Their voices were barely audible, so all I could make out were the words "rat infestation."

I'd never heard Alan speaking with someone else before. I wasn't sure if he'd intentionally allowed that to happen or if it was accidental. Because I was conversing with Alan so regularly now, this could have been a natural evolution of our connection across dimensions.

I didn't know what to think, so I said nothing and waited to see if anything would come of it.

The following morning while I was getting ready for work, Alan's deep voice called out sharply in my mind, "Open Pinterest."

Pinterest is a popular social media site for sharing pictures. Although I have the app on my phone, I don't use it often. So, Alan's request was unusual.

Hoping the delay wouldn't make me late for work, I picked up my phone from the dresser and opened Pinterest. Since I'd looked at pictures of Alan on the app in the past, the algorithm would now automatically display images of him whenever I viewed my feed. So, as I scrolled down, I wasn't surprised that familiar photos of the actor at different times in his career formed a never-ending collage.

But what did he want me to see?

He said nothing more, so I continued scrolling without typing any search criteria. After a moment, an image popped up that I hadn't seen before. Surrounded by photos of Alan was a bright graphic that linked to an article published on January 15, 2016, the day after the actor's death.

I tapped the icon and read the story. It was a beautiful tribute written by Peter Kyle, a British politician and friend of Alan's.

The article(1) showcased the actor's generosity of spirit. Peter explained that Alan had helped him raise money for an aid agency in the 1990s. He wrote:

But Alan would never have been happy just handing over a cheque. . . . he called me up and said a film he was working on had finished ahead of schedule and he has a few days free. So together we flew out to north east Romania to join the team working in an orphanage supported by the money he helped raise. The kids adored him, but the hardened team of care workers did too.

The village we lived in had no running water and he was first down to the spring to collect water for everyone in the morning. He slept on the floor of a school hut with the rest of us; I remember waking up on the first morning to have Alan peer over from his sleeping bag and say in his trademark droll tone, 'you didn't mention that mice would feature so prominently in our trip'. The room was infested and you could feel them running over you at night — I had forgotten to warn him, something he ribbed me about periodically for decades.

That incident was undoubtedly what I'd overheard Alan talking about the night before. All I could make out was something about a "rat infestation." He was planning to show me this article. He must have been so excited that he asked me to open Pinterest as soon as I was dressed and ready to start the day.

Picturing mice running all over Alan while he was sleeping on the floor made me cringe, but I was touched by what he'd done to help his friend.

Alan was like a guide to Peter. The article continued:

At key times in my life, he was always, unstintingly, there. He desperately wanted people to use all their talent and he hated it when friends talked themselves down. Once we were walking down a street and I laughingly said, 'oh the university have suggested I do a doctorate'. He asked why I was laughing. When I said that people like me don't do PhD's and, anyway, I'm not bright enough, he stopped in his tracks and rounded on me. He literally tore strips from me for underestimating my own potential, for taking the easy way out by not taking something tough but achievable seriously. . . . from that moment sprang the first step to me becoming Dr Peter Kyle. I wasn't alone either, there are dozens of people out there who have similar stories to me.