A few days ago, we received this heartfelt and moving letter from a Unknowncountry subscriber who lives a lonely life. He had read Anne’s diary from last Valentine’s Day and had a burning question about it, crucially important to his life and his soul. Anne answered that question, I believe, and did it in a lovely, elegant and soul-changing way. So I am very pleased that our correspondent has allowed me to print his letter as an insight. As seems always to be the case with our subtle, brilliant teacher, the insight she gave him emerges out of her own life. When she was a little girl, she was unloved by her father and of course wanted very much to be loved. But until she found me, she was not really loved at all. And then came this love of ours, so great that it has crossed the bridge between life and death.

This one of the loveliest things she has ever done, and I am so very grateful to our subscriber for sharing it.

Dear Whitley:

I’m an UnknownCountry.com subscriber who has

occasionally popped into the chatroom over the years under the moniker
BortherMark.  I have actually been meaning to write you for months, but
something held me back, and after reading Anne’s latest communication I
think perhaps there was a reason for this beyond mere procrastination on
my part.  You see, I believe that this past March I was contacted by Anne,
and in a most unexpected and profound way.
Back in February, after reading Anne’s communication from this past
Valentine’s Day, I was actually a bit downcast about what she said.  She
had mentioned that in the afterlife, those who had not loved sufficiently
in this life become small, pitiful little beings.  This had bothered me,
not because I think I am a particularly bad or heartless person, but
because of the odd life I have lived.  I have been a social outcast my
whole life, a "weirdo" (which of course in the hyperconformist "Land of
the Free" is the worst insult anyone can be given).  I never married or
had children.  I have no girlfriend — I have had very little in the way
of relations with women over the decades despite possessing the normal
longings of a heterosexual male — and few friends.  I am estranged from
nearly all of my family and relatives.  This past Christmas was the
fourteenth consecutive Christmas that I have spent alone in my apartment.
I also spend every Valentine’s Day alone.  I do not say all of this out of
a desire to induce pity or even particularly sympathy, but to put into
context the nature of the communication that I am convinced came from Anne
— the life lesson that she taught me to devastating effect.
So, I was troubled by what Anne had said about the fate of those who do
not love in this life.  For I have *wanted* so badly to love and be loved
back, but for all sorts of reasons that at many, many times have seemed a
kind of curse, that love had always eluded me.  Was my fate, then, to one
day become some sort of miserable nebbish of a wraith in the world beyond,
all because I had never had the chance to love here in this life?  It
seemed so cruel….to be denied love for so long, only to then be
punished, perhaps eternally, for lack of love.  The idea that this could
be what lay in my future haunted me.  I felt that I would rather go into
the annihilation that atheists believe awaits us all than to become some
little forlorn wisp of a being wandering the realms of the dead — that I
would rather not exist at all than to endure such a fate, which struck me
as a kind of death within death.
This had all been on my mind in the weeks after Anne’s Valentine’s Day
message.  Then the miracle happened….the miracle that I view as an
incredible gift, a gift whose bearer, I believe, was Anne.
It was on a Friday night in March, about a month after Valentine’s.  I
laid down on my bed to sleep.  It was not particularly late, perhaps ten
o’clock or so.  I was tired, and quickly fell asleep, and immediately went
into a dream that was more than a dream.  Such things have happened to me
a few times before over the years, as I have a very active dream life as I
suspect many experiencers do, but this was qualitatively different as it
felt completely real, without any dream symbolism at all.  It seemed as
solid and coherent as any episode in a real life.  It was a vision, and a
moment of grace.  This dream-vision lasted no more than ten seconds, but
it changed me forever.
In the dream I was sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar living room of a
house.  It seemed rather a humble place, not very large at all, perhaps
the den of a simple working class home that could have existed at any time
in the past fifty years anywhere in America.  And running in giddy circles
around the confines of this little den was the most precious, beautiful
little angel of a baby girl I have ever laid eyes on.  She was about two
years old, perhaps two and a half, with jet-black hair and fair skin, and
a huge, completely unaffected grin on her face.  She was clad in a little
dark-blue dress over light-blue pajama bottoms, and as she ran barefoot
around and around the room, she kept squealing "Da-DEE! Da-DEE! Da-DEE!"
and giggling irrepressibly.  She radiated pure joy and love in the way
that only a small child can.  She was the most beautiful little being I
had ever seen in my life.  She was my heart and soul.
For a handful of seconds, I was a father.
Then I awoke.  I do not know what woke me….it was as if I was only
supposed to experience the vision of this precious little girl, who I knew
was my daughter, for a brief moment.  To only have the merest taste of
what it means to be the father of such a magical, radiant soul.  I awoke
confused and disappointed, even bereft….I wanted that dream to go on
longer.  I *needed* it to go on longer.  I could have stayed in that dream
Over the next three or four days I felt a sense of grief and loss that
astonished me.  I had never felt such deep emotion for someone I had only
glimpsed in a brief dream — someone who was not even supposed to exist.
Someone who did not even have a name.  But I do not exaggerate when I say
that I very much felt that if that glorious child who I had seen in the
vision was not to be part of my life, if I was never to see her again,
then I did not want to live.  I actually felt physically sick from grief.
That may sound hysterical but it is the truth.  I desperately hoped that I
would see her again, going over various scenarios in my mind as to who she
might have been.  Was this a glimpse of the future?  Was I to one day be
the father of this perfect little girl?  At my age it is unlikely, but not
impossible.  Or was I glimpsing a happier alternate version of my own
life, an alternate timeline, one in which I was a father?  Or could I
perhaps have been experiencing someone else’s life for a few seconds?  As
a young man I was once in love with a fair-skinned, raven-haired beauty.
She was my first real love.  If she and I had married and had a daughter,
that daughter would probably have looked very much like the little girl I
saw.  Or was I seeing Jessica, the girl I was in love with, as a baby,
through her father’s eyes?
The thought that I might never see my daughter again was unbearable,
unthinkable.  I was taken aback at the visceral emotion I felt.  I was a
haunted man for days afterward.  I could barely function.  Until then it
had never occurred to me in my wildest imaginings that a human being can
actually **die of love** but that was what I felt I might do, that I might
literally die, not of suicide, but of unbearable love itself.  An ocean of
love and of sorrow.
In the midst of all of this emotion I thought of Anne and what she had
written about the nature of love and the role it plays in the life beyond.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to believe, and still do,
that the vision I had that night was a gift from Anne.  A cynic would
probably say that my own subconscious cooked up the whole thing, but I
don’t think that is the case.  Since this vision had happened immediately
upon my falling asleep that Friday night in March 2017, I had not had time
to descend (or ascend?) into normal REM sleep.  This signifies to me that
this was more than a dream — that it was a vision of a very special,
almost shamanic, nature — perhaps even one that was somehow implanted in
my mind’s eye.  In its own way it seemed the perfect answer to my troubled
thoughts regarding Anne’s Valentine’s Day message.  It turns out that to
my own surprise I am capable of deep, even immense, love, selfless love,
after all.  I had no idea.  Now I know why, for instance, parents will
bankrupt themselves without hesitation if their child falls ill and needs
expensive medical care.  I had never really understood that kind of love
before.  Now I do.
This may seem like an ungrateful thing to say, but for a while I was not
at all in a mood to thank Anne for the gift that I believe she bestowed on
me that night.  On the contrary, my reaction could be summed up as "Why
did you DO this to me?!"  For at the time it did not seem a positive
experience on balance; it was too heart-wrenching to think of that way.
It was like suddenly, wrenchingly being awakened to a sixth sense, in this
case a sense of profound love, love like I had never imagined.  But over
time, over the next, well, nine and a half months, the same time a baby
takes to gestate, I have come around to absorb and accept what happened
that night.  You’ve mentioned before that Anne was a natural teacher, that
this was her life’s calling.  That has turned out to be my experience with
her too….for Anne knew exactly the lesson that I needed to learn, and
also knew exactly how to teach that lesson, even if it was a difficult
lesson to accept.
As I mentioned above, for all these months I have been meaning to write
you about this experience but somehow I never got around to it.  After
reading Anne’s latest communication, I think now that there may have been
a reason for this.  For after reading what she has to say about the
holographic nature of love, it occurred to me that wherever that little
girl may or may not exist in time and space, the love I felt and feel for
her is real, and as such is linked to all other love in the universe.  To
know the love of a father without having ever been one is a gift beyond
words, and I believe that this gift, this teaching, came from Anne.
Thanks so much for everything that you do.

If you wish to correspond with "BrotherMark," please write Whitley@Strieber.com and we will forward your email to him.


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  1. Absolutely beautiful.
    Absolutely beautiful.

  2. This gift (letter) speaks in
    This gift (letter) speaks in the depth of being where it’s truth and beauty resonate.
    It seems too little to say “thank you” for this profoundly beautiful sharing? However, as with all great truths, thank you is all i have to offer you -Whitley, Anne, and” Brother Mark.”

    1. BrotherMark…….The few
      BrotherMark…….The few times I have seen your posts I assumed you were of the religious order. MONK always came to mind. So, why did you choose that particular name when you post?

      Here are a few thoughts in regard to your current life. Perhaps (and only if) you were a monk in a previous life OR maybe a monk in many previous lifetimes, then, it is possible you lack social skills. I believe we bring many learned things along with us every time we incarnate.

      “Many monks and nuns live in monasteries to stay away from the secular world. The way of addressing monastics differs between the Christian traditions. As a general rule, in Roman Catholicism, monks and nuns are called brother or sister.”

      You said that you dream, do you ever dream of being isolated?

      Every single day do something kind for someone else.

      Nothing is too small, sometimes it might only be a smile of encouragement.

      When you go to bed at night think of that kind act before falling asleep. Let God know you are grateful for having the ability to get out and do this. BE SINCERE.

      Perhaps your life will turn around.

      1. Dear Carollee,
        Thank you for

        Dear Carollee,

        Thank you for your advice. To answer your question about the handle I use on this website, I was actually given that nickname by a psychic healer who I had a few sessions with in 2005. His abilities were quite impressive, and at the end of the first session he said he could see me in several past lives as a Catholic monk or brother. More specifically, he said that he saw me as a brother of the Benedictine, Franciscan, and Jesuit orders, in Italy and southern Germany. He had grown up in Germany himself, after his parents had emigrated there from Turkey. After telling me of these past lives he smiled at me and said, “I think I will call you Brother Mark” (since Mark is my real name). What he had no way of knowing was that I had previously considered taking the vows of a Catholic religious and had looked into all three of those orders (and a couple of others) as potential spiritual homes. I decided to use the nickname BrotherMark on UC.com as a gesture of friendship, to say that I am a brother here and am here to help as I can and not be in conflict with anyone. I have sometimes wondered whether these previous incarnations as a Catholic vowed religious may have created a kind of monk-karma that has followed me into this present life, or perhaps that my previous vows (the standard Catholic monastic vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience) from those lives might still be in effect in this one, even though I have prayed to be released from them.

        1. So, BrotherMark…….When I
          So, BrotherMark…….When I opened my eyes this morning this song is floating through my mind. It appears at least to me that someone/something has your attention and also feels you have been given an opportunity to give (a something?) back to humankind. (Blessings).

          He’s got you and me brother in his hands
          he’s got you and me sister in his hands
          He’s got you and me brother in his hands
          He’s got the whole world in his hands

  3. I also believe I came into
    I also believe I came into contact with Anne about a year ago. I had been struggling with a matter for quite some time that had left me quite depressed and in a state of panic and I wanted to see if she could help me in some way, at least gain some perspective from her point of view. So one night while laying in bed I tried to reach out to her by first doing the sensation exercise and then expanding my awareness as far out as I could. I imagined contacting her directly, then I opened myself up and revealed my full being to her. I also spoke to her in my mind in plain speech what it was I was asking for her. I didn’t know what to expect, but I believe she came to me with an answer that seemed to be so characteristic of Anne the more Whitley talks about her. I was hoping she would shed some light on the current issue I was going through. Instead, what she did was push forward, literally right before my eyes (!), the root of my suffering and a way for me to manage it. How? Not so long after my contact with her, I was working on my computer in my home office and I went to my internet browser to go to my email. But instead of seeing my email, I was seeing a book posted on Amazon called Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert. Instead of being bewildered as to how I got to Amazon in the first place, I smiled, knowing this was no accident. I had never seen the book before and never heard of the author, yet I knew I was supposed to read this book. It was a gift, really. I did eventually read the book and it was helpful in giving me tips and insights since the root of my distress was always, and remains to this day, how my body processes fear. If that was really Anne who responded to me then she did so in a very clever and direct manner that helped me help myself. No soft kisses and warm and fuzzy assurances from the other side. No sir. She presented to me in her own forthright way my underlying issue and a practical way to attend to it. So what does the pupil do when the teacher calls out his name when she is pointing at something on the chalkboard? In my case, I straightened myself up in my chair and said, “Yes, ma’am,” and got to work.

    1. Thank you for posting that
      Thank you for posting that link. When I was a little boy I had a German Shepherd / Black Lab mix named Jack. He was the smartest dog I ever met, and one of the most beautiful. He only lived to be two and a half, passing away in 1981 under circumstances that I won’t go into here. But a few years ago, a psychic (not the same one I mentioned above in connection with my UC.com username) who I had a session with asked me if I owned a German Shepherd. I was puzzled and said I didn’t. She said she could see a very handsome, smart Shepherd hanging around me (in spirit form). She said “I am really liking this dog!” I related this to another psychic, a friend of mine who had introduced me to the one who saw the Shepherd. The friend said nonchalantly, “oh yes, I’ve seen him too — he’s a Shepherd but his coat is mostly black.” When she said that, I knew instantly that the dog they both saw was Jack, for while he basically looked like a Shepherd his coat was mostly black as a result of being half Black Lab. There is no way that either of these two ladies could possibly have known about Jack, as I have never spoken of him to anyone as an adult, outside of my immediate family. So yes, our animal companions stay with us past this life. There is nothing like the love of a dog. 🙂

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  5. What a heartwrenching letter.
    What a heartwrenching letter. And I thought that I was lonely. A very beautiful lesson from Anne indeed, as well as the lesson that I learned from from brothermark! I love this site and Whitley& Anne. Between the two of you, you offer so very much it cannot be overstated. Much appreciated for all you do! I’m outta here, right here right now.

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