From Actor to Healer: Alan Rickman's New Life as a Spirit Guide, Book 1

Chapter 16 - Alan Isn't Dead!

As my companion was proving himself to be a caring, hardworking guide, I suspected that the physical Alan had demonstrated a similar work ethic. Because the actor had been widely respected, I wanted to learn more about his life. I felt badly that I hadn't been a fan of Alan's work while he was living, and I wanted to make up for that.

So, while enjoying breakfast on my patio one Sunday in late spring 2016, I pulled up Alan's film history on my phone. I'd planned to watch more of his movies as soon as I could. I noticed that Eye in the Sky, which featured Alan in his last onscreen role, was currently showing in theaters. I wanted to see it but figured I'd wait and either catch it on Netflix or buy the DVD.

As if he'd read my mind, Alan whispered, "Will you go to see it at the theater?"

I sighed. "Alan, you're right. What's wrong with me? I would love to see your movie in the theater. Thank you for asking." I was embarrassed that he had to ask me.

This would be my one and only chance to see an Alan Rickman film on the big screen, as it was originally intended. That was a tremendous gift for someone like me who'd missed his career.

I wanted to enjoy Eye in the Sky without any spoilers, so I closed Alan's filmography page without reading anything about the movie. After searching for show times, I hopped in my car and headed to the cinema.

When I entered the theater that was playing Eye in the Sky, about a quarter of the seats were occupied. I selected a chair in an empty row in the middle of the room. I felt Alan's presence as though he were an invisible man in the seat beside me.

A few minutes into the film, Alan said, "My first scene is coming up."

My eyes widened when Alan's character, Lieutenant General Benson, appeared on the screen a few moments later, talking on the phone. I couldn't believe it. Alan had communicated with me in a similar manner while I was watching the Harry Potter series, only he didn't tap me on the arm this time.

Alan remained silent for the rest of the film, allowing me to immerse myself in the story. I was expecting an engaging sci-fi/military thriller and wasn't disappointed. However, Eye in the Sky gave me so much more.

Part of the story was taking place outside of Las Vegas, Nevada, where I live, while part was taking place in London, England, where Alan had lived. That was an eyebrow-raising surprise. What were the chances that his last movie would link our two cities?

All of the actions in the film were being directed remotely from different parts of the world. That was an uncanny synchronicity, because Alan and I were now working together across the greatest distance known to humankind: the veil that separates the physical world from the higher dimension.

The synchronicities didn't end there. When the UK Foreign Secretary at the tradeshow podium appeared to be nauseated, a horrified woman exclaimed that he was going to vomit. It reminded me of when I'd thrown up in front of my friends Perri and Van the Monday following Alan's death. Alan had appeared in my office earlier that day, frantically waving his arms in my face, crying, "Something's wrong! Something's wrong! It's an emergency!" Alan had known beforehand that I was going to be sick that night.

The scenes where Alan's character was sitting at a laptop in front of three large screens reminded me of my office. I sat in front of a laptop with three monitors on my desk.

I thought of my job again when the U.S. Secretary of State was playing ping pong. Around the corner from my office, a ping pong net had been strung across a rectangular conference table so that employees could play during their breaks. Throughout the day, I would hear the unmistakable sound of hollow plastic balls bouncing against the table. Balls would sometimes whiz into my office, so I had learned to duck quickly. The connection with my job in the film was eerie, because I had met Alan in my office the day he died.

I didn't think any of this was coincidental. The details were too personal. "Alan, these synchronicities are making me uncomfortable," I said. "Did you think of this film when you met me? You knew this movie was set in London and Las Vegas. Did you recognize that connection between us and this film?"

"I did," he answered. "I knew something important had happened when we met. We were supposed to meet at that time and in that way."

One of my all-time favorite songs is "Eye in the Sky" by the Alan Parsons Project. I've loved it since its release in 1982, and I still own a copy of the album of the same name. Because Alan's movie had the same title, the song and the album cover came to mind.

The cover features the famous Eye of Horus, the ancient Egyptian symbol of a large protective eye. This image is also a symbol of the third eye chakra, which represents our psychic center and the pineal gland inside the brain. Photos of cross sections of the brain compared side by side with pictures of the Eye of Horus show that the two look identical.

Because of the song, I interpret references to an "eye in the sky" as a symbol of the third eye and the pineal gland. Now I saw Alan's film the same way.

At face value, Eye in the Sky is an anti-war film. I remarked to Alan that the answer to war lies in the third eye chakra. Answers to all problems lie there. We all have the power to go within and ask Spirit for guidance. As a metaphysician, I believe that answers to the world's ills will never come from outside of ourselves. They will only come from inner spiritual guidance.

Inspired by the drone that dropped a missile on the terrorists in the movie, Alan and I talked about how our work together had blown up my view of the physical world. When you become an "eye in the sky" and take a larger vantage point, you drop a figurative "missile" on fear, ignorance, hatred, and violence—everything that the terrorists represented. The "collateral damage" that gets destroyed along with those illusions of the material world is your innocence—symbolized by the little girl who was selling bread outside. Humbled by your new power and perspective, you'll never be the same again. Little did Alan know when he made this film, he would become an "eye in the sky" after his death.

As the credits started to roll, the house lights came up and people began shuffling out of the theater.

I was overcome with a wave of sadness as large white words appeared on a black background that read:

In loving memory of

Alan Rickman

Seeing those words was surreal, knowing that he was in the room. I wanted to scream to the other spectators, "Alan isn't dead! He just watched Eye in the Sky with us!"

While driving home, a song released in 1995 by the Goo Goo Dolls titled "Name" played on the radio. I hadn't heard it before. Because I'm a fan of 1970s and 1980s classic rock, I don't listen to much pop music from the 1990s onward.

"Listen closely," Alan said. The song was important to him.

I turned up the volume and paid close attention to the words. What struck me was a line repeated throughout the song about keeping someone's identity a secret.

Shaking off a wave of goosebumps, I said out loud, "I understand what you're asking of me, Alan. I won't tell anyone that you're with me. Not unless you say it's okay."