Out-of-body at the Fullerton Hotel, Singapore

05:58-06:09 Her harbinger commences as she is lying on her right side, this time on the mattress in the spare room. She says the wind ascends in four stages this morning: first, coiling from feet to knees before pausing briefly; then, knees to hips; third, from hips to solar plexus and then finally solar plexus to crown. A picture coalesces and she finds herself body and mind in front of the Fullerton building, ready to gather a few more features for the sketch she began yesterday. After a few minutes, she starts in surprise as someone has approached from behind, disturbing her contemplation with a friendly Hello. She turns to see a handsome, well-presented middle-aged man smiling at her. He is wearing a pair of dark brown trousers with polished black shoes, a brown jacket over a white shirt. She has never seen him before, and can't help but to study him more intently. He's around 5' 8" or 5' 9" tall, with brown eyes and short dark curly hair. His pointed nose and rather thin lips lend him a somewhat feminine appearance, but he's otherwise friendly and evidently a bit mischievous. Sorry if I frightened you, but I was just curious as to why you're gaze seems so far away. She relaxes and tells him she is studying the building for a sketch, not satisfied with her efforts thus far. She has even brought some materials with her and shows him her work. He compliments her and offers his hand. She says his touch is soft, but otherwise his hand is as cold as ice. She knows immediately that he has passed on physically, and she guesses some considerable time ago. Perhaps he has noted her reaction for he remarks how warm her own hands are. 

The Fullerton Hotel

Lady, may I know where you are from? She replies, Please call me April. My home is in the Philippines, but I'm currently staying in Singapore. May I know your name, sir? He answers, My name is Robert Fullerton. I was the first governor of the straits settlements and Penang. She turns and looks at the building with the same name and he anticipates her question. Yes, this building is named after me. Then, Are you from Singapore, sir? He shakes his head. No, actually my home is Edinburgh, in the United Kingdom, although I died in London. Do you know the United Kingdom? She nods, Yes, that's where my husband is from. She asks for his birthday. He nods and says, Listen carefully, April. I was born on 16th January, 1773. My age now is 58, but I'm not living in this world any more. I died on 6th June, 1-8-3-1, in total, over 245 years ago. He spells the numbers out, perhaps thinking she might not remember. He chuckles as she makes a note of this information. They chat briefly and then he excuses himself. He says he has to go and they shake hands once more in farewell. She protests, But I want to know you more. He smiles again. OK, if you remember next time, call for me when you are ready and I will come. Then, he turns to his right and walks along the path under the bridge, his feet floating an inch or two over the ground. He proceeds for a few seconds and then just winks out. Her arm is still draped over the note paper when I bring her a morning cup of tea at around 8am.