Sunday, July 19, 2009
We drove to my friend Todd’s house in Mountainside late one night, the car taking the curves slowly as we made our way through the reservation. The night was warm with lots of stars in the evening sky. It was just getting dark and I was glad that my friend, Sue, was driving. Our dogs panted happily in the back seat and I fiddled with the radio, just as we turned to head up Todd’s street.
“What’s going on up ahead?” I asked as I trained my eyes on the group milling around the entrance to Todd’s driveway. “What’s with all the people? What do you think happened?”
There was a spotlight on up ahead. No painted dividing line in the road, and the area seemed more woods-like than I remembered it. A man in long sleeve blue pajamas, with stripes, was talking and gesturing with his hands to the woman beside him. She was short and dressed in white. A nurse, I thought. The group looked like they were waiting for something. Had something happened? I felt as if something had. The man turned to face the street and I could see he had short brown hair that was parted on the side.
I didn't recognize anyone. I turned toward Sue.
“Pull up.” I turned back to the window and pointed, but the people were suddenly gone. In a flash…poof! “What?”
“Linda, there is nobody there. What were you seeing?” Sue pulled the car into Todd’s driveway and we got out to join him inside the house.
I recounted what I had seen and said that I felt it had to do with an incident that happened in the area many years before. My reading on it was that there was no paved road and it was not as developed, but more rural. The man I saw was in pajamas and barefoot, and the scene of a fire sprang to mind. He was waiting for help while his house went up in flames. There was no line in the road because this was before 1940, and I feel they were milling around to wait for the fire department to arrive. The man was gesturing as he retold what happened to him to his nurse, as I am sure he was a patient of some kind. Or at the very least, under a doctor’s care.
Was this vision a past experience, which means they were ghosts? Or was this a vision of parallel time and the people I was seeing re-enacting a scene that happened in their lives in the spot where the memory of it is strongest?
I’ve yet to decide. Have you?
Send me your comments.
Monday, July 6, 2009
I try to visit my father, who is in a nursing home, at least once a week. Now that the weather has been nicer, I'm able to take him outside in the courtyard so that he can see our two little dogs and play with them. As I often did, I walked down the hallway, took a couple of turns to the left and headed toward his room to fetch him in his wheelchair. But, on this recent visit, he wasn't in or near his room. I checked the lunch room and the hallways. No Pop. I inquired at the nurses station where he might be. They told me he was most likely watching a movie on the second floor (Amazing that my father is "lost" and no one in charge knows where he is!)
I punched the elevator button and waited for it to come down. One of the residents of the home stood beside me. She was wearing a long-sleeved Minnie Mouse sweatshirt and a pair of black stretchy pants. Her hair was short, curly, thick and silvery, her lips painted a deep red.
"Nice bag," She surveyed me up and down and smiled.
Her hand reached out to touch the beads. "Where'd you get it? Must have been expensive. I would sure like to have that bag."
"I got it at The Mall," I answered while inching away from her.
"I want the bag," she insisted.
"You can't have the bag."
"Give me the bag!" She reached out.
The doors swung open and she quickly moved away, pressing her back against the wall as a young orderly joined us in the elevator. I smiled at the orderly and said hello, but the old woman did not say anything else. As soon as the doors opened again, I flew out of the building to the parking lot and the safety of my car. It's not uncommon to find mentally unstable people in nursing homes. This sweet little old lady might not be able to control her reactions to things, and could do some damage. I kept this in the back of my mind and promised to do my best to avoid her in the future.
I noticed on my next visit that there were no signs of "the Bag Lady" as I referred to her. However, I did run into the orderly again and stopped her in the hallway.
"I haven't seen the woman who was in the elevator with us. I hope she is OK."
She looked confused. "I don't understand."
"The old woman," I explained, "the one who was in the elevator with me when you got on.
"There was no one but you and me in the elevator."
"There was a woman and she wanted my bag."
"Describe her." She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes as if to envision the details to make a proper ID.
"Short, silvery hair, very thick. She was wearing a Disney sweatshirt and black sweat pants..."
"Yes, the mouse on her shirt was Minnie--"
"No, I mean her name was Minnie."
"Yes. She passed away last month."
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Last night I did a telephone reading for an out-of-state client. The reading was moving right along when I suddenly felt an“energy” (spirit) enter the room. I knew it was a male and he immediately made me smile. I asked the client, “Who is Charlie? I think he’s here.” She explained that Charlie was the name of her brother who passed away. That validation opened up the door, so to speak, to communicate with him. I “felt” him laughing and smiling and being quite the jovial one! However, he soon turned into a very “merry” prankster!
I often tell my clients that one of the major signs that indicate the other side is with us, are electrical: lights flashing, phones ringing with no one on the other end, chimes sounding from nowhere, etc. You get the idea!
The moment my client acknowledged who Charlie was, the phone went dead. I went to my recent calls listing and redialed her number. Instead of getting my client, I got a recording telling me how to get my incoming messages! Though it was frustrating, it made sense because the other side was trying to send a message and wanted me to know that was the case. I tried to get my client back on the phone three times, three different ways, and each time, I got the same recording. So, I turned to spirit and said, “Ok, Charlie. Got it. I know you are here. Now let me get your sister back on the phone so I can finish up her reading.”
The next time I dialed, she picked up the phone. I explained to her that I felt it was Charlie playing with us. She confirmed his prankster ways. In fact, as I write this in my home office, every time I type his name, the lights flicker!
We finished up the reading and after hanging up; I leaned over to check my email and heard a male voice sending “commands” on everything I did. If I clicked the email icon it would say, “Email open.” No matter what I touched, the male voice came on in command. And to make matters more frustrating, the volume could not be turned up or down, no matter what I did! I would have “told” Charlie that this was unacceptable, however, I know better…because when you ask spirit, in frustration, to stop (or you yell at them) you can be sure that will only escalate your problem with them.
I asked my business partner, Sue, to come up to my office and see where I would turn off the commands, and she kept asking, “Why are they even on?” I rolled my eyes. She understood immediately and went downstairs to spray the house with our cleansing spray and double dose it with sage smudge right after. When she returned, we went through the motions of finding what was activated, so that I could return my computer to normal, rather than paranormal. As we went through the list of voice activation, we noticed that most of my system preferences there that had been unchecked were now checked! It took about an hour, and I turned off the computer for the night.
The next morning, I started my day with email and all seemed right with the world...until I tried to turn down the music volume. It not only would not go down, but strange looking frames surrounded all my folders and my screen kept freezing. Frustrated, I begged him to please stop, and then called Sue again. We discovered yet another change on the computer. So, I asked Charlie to return control to me. I told him his family loved him and to move along in peace. I heard one word in my ear, spoken clearly and firmly, in a male’s voice: “Write!”
So, here it is. Sorry, Charlie, that it took me so long to get that message, and thank you for coming through to deliver it. For that, I am very grateful.