Friday, December 08, 2006

A Bad Day

It has been difficult to write for the past few months since I use a laptop and it's no longer possible to keep it on my lap.

At any rate, I couldn't fail to write about what happened early this evening as my Gigi and I waited for Scully to return home.

I was in the living room when she started crying, wailing even. She yelled something about not wanting to be alone.

I ran up the stairs to find tears streaming down her face. She was saying that nobody was around. When I asked her what was the matter, she told me that her television had come on by itself and it scared her.

The television was now off. Her VCR was mysteriously rewinding a tape. She can't reach the VCR and we hadn't had a movie in the machine at all today.

I scooped her up and we sat at the top of the stairs together.

"I need to sit and just calm down, Mummy."

She explained again what happened as I comforted her.

I turned to the room and said sternly:

"You leave my daughter alone. If you cannot stop scaring my child, you are not welcome here."

Gigi was visibly relieved.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

The Pregnant Psychic

The day before I even thought of testing for pregnancy, we went to pick up my daughter from school.

In the parking lot, as I was holding onto her hand, she declared:

"I'm going to be a big sister!"

No kidding.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

The Helpful Wife

Scully tromped through the wilderness with his friends over the weekend, canoeing an hour-and-a-half to his campsite. He was completely out of reach of cellphones and email.

On the way home, he called me from a payphone:

"I should be home within a few hours."

"OK. Wait...I have an impression." A terrifying image followed a mental picture of my husband but I knew that he would be fine.

"There's going to be a very bad accident on the way back but it doesn't involve you or your friends."

"It already happened. A car was half-submerged in the lake."

"Oh. OK." It didn't feel like the accident I was talking about, but, hey, how could I be sure?

When he got home that evening, he told me: "Some guy decided to walk out into traffic... It was a huge accident! Cars piled up, etc." This happened after talking to me.

I honestly don't know why some people think that crossing a highway is, well, even possible. But, there you have it, someone did and the consequent mess delayed Scully's arrival by about two hours.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

On The Phone

I'd been telling my sister for the past few months that her best friend had something wrong with her stomach. Something wasn't right.

Last week, the doctor found something: a bacterial infection.

"You were right," my sister said.

Thursday, September 21, 2006


When clients take the time to tell me how my predictions turned out, I always appreciate it. I mean, people usually just tell other people which -- don't get me wrong -- is a good thing.

I recently helped a client get in touch with a long-lost relative by giving her the name of someone who knew where he was and in which city he could be found. She wrote to tell me that it all played out exactly as I said it would, names and all, and that she was now in touch with the relative.

She was so grateful. I felt all . . . I don't know, just so happy that I could help.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

All Apologies

My absence is inexcusable. I've just been busy both personally and professionally. Still, I should have popped in at least once before now.

Stresses have piled up on top of me and, when that happens, I end up feeling disinclined to write. I should write.

Well, the other day, my daughter and I went to the local bookstore and bought a few interesting titles. Eva Ibbotson's The Beasts of Clawstone Castle caught my eye:

When Madlyn and Rollo are sent to ancient Clawstone Castle they fell in love with it --- especially with the mysterious white creatures that roam the grounds. But the owners are practically penniless and the castle is crumbling away. A magnificent money-making plan is Clawstone's only hope.

Helped by a gang of hilarious ghosts -- including a one-eyed skeleton, a sawn-in-half circus girl and a pair of dancing feet -- the children turn Clawstone into a genuine haunted house! Soon the money is rolling in, but just as things start looking up a terrible fate befalls the beasts. Madlyn, Rollo and their phantom friends now face some very sinister enemies...

We have thousands of children's books and I shouldn't be buying anymore right now but, then, I decided that it would be a good addition.

MacMillan Children's Books
Trade Paperback
London (2005)
232 pp

The Sunday Times
May 15, 2005
Children's book of the week

Monday, August 21, 2006

This weekend

We went to a festival specifically meant for children. There were many activities/stations for preschoolers including a mat full of 'gymboree' toys. Gigi was unimpressed.

She played in a tiny pool filled with toys. She sat at a table and played with an Etch-a-Sketch-like toy. Finally, there was a travelling caravan comprised of instruments which she loved and which was the source of a tantrum.

The sky threatened rain the entire time. So, we headed off to grab hotdogs and make the 10-minute walk back to the car.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

My Lips Are Sealed

You know my ethical guideline about not discussing clients or the details of the sessions when clients come to see me?

Sometimes, I really wish I could. But, I can't.

Friday went very well. I know that I have to confirm my next batch of clients now...

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Ghost Baby

I'm lying in my bed, barely able to open my eyes after a deep nap. My baby (OK, my preschooler) is sleeping in her room, too.

I can hear my sister approaching on the stairs and she starts to head into my daughter's room.

"Where are you going?" I whisper
"The baby's awake." She says, pointing to the room.
"No, she's still sleeping." The room is silent.
"I swear I heard her!"
"You heard the ghost baby."

Monday, August 07, 2006

Never Say Never

I gave in and did a reading for my sister last night. It was her birthday and it made her feel good to know that I was willing to try. It actually went very well. Ah, it softened the blow of turning 30 . . . though that was so long ago for me that I can't remember the pain.

The hard part about reading for family and friends is the ability to be objective. Still, somehow, being close to my sister -- she's my best friend -- actually helped last night.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

A House of Sound

I apologize for the absence. Life happens so . . . quickly.

My house has been kind of quiet as far as ghosts are concerned. After telling a particularly annoying ghost to leave (who, last month, despite a fantastic security system, opened a door to the outside sometime before we all woke up ), there has been nothing very significant around here.

Well, nothing, that is, except for some intermittent banging and loud 'thumps' and the sound of a baby crying. Scully -- who is also my biggest fan -- tried to convince me that the loud sounds originate at a construction site. I know they don't.

My maternal grandmother is making herself known. I don't actually get along with my mother and, about the time that this bout of activity began, we'd had a pretty heated exchange. We are still not really speaking.

As for the baby crying? That's new to me. I heard it just after waking up one evening and it was easy to dismiss as a sleep-related event after I realized that it wasn't my daughter. It's extremely faint and I think my sister heard it, too. (Needless to say, my sister tells me that sleeping over at my house really freaks her out at times. Considering that she's so skittish, I'm shocked that she actually does stay over.)

The only thing that has caused me to raise an eyebrow is my daughter's insistence that she hears noises in her room every night. I've been in a number of times to try to hear them and I haven't detected anything. There used to be squirrels and raccoons climbing around on the roof but, again, I haven't heard them. They may still be there but I think she's hearing something else.

Interestingly, my sister pointed out that my paternal grandfather -- whom I met only 2 or 3 times throughout my childhood -- had the name of Alfred (see here and here). The impressions that I have of the ghost look nothing like my memories of my grandfather: he is young with dark brown/black hair and he wears a white t-shirt. He has a sense of humour and is pretty laid back.

Friday, July 21, 2006

What's Been Going On...

On Monday, we kept hearing large "thumps" around the house. Scully explained that they were the products of construction work next door. I didn't agree. I spend everyday in this house -- right beside the construction -- and, what I heard was the sound of a heavy box being dropped on the front porch.

I was in the bath when I first heard it and thought, "F---! I missed the Purolator guy!" (OK, I swear when I speak to myself.) As I'd stepped into the bath that morning, I'd forgotten about the possibility of delivery. I was awaiting the arrival of the rest of my daughter's birthday gifts and was worried that I'd have to go pick up a large box at a postal outlet with a toddler and a stroller.

Anyway, I jumped out, got dressed and ran downstairs: there was nothing.

The thump occurred at least a few times again throughout the day and I ignored it.

What was very frightening to me -- and it is very unusual for me to be afraid -- happened as I was trying to rest in my bedroom while the baby slept. The air conditioners in our rooms were on but I heard the sound of my living room door open and shut (a door that leads to the enclosed porch).

"Hello?" I called out, leaning over the upstairs railing. Why? I don't know. It's not as if I think a burglar would shout back or anything but what else do you do?

A second later, I slipped down the stairs, ready to close a door or to call 9-1-1, only to discover that all three front doors were securely latched. In fact, the doors leading to the porch have an old-fashioned style of lock that requires much more digital manipulation than those of today. It would be impossible to open these doors from the outside.

Confused, for some reason I chose to ignore my impressions of my maternal grandmother and of another, different ghost. I mean, I saw them but just didn't think about them. It was the day of this grandmother's birthday (which I'd also forgot).

That night, with sufficient responsibilities to erase all-but-essential data from my mind, I went to bed after locking up and arming the house.

On Tuesday morning, I awoke and went downstairs. I couldn't help but scream. The porch door in the dining room was wide open!! How long had it been open? Anything could have happened to my baby, to us, throughout the night.

Scully came down to investigate, assured me that it must have been unlocked but I was unconvinced. I know that I'd locked that door. I know that I didn't open the dining room door at all throughout the previous days.

I believe that my grandmother is here but it's not her behaviour because the activity is uncharacteristic of other visits to others in my family. Someone else is here, somebody more . . . annoying.

Just the other day, last Thursday, I was doing laundry and waiting patiently for my load to finish. After an hour it occurred to me that I hadn't actually heard my washing machine in the longest time.

When I went down to the laundry room, I was astonished to find that the lid to the machine was up -- which means that the machine won't run -- and, thinking that I'd been careless and forgot to actually start the laundry, I went over to put the lid down.

At the panel, I saw that the load was actually almost finished -- meaning, that the load had been interrupted -- and the knob had been pressed down (which means the machine was turned off).

I hadn't been down there at all. My daughter doesn't go down to the basement without myself or my husband and there's no way that she could have reached the machine's lid anyway even if she'd stood on a chair.

So, in the end, I'd forgotten again who I am and what I actually do for a living: If there's one thing I've learnt in the past twenty or so years, when you're doing renovations, activity increases.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

The Cat

At ballet class last week, all the dancers were asked if they had pets.

"Yes, I have a pet. I have a cat. It's orange."
"What's his name?"

Gigi has often spoken of Darfy (whose name is her pronunciation of 'Garfield') and, very recently, I came to the conclusion that it is her imaginary friend.

Scully has told me a few stories over the past couple of weeks that Gigi has related to him. I remember vaguely hearing something about Darfy rolling around and around on her bed.

This means, of course, that I forgot who I am and what I actually do for a living until my sister asked a very poignant question:

"Could she be seeing Avery?"

Avery had been my cat since 1996. He died last year, suddenly, in August. He was, of course, orange. Now, I had to know.

"Gigi, do you have a cat?"
"What's his name?"
"What does he look like?"
"He's orange."
"Oh, where do you see him?"
"He sleeps on my bed. I tickle his tummy."

This goes to show that you're never too old to learn. Or to be humbled, for that matter. I've never believed in 'animal ghosts' before now. I'd always thought that, if you get the impression of an animal, it's either at a distance (and the cat is alive) or it's in the past. She may very well be seeing Avery.

"Do you still see Fred?"
"No, he left my home."
"He did? Where did he go?"
"He had to go to another place."

Friday, July 14, 2006

The Case of the Crystal Skull

OK, remember when I said that I don't stare at crystal balls? Well, that isn't to say that I haven't stared at them.

I have never owned a ball but a former friend of mine in the university days had one. He wasn't psychic to any appreciable degree but he did have a lot of money. He believed in magic of sorts (and I don't). Unfortunately, he spoke altogether too often about Aleistair Crowley for my comfort. In the days that seemed so distant from our common goal of graduation, we met in the evenings and our quiet friendship lasted about four years.

But I've digressed.

I saw it sitting on a glass shelf in his immaculate apartment. He took it down protectively, placed it on the carpet and showed it to me. I think I stared at it for half a second and thought, Poor guy! He's been taken.

Not wanting him to feel stupid, I said:

"Is it supposed to have an image of a skull in it?"

I've never seen fear or shock grip somebody so quickly. His brown eyes stared back at me and I thought, for certain, that I was seeing fear. No, shock. Both? (I couldn't tell which since, if you think about it, they look pretty similar.) He quickly covered the ball up and put it back in its box. Needless to say, I was completely confused.

"You're joking, right?" He asked.

I shrugged. "No. It looked like a green-greyish skull and it looked like it was manufactured that way." His reaction was bothering me. I truly believed in its earthly origin; he was a scientist, why didn't he?

"I've been staring at it for hours and I've never seen anything... I don't want you to look at it anymore."

Umm, I thought, OK.

So, there you have it: my first and only time staring at a crystal ball. What happened that night? I don't know. I'd obviously seen something he'd wanted to see but what was it? I don't know and he jealously guarded the crystal ball, never allowing me to look into it again.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Scary and Good

Anyway, many of you have asked me for details and I think it's time to dish. I want to tell you about the scariest reading that I've ever done. Well, let me rephrase that: I want to tell you about the reading that frightened me the most.

It happened about eight years before I started reading professionally. I'd always read for friends and acquaintances for free. The settings varied: Sometimes they were done at my home, in the university cafeteria (I think) or a cafe.

An acquaintance of mine always wanted a reading and I think I generally declined. One day, in a cafe, I gave in and pulled out my cards. (By the way, cards aren't necessary).

As I lay out the cards, I could feel a familiar anxiety rising in my chest. Voices around me became indistinct as I focussed more clearly on the task at hand.

The reading went along pretty smoothly: I told him about his past and what was going on in the present very accurately. Then, I saw it:

"You're going to be going on an unexpected trip really soon!" I felt a sense of urgency.

"Flying," I continued. "It could be just a couple of days away but it actually looks like a couple of hours away."

He looked puzzled. "Really? Why?"

I didn't know how to tell him so I just said, "It's family-related." Gawd, I had such a sense of dread.

The next day, I didn't think anything about not seeing him. I didn't see him everyday. I didn't even know him very well. I just went about my secretarial job and went home. Days followed days, of course, until I saw him again.

"You were right," he said, a look of fear spread across his face.


"You were right. About the reading. After working that day, I went home and went to bed. In the middle of the night, my family got a phone call from the ---- coast. My grandmother died... We flew out the next day."

I found this frightening for some reason. These days, it's quite commonplace but I was jolted right then. I didn't want to read anymore for anyone.

Of course, you know that I did keep reading but, when I started doing it professionally, I actually called myself the 'reluctant psychic'.


Generally, since my appointments come via word-of-mouth for the most part, people leave pretty satisfied with the reading.

The times that make it seem very worthwhile are those during which clients go out of their way to let you know that they enjoyed the reading, like when they tell you they've been talking about you on the radio or want to do so or when they ask to take all of your business cards (which reminds me: Print up more business cards). Yesterday was just such a day.

I don't need the publicity but it makes me feel . . . I don't know, good and much more enthusiastic about my job.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

All Walks, Just Thoughts

Honestly, getting back to work, I'm not as enthusiastic as I'd hoped to be but I wouldn't say that I'm burnt out anymore.

I can't believe the number of people that I've met: politicians, doctors (academic, medical, and veterinary), lawyers, strippers, heroin/coke addicts, waitresses, psychics, television producers, abuse survivors, depressed people, psychopathic people, psychotic people, social workers, sales reps, horse trainers, carpenters, authors, teachers, dental hygenists . . .

Life is full of interesting folk. My job has taught me that more than anything else. (I also see just how rare psychopaths really are. Of all the hundreds of people I've met, I believe I've only ever come across one. )

I don't think I began giving readings specifically to help people. When I began to see that I was helping people in my own peculiar way, it felt good. I liked it.

When I see signs that I'm helping, I want to keep doing it.

I know that I'm different from other psychics, probably because I'm so strongly convinced that my ability -- whatever you call it -- is biologically based and not the product of some strange confluence of ether and crystal (not -- cough -- that there's anything wrong with that).

I have spiritual beliefs and I don't think biology precludes spiritual reality. I see ghosts and the past and the future because my brain works that way: It enables me to see what others may not. I feel what others feel, even after they've left a room or when they're on the other end of the telephone.

I don't stare at crystal balls; I don't think tarot cards hold any inherent power. I don't think that I'm special. I think I get information and I, ultimately, don't know why except that this is connected to neurochemical events originating in my brain.

All this being said, I hope that my brain works effectively enough to help me drive in the days ahead. I am relinquishing my status as one of life's pedestrians. As my child ages, I realize that I need to be able to get her to her art class, ballet class, keyboard class . . . Somehow, I foresee it only gets busier from this point on.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Your Opinion

I've been blogging in relative anonymity. This blog in particular has received a great deal of attention.

Often, I receive email from people who would like me to give readings to them.

I've been tossing the idea around: On the one hand, I don't want to make this blog commercial; on the other hand, I'm turning down many requests from people who truly want readings from me.

Should I reveal my identity and offer readings from this blog? Looking for feedback.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Vacation Time

I'm tired. I only have two more readings until my three-week vacation starts (and these are booked for today).

I think I'm burning out. I think that I should want to do readings but, lately, I don't want to think about anything.

It could be that I've been extraordinarily busy at home. After my vacation, however, I believe that I'll be enthusiastic again. I've been doing this professionally for a few years or more now. I see a pattern: I'm busy, I get burnt out, and then I rest.

There's something I want to write about here but it'll have to wait until tonight since I have to do my readings now.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Where Is The Love?

So, I’m sitting at the supper table with my daughter and she’s insisting that she’s not hungry, trying to delay bedtime, long after Scully and I have finished the meal.

I can’t help ruminating: My paternal grandmother visited my brother for years and my maternal grandmother still visits and guides my sister. Neither of the two visits me! There have been a couple of isolated incidents. I see ghosts for other people ALL THE TIME but not my own grandmothers?

My preschooler daughter is pushing food around in her bowl while asking me to not be upset that she’s not eating. Distractedly, I assure her that I’m only upset because I love her and I don’t want her to be hungry while we’re all sleeping. Besides, I’m not really upset; I’m worried. By now, I must be staring into space.

“Yes!” I think, “One should have visited me by now!”

Suddenly, the A-string on my guitar — across the room — sounds beautifully and I’m stirred from my thoughts. The very interesting part? The note does not run its course; it stops less than halfway through.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Helping Out

I often wish that I didn't see dead people, especially when I'm asked to help one without really knowing how or why. Sometimes, however, the reason for the request becomes known to me in interesting ways.

Last week, a friend of mine came to me and asked me to find out how he died.

Without having had any of the details of his death confirmed, I strongly suspected that he'd committed suicide. I hadn't seen him in the years before he died -- we'd fallen out of touch -- and I didn't know anything about what had happened.

So, the other night, I sat watching television after midnight. Suddenly, his image kept appearing to me and I tried not to think about him. When I finally gave up or gave in -- I don't know which -- he said, "Find out how I died."

I thought, How do I do that?

Well, without saying I would do so, I went online and found some reports. Apparently, officially, it's said that his death was an accident but I don't believe it. I do, however, believe that he took his own life, now more so than ever.

I get the impression that his request was for me, not for him. He didn't need a mystery to be solved, etc. He wanted me to know, but why?

I believe that he saved my life once, shortly after dying (though I didn't know that he had died at the time). I had fallen asleep with -- gulp -- a cigarette in my hand (back in the days when I smoked). I woke up because a man called my name, my first name. The cigarette had burnt through two layers of blanket and was about to burn my pajamas. When I woke up, I couldn't place the voice but I knew that I KNEW it.

The voice had been loud and had yelled my name directly in my ear. I know now who it was. Since researching in the media to find out what happened, I can place the date on which I was saved from imminent burns after his own death by some months.

He's with me, at least sometimes. It's nice to know.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Ghost Stories

Things have been so quiet, lately. Even my dreams are pretty mundane. I can't seem to watch TV and I always have my nose in a book or magazine. In my spare time, I'm writing or reading and this isn't to say that I've had a lot of spare time.

The "channelling" experience happens more and more to me, too often to write everything down. I don't always pay much attention to it, either. Like so much of my experience in this regard, it has become commonplace.

I remember a fascination with the paranormal while growing up that manifested itself in a desire to read everything that I could. I see now that it was an attempt to understand what was going on. I needed to know that others experienced the same!

When you grow up watching fans having been turned on (while the switch remains in the 'off' position), hearing ghost children running up the stairs and singing, and having ghosts tap you on the head, it's bound to make you feel different from most people. Thankfully, once I discovered that all of my family were experiencing the very same things and once we experienced them at the same time, I felt better.

Until about five or six years ago, I collected every work of nonfiction that I could find on the subject of ghosts. I couldn't help it. I still have so many that I've yet to read. I even collected in the area of fiction. Once I accepted who I was, however, my fascination just kind of ended and I could get on with just being myself. So, devoting so much energy to collecting and reading in this area was really all about finding myself. I guess we all do it differently.

Anyway, as I browsed through a second-hand store on Tuesday, I came across a collection of the ghost stories of Charles Dickens. This time, as I took a book to the checkout counter, I realized that I was buying it because I like the genre.

The Complete Ghost Stories of Charles Dickens
Edited: Peter Haining
Franklin Watts (1983)

Friday, May 19, 2006

Play-by-Play Today

While waiting for my first client to arrive this morning, I'm thinking about the fact that I really would like to clean Gigi's room but can't think when I'll be able to do so today. At this point, her wind-up bunny -- it plays Brahms's lullaby -- begins to play.

I hurry to her room because I'm excited that someone is here. Just as I open the door, the bunny stops playing. Where is it? I have to search for it. It's lying under her table. I pick it up and wonder, "Who is here?"

Friday, May 12, 2006


This morning, my daughter (not quite 3 years old) took me completely by surprise when we had the following conversation:

"Mummy, I'm scared."

"Why are you scared?"

"Because of Fred's shadow."

"Really? Who's Fred?"

"He's a very scary ghost."

"What does he say to you?"

"He says, "Hello, Gigi", just like that."

"Wow. Well, you tell Fred that Mummy says to stop scaring you."

Fred is new to me. Actually, I know of a ghost around here called Alfred (I mentioned him here): He started hanging out here a little while ago. Could she be interpreting his name as 'Fred'? Could he have told her that his name is 'Fred'?

Thursday, May 11, 2006

I'm Back!

For unknown reasons, I've had difficulties posting to this blog: getting logged in, losing data, etc.

But, everything seems OK at the moment.

An interesting anecdote:

My sister, alone at my mother's house last week, heard loud, booming footsteps coming up the stairs on the porch behind her and these were followed by a loud bang on the screen door. When she went to investigate immediately, she found nothing and nobody there: There had been no descending footsteps.

So, the ghosts on the porch are still there. I used to hear them all the time but now, when I go to my mother's house, I rarely hear anything.

My sister also told me that my maternal grandmother visits her regularly. She actually rarely visits ME. She and my sister shared a closer relationship than my grandmother and I had.

I can feel things slowing down for me: not in terms of reading-volume overall but in the sense that June is my family vacation time and I might have accidentally on purpose scheduled fewer readings in the weeks leading up to it.

I generally do more readings per day than I would like to do and I have shuffled the majority of requests off to July.

I've been gardening with my husband lately because 'tis the season. I'm a bit overwhelmed by the amount of gardening that needs to be done. Last year, I had a small baby and I didn't do much gardening at all. The gardens lay barren, practically. Now my baby is a little girl and I've been able to do more work around the 12-or-so gardens.

Though I'm plodding away out there during spare moments, I'm well aware that I'm ignoring what I normally consider to be the spiritual benefits of working the earth and in nurturing seeds to seedlings to mature plants: the biological connection to the earth, engaging in an activity that connects me to the generations before me.

My readings tomorrow are all back-to-back and this will give me more spare time in the middle of the day.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Happy May Day!

The link I used last year.

Now, you're supposed to go roll naked in the dew or wash your face and walk barefoot in it, at least.

A post revisited.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Another Post!

Very early appointments today. I purposely scheduled everything to end by early afternoon so that I could write and practice the guitar and do laundry.

I've been busy securing permissions that I need for the book I'm writing. I had to decide between: (1) writing the entire thing and waiting to get permissions and then editing accordingly, (2) writing to the degree that I have permissions and (3) waiting until I had all the permissions in place.

I chose option #2 because the first would have been heartbreaking had things not gone my way and the latter would have meant possibly blunting the process.

Finally, I have some major green lights in place. Yay!!

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

The funny side of things

I think that being a mother, a homemaker and a psychic all at the same time -- while difficult -- actually has some comical moments. And I also think that it's impossible to separate one from the other.

Case in point?

Trying to book appointments while toilet training a two-year-old: I hope desperately that I can finish the phone call before my daughter starts yelling in the background, "Mummy, I'm pee-ing! I'm pee-ing!"

Monday, April 24, 2006

Nearly Sleeping On The Job

Though I get impressions from many sources, I seem to be overcome lately by a certain type of experience. Otherwise alert, I suddenly begin to feel extremely sleepy. Instead of succumbing to sleep, I get the urge to grab a pen and paper.

I start to write, and feeling more alert, the impression of a ghost occurs and I write what he/she tells me. In the case of one client the other day, I was able to tell her about her life because the ghost (a relative) had messages about different aspects of her life. He even told me what she did for a living.

When all was said and done, this was only qualitatively different from my usual experiences. The sleepiness was new but I'm getting used to it. Ghosts usually do appear but mostly at night or during readings and not often immediately beforehand.

I should be posting more often. Life gets crazy. Sometimes, I feel like giving up readings altogether (like tonight) and, at other times, I worry that I won't be able to keep doing my readings. Neither scenario is realistic. I'm just moody. Especially in the past few weeks. This probably explains my absence.

I think I need to cheer myself up.

Monday, April 17, 2006

A Playful Ghost

Last Friday, before my readings, everything was all set: my office caddy had all the essentials, my recording devices were prepared and waiting . I looked around, satisfied, until my sight landed on the antique green chest: The coaster, my favourite one, was missing.

I knew that it had been there but I launched a search around the house for it. It bothered me that the coaster was missing. When, finally, after searching the kitchen and the foyer, I decided to give up. Maybe I had moved it after all.

When I returned to the living room, I saw it: there, on the antique green chest, was my favourite coaster.

"Who did that?" I wondered aloud.

"It's me, Alfred."

Great, I thought, but I don't know an 'Alfred'. He had dark brown, almost black, hair and dark eyes. He wore a white t-shirt and he was pretty young looking.

"Are you here for one of the readings?" I asked.

He laughed. "I just come when I'm expected to."

That was a pretty cryptic response but, then, I hadn't seen him before and I haven't seen him since that day. So, as my husband suggests, he was probably there for a reading. At least I got my coaster back.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Exorcisms and Aliens

More and more of my days off are being used to fit in readings for people who are waiting and who want an earlier appointment or for whom I might have caused inconveniece by having to reschedule. I'm booked months in advance but if I have to reschedule someone at late notice, then I generally use my day off.

A movie seen recently: The Exorcism of Emily Rose. I thoroughly enjoyed it though I don't believe in demons or in the notion of possession.

I read the April issue of Fortean Times and really enjoyed reading the sections devoted to ufology despite my disinclination to believe in alien-powered UFOs. I want to be open-minded on the subject.

I actually stumbled across this magazine when I lived in London and frequently used to walk down to a major new-book store (whose name escapes me). At the time that I moved back here, I realized that I could ill afford a subscription to the magazine so I intentionally allowed my interest in it to wither.

Of course, this magazine is now available in some stores around the Big City and the Bigger City.

I have a link in my sidebar to the website.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Out and About . . . Ghosts

It has been a long time since my post. Yikes! Times goes by too quickly.

Yesterday, I only had a few readings but they were great. I really enjoyed them.

Ellen Potter's Olivia Kidney and The Exit Academy arrived, finally, last week and I'm trying to find the time to read. I don't have any spare time especially since the weather started warming up this week.

We spent two days at the park last week. So, things like cleaning and laundry really were ignored. We couldn't help it, however, because once she realized how warm it was outdoors, my little girl wanted to go to the park.

There has also been a lot of garden/yard work: raking up leaves, etc. Watching everything come back to life is my favourite part of the spring season. This weekend, we turn the clocks ahead one hour. It's already very light outside at 6:00 p.m. but I can't wait until the skies darken around 9:30 or so.

There's a ghost who sits on the end of my living room sofa recently: a young man in his twenties with light brown hair. He's not there all the time but I've noticed him a couple of times.

It reminds of when I was a little girl. We lived in a townhouse complex and one of my neighbours was a family with two children. The mother fascinated me. She told me often about the ghost of her father in her car and she spoke most frequently about the ghosts around her home.

Seeing the ghost on the sofa reminds me of one of her stories. She told me that she was sitting on her couch one evening, sewing, when the ghost of a woman came down her stairs and sat down ibeside her. Apparently, she, the ghost, stayed there for a very long time. My ghost doesn't sit down; he is already there, on the sofa, across from me. (It's a sectional.)

I was only nine years old. I was friends with this woman's daughter -- whose other child was my sister's age -- but I spent more time in conversation with her than I did playing with her daughter. I loved her because she was so honest about her experiences: She didn't avoid conversation about it, she promoted it.

I'll always remember the story of the smoke detector. One evening, without obvious cause, their smoke detector on the top floor sounded. Thinking there was a fire, they went to investigate. When they were unable to find any reason that it should have sounded, my neighbour's husband grabbed a stepstool, trying to shut it off, and it did not stop. So, finally, he removed the circular top, took the batteries out, replaced the top. That evening, the alarm sounded again. This time, however, it held no batteries!

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Iceland, Ghosts and A Busy Day

So, if you've been reading this blog for a while, you probably know how much I can't stand television shows based on the paranormal: Medium, Ghost Whisperer, Supernatural, etc.

Sometimes, a documentary will catch my eye. This weekend, I recorded one concerning Icelandic beliefs in persistence beyond death and it aired on the Documentary Channel. I've yet to watch it but the television blurb itself described the doc as "uninvolving".

It's entitled, Investigation into the Invisible World:

While scouting locations in Iceland, filmmaker Jean Michel Roux discovered that many Icelanders truly believe in the existence of pixies and elves. Enchanted by the beautiful Icelandic landscapes and intrigued by the sincerity of the people he interviewed, Roux pursued his investigation. The result is Investigation Into The Invisible World, a feature-length documentary about the relationship between humans and invisible beings such as elves, ghosts, angels, water-monsters and extra-terrestrials. (The Documentary Channel)

If anyone has seen it or does see it in the near future before I do, please feel free to tell me about it. Time goes all silly in my home when the lapse between the point of recording to the point of watching a show is measured.

Tomorrow, there are no breaks in my reading schedule at all. I often wonder why I do this to myself: I mean, it's my time, my home. I could control this better but I haven't yet.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Lost Tarot

Last week, I discovered that my daughter had drawn in pen over the backs of the tarot deck that I use during readings. It's really cute but I had to explain to people during readings that the marks had no significance to the reading other than that it meant I hadn't been careful enough.

I discovered the artistic impressions quite by accident. There were no bits of evidence to suggest that the deck had been tampered with at all: It was neatly put away in my "office caddy". (She is extremely neat and orderly, like Scully.)

It's my favourite deck. I hardly use the tarot, really, but, among my dozens of different decks, I like this one the best. So, I had to concede to Scully that I couldn't keep using it professionally and I ordered another, similar deck. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the exact deck. Oh, well.

Hopefully, it'll arrive today.

Monday, March 06, 2006

"I live too much with the dead. My mind is something like the ghost of an ancient, wandering about the world and trying mentally to construct it as it used to be, in spite of ruin and confusing changes." (George Eliot, Middlemarch)

I just love the above passage but it's really only a cut-and-paste fragment and has no meaning to this particular post.

I will be one year older in a few days and I think I'm a bit down about it.

My last post bore complaints but I'm determined to see the good in things.

First, I'm not doomed like Cassandra of Greek mythology. Apollo granted her the gift of prophesy but she was doomed to never be believed. This would have driven the poor woman mad. (Well, this and the fact that she had no fewer than fifty brothers.)

Friday, March 03, 2006

The Weekend Is Nigh

I shouldn't complain but I've got five consecutive hours of readings today without a washroom break. Why was I not more careful in my scheduling? Oh, well.

My readings are an hour long and, once I've started, I'm quite happy while doing them. It's just that . . . beforehand . . . I start thinking about other things that I would like to be doing such as practicing the guitar, reading, writing . . .

I know. I'm very fortunate to be able to make a living doing something that I enjoy. So, shut up, right?

Ugh. It's just one of those days, I guess.

My dreams have been of two types this past week: there are those in which I'm reliving a past life somewhere in the southern United States and others that are filled with vague anxieties as well as shadows of people from this life.

One good thing about today: My house is cleaned for the weekend. There are friends coming over Saturday, family visiting on Sunday . . . If I can just remember to email Scully with a grocery list before he gets home, I might be able to pull off the entertaining successfully.

We're all getting sick again, I think. At least, it's the usual: sore throat, etc. Maybe we'll all fight it off!

Does anybody still read this blog? Just wondering. I know that I only post weekly but, trust me, you would be bored beyond belief if I wrote about every single detail...

Sunday, February 26, 2006

A Conversation About Ollie

This morning, as my mother-in-law listened, my two-and-a-half-year-old and I had an interesting conversation. Within three seconds, I reached for my luckily-nearby digital voice recorder and captured it. While I won't transcribe it verbatim due to time constraints, I'll try to recapture the spirit (...sorry...) of the exchange.

She told us about Ollie, how he lives sometimes behind the door outside (potting shed) and sometimes she sees him in the downstairs hallway. She doesn't like him at the moment. He makes her feel like crying because Mummy doesn't hear him. (I have to assume she feels alone and afraid because she is not sharing this experience with me). He calls her by her first and last name.

At some point, my mother-in-law decided to ask a question. I don't know if she was just trying to make light of the situation, but here's what she asked:

"Does he say 'boo!' to you?"

"No, " my amazing little girl explained. "Ghosts don't say 'boo'. Children say 'boo'." Then, my daughter laughed because she found my mother-in-law's suggestion funny.

Well, I asked her to tell Mummy when she sees him or when he speaks to her. I also explained that, if she felt uncomfortable, she could ask him to leave her alone.

Monday, February 20, 2006

At Home

Ooo, time flies, doesn't it?

I get so caught up in our family schedule that I sometimes forget throughout the day that I wanted to blog.

Things have been busy on more than one front lately. Today, especially, ghosts are active in the dining room. You can hear objects dropping a lot.

Oddly, our little girl, when greeting someone, has taken to announcing: "It's me. I'm not a ghost."

Will write more later.

Friday, February 10, 2006

A Week In

I had trouble getting my daughter off to 'school' (daycare) today. She didn't want to leave so I gave her my leather PDA wallet and asked her to take care of it for me until she came home today. Hopefully, it has done the trick.

Today won't be anything like last week as far as scheduled insanity goes. Last week, I had, perhaps through professional guilt due to taking a vacation, so many clients scheduled for my first day back that I was exhausted by the evening. (I did the scheduling months ago and planned for my vacation at the same time.)

Today, there are not so many.

I suppose there are many perquisites to working at home: I set my own schedule, I can go to the washroom whenever I need to and I can throw in a load of laundry between appointments. The drawback, however, is that my home has to be spotless. If you have even one child, you know how hard this can be.

Anyway, I need to get ready for my appointments.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Back To Work

On Friday, my vacation will have ended and I will be giving readings again.

Unfortunately, January--rather than being productive--was fraught with illness. Finally, after a course of antibiotics, I think I'm better. I think.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Running From The Ghosts

My family was very open to paranormal experiences and, every now and then, each one of us harboured the memories of an event that we wouldn't share with the others.

I was no exception. Whenever there was nobody home, I heard the sound of running on the front porch. I could hear feet running from one end of the wooden porch to the other and back again. This would last for a few minutes. Then, after one last run back and forth, I could always hear the sound of the metal screen door being sharply kicked.

For a while, I didn't think about it. For a while, I'd forget about the porch. Then, when next I was alone, I would hear the running and the final kick again. Eventually, I realized that I could hear the running from any point in the house (and it didn't occur to me as strange, actually).

Then, one day, after my mother left to do some errands, I cranked the volume on my stereo. That was when it hit me: I could still hear the running. So, being as young as I was, I thought that this indicated that I was losing my mind: if it were actually happening, there would be times and places at which I wouldn't be able to hear it. I swore to myself that I would never speak of this to anyone.

One evening, my mother opened my bedroom door to tell me that she was going to work.

"Could you keep your door open for your sister?" My mother asked me.
"Uh, I guess," I replied. To me, it was a strange request.

We lived in an old mid-19th century home. My bedroom was on the second floor directly across from my sister's room. Then as now, I liked my privacy so I had only begrudgingly agreed.

"Why? Doesn't ---- want to be alone?"
"No, she just doesn't like to hear the ghosts on the porch."

My secret experience had been paranormal after all and not so secret. As it turned out, everyone in the family was aware of "the ghosts on the porch".

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Feverish Activity

I finally secured daycare for my little girl. Now, knock wood, my troubles are over. We have enrolled her in a fantastic daycare, part-time, and, though I'm nervous about it, I know that this is a good thing. She needs to be around children her age in order to learn more about successful social navigation.

She has been sick lately which, in part, explains my absence from the blog. She has had a nasty cold/flu with a fever and this has kept me up at night with worry. I know that the fever is her body's means of fighting the infection but, when it gets high, it is extremely frightening.

We have watched many DVDs--selected on her own--and read many books.

I have to note that her favourite book for the last month or so is still Babar and The Ghost by Laurent de Brunhoff. She absolutely loves this story. (Spoiler ahead.) It wonderfully illustrates how confusing the common adult stance that 'ghosts don't exist' can be to children. Babar and his wife, Celeste, though they have inexplicable events involving object levitation and driverless cars, cannot allow themselves to say that ghosts exist. In fact, Babar goes so far as to actually warn the ghost to stay away and thereby acknowledges its presence but, in the end, reverts back to a skeptical posture.

Our little girl asks us to read it everyday, twice: at naptime and at bedtime. I wonder when she'll tire of it! I mean, she will get tired of it...Won't she...?

Saturday, January 14, 2006


There isn't much to write about since my vacation started: I'm catching up on reading and writing, cleaning, watching movies that often feature Steve Buscemi. (I think he is my favourite actor).

I just may have solved my childcare problems: Scully and I have an appointment with a daycare/nursery school in a neighbouring town on Monday. How difficult it is to find daycare in this province! Could it be? Could it really be??

I recently joined a gym and I have been trying to keep a low profile, changing subjects in conversations before anyone can ask me, "What do you do for a living?" So far, people, if they recognize me, have not said anything, thankfully. Two of the staff know and I've been asked questions in a very low-key manner. Some people look at me as if they might have seen me somewhere but can't quite recall...

I've been booking appointments steadily as usual and I even broke my "no working on Saturday" rule by responding to some business email today.

I spent the entire morning doing millions of loads of laundry while listening to edgy covers of Billy Joel songs.

As this post amply illustrates, life as a psychic is pretty mundane this week.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

A Ghost Washes Up

At five o'clock this morning, my mother heard the sound of water running in the bathtub. She assumed, naturally, that someone was taking a bath.

One floor below, my sister lay wide awake listening to the sounds of water being splashed about in the bathtub. She, too, assumed that someone was taking a bath.

This morning, they both discovered that everyone else in the house had been asleep, nobody had taken a bath.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

As The House Settles Down Tonight

"This house really spooks you," I observed while my husband and I were turning in for the night just a little while ago.

"Yes! It does..."

Scully is a scientist and, before meeting me, he had never thought seriously about the existence of ghosts. Now, he is extremely open-minded.

Our little girl continued over the holidays to speak about ghosts. She actually is talking about (1) the ghostly characters in cartoons like the Backyardigans and (2) her ghost named, "Ollie". (She actually spoke of ghosts around the home before being introduced to the images of popular culture. When she started to talk about seeing ghosts, I decided that I needed to teach her to be unafraid and to speak openly with me about her experiences.)

Late this afternoon, we ventured out to the backyard and she insisted on going up to the potting shed again. She knocked on the door.

I asked her, this time as before, "Who lives there?"

"Ollie lives there."

So, Ollie lives in our house and, according to our two-year-old, in the potting shed. Fascinating. I have seen him around but not very often. She sees him often.

The other day, I heard her telling him that I had put a tablecloth on her little table:

"My Mummy do that. Not fair." (Funny, she didn't say anything when I put it on the table.)

Anyway, I just couldn't fall asleep tonight, so I came down to my office.