ghost whisperer
My Dad’s Missing Slipper
After my father passed, my wife said that she could hear me talking to my dad in my sleep, both as an adult and as a child. I didn’t remember talking to my dad. Apparently I would talk about my dog when I was growing up, and I would carry on a conversation with him for a long time, as if he was standing right next to me. She said I also mentioned a teacher, Mrs. Whooton, my fifth grade teacher. In time the dreams with my dad stopped, because my wife says she no longer hears me talk to my father anymore.
My sister had asked me if I wanted any of his stuff. I already received a lot from him growing up and before his passing, so I could not really think of anything. But I remembered a pair of very nice slippers my wife and I had bought him for Christmas, shortly before he passed away. Continue reading
Helping A Young Psychic Develop
A young person with a psychic gift must be recognized early on, and nurtured in their development. If not, they may experience a lot of confusion and even trauma. Their gift must be seen and experienced as a blessing, not a curse.
My niece Rachel was one of the more fortunate. She clearly had a gift from a very tender age. When she was a little girl I would give my brother and sister in-law some time off by babysitting Rachel and her older sister. Every time I would go over to their house to watch the kids, Rachel didn’t want me to read her normal children books. She would grab the family photo album and look specifically at old pictures of deceased family members. She would look at these photos with much interest and talk to the people in them as if they were sitting right in front of her. Continue reading
The Disappointed Jesus In London
To be fair, I did not visit to the city of London solely for esoteric purposes, but I found the energy signature quite different and stark there, compared to Athens and Berlin.
I found the atmosphere in Berlin, for example, electric, yet peaceful. Stepping off the U-Bahn at Wittenberg Platz in the middle of the high season, I was engulfed by a comforting low-level hum of German families and tourists doing their Saturday afternoon window shopping. The people here did not seem to have a care in the world. The streets were crowded , much like that of London, but not once did I feel a sense of angst or claustrophobia. The warm buzz was actually quite welcoming and pleasant… and this is major coming from a highly strung empath like myself.
Berlin woke me up on a Sunday morning with the nostalgic chiming of church bells. I was staying inside one of the surviving wings of the Neues Schauspielhaus on Nollendorf Platz, in the Schöneberg district of Berlin. It was built in 1905 as a theatre and concert hall, in the then fashionable Art Nouveau style. Maybe Bertold Brecht was there in the 1920s, discussing his plays with someone in the very room I slept in that night, or maybe the bands Depeche Mode or The Human League used it as a dressing room in the 1980s. While those bells were ringing in the distance, I almost expected Christopher Isherwood’s character Sally Bowles to sneak down the corridor of this old building, back from a busy, decadent night’s work at the Kit Kat Club cabaret. Continue reading
The Haunted Typewriter
When I was growing up my mother had a typewriter that had been in the family for a long time. I never knew much about its history.
One day I was invited to a family reunion at my aunt and uncle’s house. After my mother had passed away I never had much contact with them. We sat around and talked about my mother being a psychic and how she experienced many paranormal stuff as a child. My aunt took out a family photo album she had shown me before and in one of the pictures there was a picture of an old, black typewriter. She told me that it was a 1920’s Royal typewriter and that my grandfather received it as payment for working on someone house. The homeowners didn’t have the money to pay him for his services. Continue reading
I Have No Rest, But Only Turmoil
Recently I was asked to go to the home of a friend who I used to work with. There was something paranormal going on at her house and had asked for my help.
The house is more than a 100 years old and it is divided into three sections, with two upper levels. When I entered the house I felt there was an energy around that was positive and benevolent, but there was also something there that was negative and malicious. It was clear to me that this house was home to some kind of daily spiritual tension or battle.
It was getting close to midnight and I wanted to start taking pictures, both with the light turned on and off. First I lead us in prayer asking for protection and guidance. After the prayer we both introduced ourselves, to let whoever was present know that we meant no harm. I also made it clear that I was going to take some pictures and invited anyone present in spirit to come forward and make their presence known. Continue reading
Psychic Raymond at PsychicAccess.com
He was raised a Christian and grew up in a very “interesting” house in Columbus, Ohio. At an early age, it became apparent that his home was occupied by more than his immediate family members. When things went bump in the night, Raymond convinced himself that his mind was merely playing tricks. But when the nightly visitors continued to make their presence known, he had to face the reality that ghosts did in fact exist and had taken up residence in his house. Continue reading
In The Shadows Of My Psychic Ancestors
Since my mother had passed on I wanted to look in to the history of psychics in our family. I am a third generation psychic, like my mother and my older brother. I have nieces who also have the gift, and so it will carry on into the next generation.
I can remember the point in my life when I saw a ghost for the very first time. I never imagined how many doors it would open for me one day. The psychics before me made this possible for several generations on my mother’s side.
I visited my aunt and uncle to ask them about my mother’s side of the family. There are a lot of things I don’t know about my mother’s family, except them being partly descended from the Blackfoot Indians. My grandmother was adopted so there were no records to be found. Continue reading