Dear Ghostiegurl:

Question:

I believe my house is haunted. It dates back to possibly 1902 and mainly is drawn to my children which terrifies them. Can anyone help?

Answer

I love old houses. I think it's a treasure to have a century home. It's my experience that all houses are haunted regardless of age or location.

As to experiences, some people are more sensitive to changes in their environment and, therefore, can see and/or hear ghosts. Children are extremely sensitive in this regard.

It's natural for children -- for anyone -- to be afraid of the unknown. But, once the experience is normalized for them, children will usually settle down. By normalize, I mean that if children see that others are not afraid and are told that such paranormal activity is pretty common, they will take their cues from us. That being said, it's difficult to contain our reactions when a ghost pops out of nowhere or rocking chairs begin to rock on their own.

However, being the parent, you need to trust your intuition where your children are concerned. Just bear in mind that in my many years of readings and conversations, I have never once heard even third hand that someone was injured by a ghost.

Thanks for writing. Hope this helps,

Ghostiegurl.

Never say never . . .

If I'm really honest with myself, I'd have to say that I didn't want to return to giving readings. The hiatus for me felt liberating because I wanted fewer responsibilities elsewhere in order to take care of my children. I felt pulled in too many directions. But things change. People change. Ghosts pop up in your dreams.

I ended the hiatus today with a scheduled reading for a longstanding client. During the reading, I remembered a dream in which a an elderly female ghost told me: "She needs to know she's dying." I thought, "Wha'?"

My client needed to know that an elderly aunt would pass soon. I hate passing on that kind of information, especially since it can be so vague. Elderly people always pass on! But the ghost -- of a stern disposition -- herself was elderly, with bone-straight, shoulder-length grey hair.

We had a good laugh about the nature of that kind of communication, the client and I, and I raised my voice slightly: "It wouldn't be so bad if I could just have A LITTLE MORE INFORMATION." I looked quickly around me, hoping someone might take a hint.

It brought back the humour to my memory. It brought back the freakin' strangeness of it all. It brought back one more thing in the form of my client's question:

"Do you have any idea how you affect other people's lives?"

From Oscar Wilde's The Canterville Ghost:

`My dear sir,' said Mr. Otis, `I really must insist on your oiling those chains, and have brought you for that purpose a small bottle of the Tammany Rising Sun Lubricator. It is said to be completely efficacious upon one application, and there are several testimonials to that effect on the wrapper from some of our most eminent native divines. I shall leave it here for you by the bedroom candles, and will be happy to supply you with more should you require it.' With these words the United States Minister laid the bottle down on a marble table, and, closing his door, retired to rest.

For a moment the Canterville ghost stood quite motionless in natural indignation; then, dashing the bottle violently upon the polished floor, he fled down the corridor, uttering hollow groans, and emitting a ghastly green light. Just, however, as he reached the top of the great oak staircase, a door was flung open, two little white-robed figures appeared, and a large pillow whizzed past his head! There was evidently no time to be lost, so, hastily adopting the Fourth Dimension of Space as a means of escape, he vanished through the wainscoting, and the house became quite quiet.

From the man . . .

"The only real valuable thing is intuition."

-Albert Einstein

Freaky Friday I

The basement was the worst part of our old house. It was old; the stone sweated. The floors were cold and bare and the only time we used this part of the house was to do laundry.

Personally, if I needed to get clothes, I would run down, race to the dryer, and get back upstairs as quickly as I could.

My sister -- six years younger than I -- had a different attitude. While she found it a creepy place, her friends wanted to play there and she ended up spending a lot more time in the basement than I ever would.

(When we first moved in, as I've explained, there were many paranormal events. I remember, especially in the early years, that my stepfather and mother would wake us up with their conversations. They heard loud, heavy footsteps starting at the bottom of the stairs and going all the way to the top, just outside the master bedroom. I heard them, too, but, more often than this, I heard my parents talking about the sound.)

One night, I woke up because -- two floors beneath! -- I heard sounds coming from the basement. It sounded like heavy wood hitting concrete or stone. As my parents and I sat and listened, we heard chop, chop, chopping sounds followed immediately by a hollow-sounding thud (wood on stone). This happened over and over and over.

My mother and I ventured -- on tiptoes, for some reason -- down to the kitchen and approached the basement entrance. The sounds stopped. This happened several times.

When I look back, I shake my head and I think how fortunate I am that other people experienced these events at the same time as I did . . .

I grew up with 'em . . .

We gave my younger daughter a very large, wooden, Victorian-style dollhouse. It's as tall as she is. The girls love it.

It reminds me of our old family home. We knew the house was haunted -- all of us -- the day that we moved in. At first, we heard footsteps that would wake us all up in the middle of the night. Eventually, it transpired that each of us heard the patter, and the laughter, of children on the front porch and on the stairs in the foyer. Over time, we were able to put names to the, er, faces via the city's registry.

Anyway, the most striking aspect of the children's presence was that it could be heard -- at exactly the same volume -- no matter where a person was in the house. It could even be heard above the din of televisions and stereos.

I heard running, as did the others, and the incredibly faint strains of "Ring Around the Roses."

Frankly, I was still more than a little frightened by the idea of disclosing my experiences to the rest of the family even though we all knew that the others knew about the running on the porch.

One shadowy afternoon, my mother was napping in her room and I was in mine. I heard her call me.

"Yeh, Mum?"

"Will you turn off the TV for me?" My mother didn't open her eyes.

"Oh, you don't want it on anymore?"

"I didn't want it on in the first place. It just came on again." This had been going on since my grandmother had died a few weeks before.

As I was talking to her and turning off the television, I asked her if she'd heard anyone.

"You mean the children singing?"

"Yes!" I was excited. I was relieved. This was good. "What song do YOU hear?"

"Ring Around the Roses."

My sister had heard it, too. And so began the dialogue that, for so many years, nurtured my intuition and perception.

I'm BACK! And Freaky Friday is here.

Well, I didn't actually go anywhere. But, after a 2.5 year hiatus, I'm booking reading appointments again.

It wasn't just burnout that caused me to want to stop that long while back: Having children, requiring childcare, etc. all played a part. Also, I was worried about the stigmatizing effect it might have on my children. But, I've worked it all out and, if I'm very discreet, it can be done.

The last thing I want to teach my children is to be uncomfortable with who they are; but, let's face it, childhood can be difficult where peer relationships are concerned.

My intention is to post daily but, additionally, I want to post weekly about a psychic or ghostly experience.

Let's start now: we'll make it Freaky Friday.

Recently, I had been hearing cupboards door slamming, people walking around upstairs in the evening and during the day. I called out (for I'm a lazy psychic) and asked, "Scully? Is that you?" or "Girls, are you running around up there?"

Of course, Scully was watching a video on his laptop with the HEADPHONES on and didn't even hear me, let alone budge from his comfy spot. And, the girls? They were asleep each time it happened.

No, I didn't think I was losing my mind. I didn't think this each time I felt a presence or when I heard a gravelly voice call my name.

Then, a day after the last event and week after the first, I received a phone call from my sister:

"I'm sorry to disturb you this late, but I just had to tell you! (Terri) died!"

I was stunned, actually. I'd known her for about 33 years. She'd babysat us daily. I'd grown up with her own children.

Then, a phone call to my mother:

"She died last Wednesday, a massive coronary."

"Oh, between 10 and 11 pm?"

"Yes, that's when they believe it happened."

Well, that's when Terri had started visiting me. Slamming my cupboards though? Let's just say, I'm not the most organized psychic nor am I the best housekeeper. She was organized, immaculate. In my own way, I'll miss her.

Dear Ghostiegirl

Question:

I have a friend who tells me she sees ghosts that are people and also animals. She says that in the past years the sights have been getting more clear because they use to be just a greenish yellow outline of someone, but now she said she can see what they look like and all. It makes me really curious to think why she sees them? And why cant I? I always thought it was very interesting and would like to see what it'd be like to be in her shoes one day. I was hoping maybe you could give me some answers and if maybe there's any way I could be able to have this gift . . . if I . . . I dunno, practiced or something, lol? Please help! I'd love to hear what you have to say :)

Answer:

Thanks for writing. I'm finally able to devote more time to answering questions since my younger daughter is older now.

I think your question is a good one. It has stumped and motivated so many paranormal researchers, parapsychologists, and other inquisitive people for many, many years. (I'll try to remember to post some links to the well-established, respected institutions devoted to such questions).

Some people believe that they have a special mental power that is often referred to as a "gift". It's difficult for me to support this because I'm pretty much a pragmatic person at heart.

I only have a theory (and I'm not a neuroscientist) but I believe that there is probably some portion of the brain that allows people to see ghosts and predict future events -- or some neural networks that develop -- via the experience of intuition. Everyone has intuition. The question is: why would it be stronger in some people than in others? My suspicion is that it has to do with early childhood development and the varying need to cope. Whereas everyone has intuition regarding their own lives, for some this intuition is more encompassing or comprehensive.

That being said, can others develop this? I don't know. I don't give advice in this regard because you just never know what the outcome may be. Personally, I pay attention to my dreams because ghosts often visit in this way. I always notice when things are askew in my home, when the temperature has dropped, when objects move, when there is an unknown odor. Also, my older child and my husband both report experiences, too.

Unfortunately, I've seen more than a few people become so obsessed with wanting to have a paranormal experience that it becomes unhealthy for them to continue to try. Also, I've seen people positively frightened after having the longed-for paranormal experience.

I hope I've been of some help.

--Ghostiegurl

O, my!

I've neglected this blog for a long time. It isn't that I haven't experienced anything of the (para)normal; it's that spare time is sparse.

Anyway, to fill you in, as recently as last night the house was astir.

Scully and I were sitting on the sofa watching a movie and I gasped:

"I just saw a ghost." It had taken me by surprise.

"Oh, I felt a presence behind me." He admitted.

"Yes, it walked behind us and into the hallway." It had seemed to be heading into the kitchen.

Although the image was indistinct, I got the impression of a slight, elderly woman who was hunched over a bit.

Then, this morning, I was at the gym waiting for my spinning class to begin. I was upstairs with one other person, a clerk, who was arranging the bicycles.

"Hey," I said. "That door was closed. I know it was."

Neither of us had been anyway near the bathroom nor had we left the spinning room and yet the door of the bathroom was now wide open.

The clerk smiled and looked away quickly but didn't say anything. She looked as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. Sometimes, people are afraid to mention ghosts because they don't know if the other person believes; at other times, people are constrained by rules/regulations as an employee of a company. Whatever the reason for her silence, I could tell she knew something.

She isn't afraid

At the beginning of summer, we moved the girls' playroom to the screened-in front porch. The other day, I got Scully to put batteries in the mini keyboard/all-in-one musical instrument. For days on end, I'd been hearing faint classical music but couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Then, Scully pointed out that it was the keyboard on the porch going off due to some kind of "short". I tried to accept that but it didn't feel right. My little daughter, almost 17 months old now, says 'hi' to people and only to people. She'd been saying 'hi' every once in a while throughout the house for the past day or so. Strange, but nothing of great importance.

It got to the point that I couldn't take the classical music anymore playing at all times of the day and night, so I removed the batteries yesterday and then went inside to get a Freezie for the baby.

She grabbed the Freezie, walked straight over to the porch, walked out and said 'hi' in the direction of the keyboards. Then, she held her Freezie up proudly to show someone in the same area.

I told Scully who admitted it was a bit "freaky". The poor guy. Living with three sensitive females must be hard.
Whoever it is, it's her ghost because I get only the faintest impressions.

It reminds me of Gigi who, at 18 months, used to run over to the potting shed in the backyard looking for "Ollie".

Remains of the Dead





The first in the Ghost Dusters mystery series by Wendy Roberts, The Remains of the Dead is a quick read. Despite the fact that it addresses serious matters, it manages to be light and entertaining.

Sadie, our protagonist, has an unusual business and a habit that she manages to conceal from most people: she regularly speaks to the dead. We learn more about her relationships with others -- living and dead -- than we do about her at this point in the series. For example, it may have completely escaped my attention but I had no clear idea of her age.

Surprisingly, I was more impressed by the dialogue between the living and the dead -- and by the subplots -- than I was by the plot itself. Not that it does not work, but the dialogue between Sadie and her ghosts stole the show, so to speak.

It has not ceased to amaze me that there are at least as many characterizations of ghosts and their relationships to the living as there are books that I've read in which ghosts (forgive me) appear. This book is no exception.

If you read this book, do so because it is not very densely populated with questions about souls, the afterlife and what it all means. It adheres to the rules of genre mystery writing and it has a twist. It also conveys a unique perspective on communication with the dead, an original one in my experience.

What boy?!

This evening, I confess that I couldn't wait to get the children to bed. With Scully being away on business, I'm tired. So, after putting Gigi to bed, I was done and reclining (or, refusing to move, if you prefer). The house was mostly silent except for the sound of the fan in the baby's unused nursery.

But I could hear a soft conversation (with laughter) between two children and I just passed it off as the product of sleep deprivation or a simple error in perception.

Later on, I did actually move and went to check on the children. Baby was asleep and Gigi was, too. Just as I was leaving, Gigi woke up and lifted her head, squinting:

"Mum, where did the boy go?"

I couldn't get her to say anything else. Five-year-olds are surprisingly protective of their sleep. At least, mine is. I must make a mental note to ask her tomorrow to please elaborate. These days, however, I often get a sigh as if talking to me is a real chore; well, at least as if I'm not as interesting as Arthur and D.W.

Again with the door!

On Sunday night, I fell asleep at the same time as the girls did. At some point, I could hear the phone ringing downstairs. I decided not to answer it, feeling too tired. Besides, who calls a house with children so late at night? But the phone was persistent.

Then, the doorbell rang. I checked the time: about 10 p.m. I thought, "There's no way I'm going down there to answer that!" But, again, it persisted. Searching frantically for something to preserve my modesty, I grabbed my maternity hospital gown (er, it accidentally ended up in my suitcase last year) and ran downstairs.

I called through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's security, ma'am," a man answered back. "Are you alright?"

Ugh. He called me 'ma'am'.

"Yes, I'm OK." I opened the door just a little. How did I know if he was really a security guard from my security company?

"ALARM COMPANY has detected an intrusion alert. We need to know if you're OK."

That's when I noticed it: the absence of an alarm. That thing is so !#$@@ noisy, I would have heard it down the street.

"If you check Zone 102, you'll see the door's open."

I looked over and, surely enough, it was open. But I had locked it!

"Must have been the wind or something," he offered.

"Yeh," I said. "The wind." Except: I wouldn't have been able to secure the house if the door was insecure enough to have blown open in the wind. When the door is shut -- but not locked -- it is impossible to push it open.

A report was filled out. The security guard had checked the entire property, inside and under my car as well. He went room-by-room, door-by-door through the entire house. The only other people in here with me, he concluded, were two sleeping children.

I was a bit shaken. There were no signs of attempted break-in. Scully, being in the UK on business, was going to have a hard time believing this.

I waited until I knew he'd be awake before calling.

"What??@!" He yelled down the phone. "Obviously, you DIDN'T lock it. That's the only reasonable explanation."

"But I DID lock it. I went around the entire house locking up. You're telling me to convince myself that I didn't do something I can remember clearly doing. THAT'S insane," I countered.

He had to agree. But, why hadn't the alarm sounded? That's when he realized it wasn't an error on my part. The alarm had been set but had not gone off. I couldn't have set the alarm if the door hadn't been shut and it has been clearly established that one cannot push the door open when it's shut-but-not-locked. Ha!

I have to admit, before going to sleep, I had asked my spirit guides and relatives watching over us to give me a sign that they were with us because I couldn't see or detect them.

Ridding My Home of Books

Scully has asked me to kindly go through our 10,000 books and, well, get rid of some that I don't want or won't read or won't read again, etc.

Fair enough. We either need to get a bigger house or pare down our collection. I've definitely set some boundaries. There are books with which I will never part; books that are no longer in print or books that had such a limited print run that you can barely find them on the Internet.

I'm thinking of old Hans Holzer, Ed & Lorraine Newman, Edgar Cayce tomes . . . To mention only a few among hundreds of names. Over the years, I've tried different book databases and different methods of tracking my acquisitions but, really, haven't succeeded very well. I think I will use this blog to help keep me organized. Why not? I'm working on a running list of titles in the area of supernatural/paranormal/psychic phenomena and will post a link.

I'm reminded of the first time that we (my family-of-origin and I) walked through our new home in the early 1980s. As I kind of 'spaced out' looking around, taking everything in, I heard my mother mentioning to someone that many families had lived in the house but most had left pretty quickly.

I opened the closet door of the upstairs hallway. There, on the shelf, was a copy of the bible. Had people been afraid? Was this an age-old custom of moving home? And, now I wonder, did I keep the bible?

Dear Ghostiegurl:

I have a home that a man died in and he and his wife were in the middle of a divorce. They would fight all the time. He died in this house of a heart attack. I have seen the man here and often feel his presence. When my husband comes home we fight always and we try to be close. You can feel a very cold presence in the room, yet if we quit and walk into another room, it is usually warm. Any sugggestions???



Answer:

Many psychics believe that ghosts leave visual or emotional "imprints" (it's like watching a film over and over again or feeling a certain emotion in a certain room) on the places in which they lived or spent time in. It's possible that you and your husband can pick up the tension in the room in which you and he argue because the deceased man and his wife used to argue there.

If it is an imprint, you're not dealing with a ghost. But, you say that you have seen him. If it isn't an imprint, and you are picking up the attitude of the ghost, then you may ask him to leave. Tell him that he doesn't have to stay there anymore or, that if he does stay, ask him to leave rooms when you enter and you can "share" the house in peace.

Reaping

I came up with a description of my status: I'm now a professional 'psychic on leave of absence', though I can still be convinced to give a reading every now and then. I still hear from regular clients who like to give me updates, tell me they look forward to my returning to work. A local group asked me if they could keep me in mind for future investigations (some televised, some not) and I agreed.

Anyway, I decided to watch a movie while reaping the benefits of cardiovascular exercise. At the gym, I sat transfixed as The Reaping played on my Treo. It made going to resistance level 8 for four minutes, three times a lot easier; it made me work harder during the four four-minute "rest" intervals.

I didn't get to finish it. The pre-programmed weightloss workout (if you're not doing the math) is only 28 minutes long. I'm hoping to finish it at the next two gym sessions!

What do I think about it? It's definitely creepy. Gabriel Byrne is always worth watching. I'm not religious but I often find myself watching scary movies with religious themes (think: The Omen, The Exorcist) and really enjoying them. I can't say much about The Reaping because I haven't seen much.

Carrying on the theme of psychic kids:

As a child -- about the age of Gigi -- I had a knack for always knowing where anything was located within the house. My mother would say, "Have you seen this ----?" and I have one particular memory of opening a bottom cupboard in the kitchen and reaching around behind the pipes to show my mother where an object was. She found the frequency of this kind of event peculiar.

My sister -- whose abilities are more dream-oriented than outright intuition -- complained often about playing games with me, especially the card game, Go Fish. I always "just knew" what she had as a hand. She STILL talks about it from time to time as being a particular point of frustration while we were growing up.

As far as empathy goes, as a child, I would walk past people and get overwhelmed with an emotion of some great intensity, as if it was just washing over me and I could barely stand up under the pressure or weight of it. The hardest emotion, of course, being sorrow or grief. It wasn't easy and I would really dread having to walk past people at a very young age!

So many psychic things happened to me as a child; would I have wanted to "go public" with it on a show such as Psychic Kids? I doubt it. I doubt that my mother, as open-minded as she is about such things, would have allowed it.

Gigi always knows who is calling and often tells us who is coming by. As you probably already know, she's been talking about ghosts since she started talking! After much thought, I realize that I would not allow her or my other child to participate in such a show.

At any rate, if you, dear readers, would like me to post about something in particular, please feel free to ask as I work harder to keep this blog updated more frequently. Otherwise, I'll just keep rambling on as usual . . .

Psychic Kids

This show surprised me. I managed to catch one episode and, so far, I am of two minds about the program.

On the one hand, I'm glad that the psychic sensitivity of children is finally getting some attention. On the other, I'm uncomfortable with children being subjected to such intense media exposure when, clearly, in my opinion, they are not old enough to appreciate the later-in-life consequences of being so open. Certainly, it's entertaining; however, children can learn to be comfortable with themselves without doing so in front of a camera.

But, then again, according to the bio of Dr. Lisa Miller (co-host and psychologist), she works with "psychic kids and their parents to offer support and to clear a path for psychic children in our culture." I can support this idea. Perhaps the later-in-life consequences will be negligible since our culture does seem to be developing an open-mindedness where the paranormal is concerned.

Who knows? Maybe one day, people will put a capital "P" on their blogs or Facebook profiles to indicate that they're "out" as a psychic and proud of it.

Interestingly enough, my sister and I hadn't spoken for a while and today she asked: "Have you seen 'Psychic Kids'? I watched my first episode last night.

At any rate, it makes for capitivating television.

Dead Television Shows

Dead Like Me lasted only two seasons but it was fantastic. It was created by Bryan Fuller (think Wonderfalls, Heroes, Pushing Daisies, Star Trek: Voyager.)

George, the main character, having been killed in a freak accident, steps out of her body to find that she is, well, that she still IS. She has no choice but to live her dead-life as it becomes pretty ordinary but utterly fascinating.

I've noticed re-runs and you could probably catch an episode pretty easily. Otherwise, both seasons were released on DVD and they are well worth the purchase.

The humour is dry, biting; its timing is impeccable.

Fear and Folklore

Over the past year, until March, I was addicted to the first season of Ghost Whisperer though I hadn't seen an episode until after I'd stopped giving readings. Scully bought me the DVDs. My experiences do not match those of the main character, Melinda, and I think that is why I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, the tone of the second season changed and it wasn't interesting to me at that point.

I haven't seen the other shows that involve the paranormal and don't really know their titles. I guess I've always been put off by the fact that televisionland perpetuates certain ideas of the supernatural that I simply have not experienced myself. Also, in the many hundreds of readings that I've done, not a single person had been hurt by a ghost nor knew of anyone who had been but almost everyone feared ghosts and believed that a "haunting" was something that had to be erradicated.

So, in my last post, when I spoke of "folklore-ish" aspects of ghost-filled movies, it is this to which I was referring. It's one thing to enjoy these movies (I loved Poltergeist) and television shows about the paranormal; it is quite another thing to be frightened of the paranormal because of such movies and shows.

Don't get me wrong: I still find some experiences unsettling but it is not due to a fear of harm. At night, when the toys start playing music and wake me up or when books defy gravity by falling and then resting on shelves at impossible angles, my heart starts racing until I've processed that something is happening. To me, the paranormal is very normal, just sometimes unexpected!

Room 1408, please, with a view . . .



It took about a dozen attempts to watch the movie because, as you can (barely) see at the bottom of the image, my baby was with me and I could only watch the non-scary, mundane parts when she was around. I'm not sure how much information children retain at that age but I didn't want to take any chances. I was experimenting with the sepia-tone filter that day, too.

The movie was enjoyable even though it played to all the folklore-ish ideas about the supernatural and ghosts. But if you remember the lost-in-television, braces-going-wild drama of Poltergeist (1982) and would still watch it again, then you appreciate the folklore-ish aspect of things and should probably watch this film.

I have to say that I love Samuel Jackson and I think John Cusack is always brilliant.

Rambling

I have so many -- more than a hundred -- questions from readers that have gone unanswered because I have been so busy. My older daughter has started summer vacation; my baby has just started walking. If I finish one cup of coffee in a day, I'm doing well. There really aren't enough hours in a day to do everything I want/need to do, but, I'm sure that everyone reading this can relate. After supper, I go to my second job: the 'health club' (which, as far as I can tell, is just a way of saying 'very expensive gym'). Ghostiegurl is trying to shed the pounds and generally get healthier.

The premonitions that I had years ago about my future featured myself as a heavy woman. I still have to try, though; sometimes, we seem to be able to change the outcome of things provided that we don't suddenly find ourselves living out the premonition. That has been my experience. But, it's difficult. I can't tell you the number of times that I've been in the midst of events when I've realized, "Oh, s*&@! I dreamt about this . . ." I don't have all -- or maybe any -- of the answers. Maybe there are things we simply can't change.

Sometimes, a predictive dream is really straightforward in its interpretation: such an event X will happen at point Y in time involving person A. At other times, the dreams feature a mixture of all the predictive elements but the setting is purely unrealistic. For example, after breaking up with a boyfriend, I dreamt of having two children and a husband and of living in a small town and receiving a message from my ex-boyfriend. Well, it happened recently. I was shocked to receive an email after 15 years of silence just a couple of months ago but all the elements had been in place. I call that a "comfort dream": though inconsolable at the time of the separation, my mind was telling me that I would hear from him again and placed the future communication in a broad context.

We'll have to see about the dreams in which I was heavy. It's hard to imagine because my hair -- very long with loads of spiral curls -- was short in the dreams and Scully hates the idea of me cutting my hair. I don't even feel inclined to do it.

At any rate, back to busy-ness. Giving up readings was hard to do but, in my schedule, something had to give. There's definitely a part of me that misses giving readings. The other evening, a friend requested that I give her one and I did. Believe it or not, my husband (aka 'Scully') occasionally asks for a reading. I like giving readings. I will do so again at some point.

Not Gone But Maybe Forgotten!

It isn't really that things have been quiet around here for as long as my absence from the blog.

My house is periodically buzzing with ghost activity. Back in February, for example, every night for weeks, one or all of my baby's noise-making toys would be set off. One night, every single toy was blaring music across the hall from our bedroom in the nursery. One night, even I was freaked out and didn't get out of bed. Sometimes, the noise would come from Mini-me's room and she would come running out to tell me.

Just a few weeks ago, she told me about a man named "Cory" in her room who was looking for bad guys. He had a hard "green hat" and a gun and he was dirty. He also had a dog with him who helped him. When I asked if it frightened her, she said, "no" but she didn't think he would find any bad guys here. Then, just recently, I asked her if Cory was still around and she said that he had left to go to another family's house; in fact, to one of her friends' house, just to look after her for a while.

Premonitions are strong. But I've given up readings entirely because of the stress of childcare. I stopped after January, actually. I honestly had no clue before having the baby that trying to work inside the home as well as be a mother of two to very small children and work from home would be so difficult.

Lately, however, I've been able to read more often and I've come across some great titles that I intend to share at some point.

At any rate, I haven't disappeared. I guess I just needed a break.

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, after everyone had just settled, I was alone in the living room. I scrolled through the music on our television/media centre and decided on Anne-Sophie Mutter's Beethoven pieces.

Within a second, I heard the Christmas tree behind me: it sounded as if it was shaking. I looked behind me and saw a single decorative bulb swinging wildly on the bottom branch and this was obviously the source of the noise. The bulb was swinging but ABSOLUTELY NO OTHER part of the tree -- including the branches -- was moving in even the smallest way.

As I sat there staring at the swinging bulb, it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, but it wasn't a gradual loss of momentum: it simply stopped.

Immediately after it stopped, the same rattling sound came from beside me and in front of the sofa: I looked and saw that a frame on the mantlepiece had slid down and its picture -- of my grandmother as a girl and which had already had the word "me" written in her own hand just above her image -- had slipped out the top of the frame.

It was nice to know that my maternal grandmother was with me for the holiday.

Just how dumb am I?

I recently posted elsewhere about my daughter's frequent discussion of "the witch":

"That's the witches' forest." She pointed to the sideyard of a smallish mansion on the way to school.
"Oh, it's very pretty."
"No, it's scary."

She's been talking a lot about witches lately.

The other day:

"I locked the witch in my room."
"You did?"
"Yes. That way, she can't come out and talk to me."

I hadn't known that she was having trouble with witches.

I was rather glib about what I'd assumed -- despite my (gulp) intuition -- to be the flight of her imagination.

Recently, when I thought about it, it occurred to me that my four-year-old hadn't had the same lilt in her voice as she does when she's making believe. So, at dinner time last evening, I casually approached the subject:

"You mentioned before that there's a witch in your room . . ."

"Yes. But she's trapped."

"She is?"

"Yes. She always says, 'Ah, let me out'."

"Oh. I see. Is she a witch or a ghost?"

"She wears a witch costume."

"She comes to play with me. She doesn't share. She hits and throws toys."

"Do you like it when she comes to play?"

"No," she said quite seriously. "She disturbs me."

"She does?"

"Yes. She always sleeps on my bed. In the mornings."

"Does that bother you?"

"No."

"Oh, that's good."

"It just scares me."

"Does she speak to you?"

"Yes, she always calls me."

"Did you first see her before Halloween or after?"

"Before."

"What's her name?"

"It's a 'Sah, sah, sah' [sounding out an 'S'] sound..."

"Like Cecilia...Sarah?"

"It's Sarah!!" She was happy that I'd guessed it.

More today:

"Is she big like Mummy or small like you?" I asked her while we cuddled this morning.

"Small like me."

"Did she ask you not to tell your Mummy and Daddy that she comes to play?"

"Yes," she said, almost embarrassed. "But I said, 'I have to'."

"Wow. You did the right thing." I kissed her cheek. "You tell Mummy and Daddy everything. No secrets."

I had to follow up with the "witch's forest".

"You said that it was the witch's forest yesterday, when we walked to school."

"Yes, Mummy. That's where she lives. Wait, I think I hear her...Oh, no. That's just the baby."

She's told us more about "the witch"--whom she thinks is about two years old--voluntarily and when questioned. Some of it:

"She didn't go out trick-or-treating."

"She didn't?"

"No. She was too late [when she came over]."

Wow. I made such a common mistake, one that I've often warned clients about: I assumed my daughter was 'making up' a friend or a character and she was actually talking about a ghost.

Shame on me!

A fitting Hallowe'en post

Today, something very unusual happened. I lay the baby in her cot beside my bed and left to wash her bottles. From the kitchen downstairs, I could hear her laughing uproariously. She wasn't giggling or babbling as she normally would: She was laughing heartily and squealing with delight. And it was LOUD.

I walked upstairs and her behaviour continued. The temperature, I noted, had fallen in the room. I got the impression that someone -- someone I don't know -- was around her. She was "looking" at something during all this. When my husband came up -- at my request -- he was as surprised as I was. He noted that it was cold in the room and, the scientist that he is, chalked it up to wind coming through the closed window (it holds the air conditioner, so that's a plausible guess.)

"I think a relative from your father's side is around her," I told him.

"Could be," he shrugged.

Moments after he left, the room warmed up and the baby stopped laughing. All the while, a name had been floating around my head. I ran out of the room, down the stairs and straight to the basement.

"Did you have a relative named Mary Margaret on your father's side?" I'd never looked at his genealogy project.

"Yes...I think she was his great aunt."

"That's who is around her."

Catching up a bit...

Strange things have been happening lately. Besides the usual, that is.

Last evening, I noticed that my husband had placed a newly-received wedding photo of his parents on the mantlepiece. Well, it didn't really fit in with all the other frames in that area. My scheme is black-and-white and the photo is colour, 1950s; my frames are gold trimmed and the photo is framed with brown wood. So, I took it down from the mantlepiece and placed it on the radiator, face down.

Later tonight, as I went into the living room to grab my laptop, I looked above the fireplace: on the mantlepiece--the opposite side of the now removed photo--a double frame of my husband's paternal grandparents was (1) face down and (2) upside down. Clearly, it could not have simply fallen over: It would have had to have fallen and then turned around. It's possible someone is trying to tell me something.

Well, it's my living room and if one of his grandparents is upset, that's too bad! I haven't had any impressions of his grandparents, so I don't know...

Also, I hear 'Mummy' being called, extremely faintly, when anyone old enough to speak is actually out of the house. My baby is only 6 months old. It's happened at least twice a day but I haven't paid much attention to it. Maybe I should.

I keep seeing someone standing near the garage but it's only out of the corner of my eye. If I look there, the image is gone. Mostly, ghosts come in my dreams and my dreams have been a bit 'noisy' lately.

I remember when my older daughter was quite a bit younger, she used to talk about "Ollie", the little boy, who lived in the backyard in my turn-of-the-century potting shed. She doesn't talk about ghosts anymore.

My husband says he often thinks he sees our deceased cat on the stairs in the basement for a split second and, when he looks again, the image is gone.

When I was pregnant, we had plumbers come in to fix the pipes in the basement bathroom. My husband tells me that one of them pointblankly asked him: "Who's really into ghosts around here?"

To which my husband replied: "Oh, that's my wife. She's a well-known psychic."

I apologize for the delay in responding to the dozens of emails that I receive. With a new baby, it's hard to find spare time. I will get to them, tho'.

The Problem of Privacy

Over the summer, I revisited an issue that I'd once put on the back burner, shoving it nervously away from the fore after making a resolution: When I have an impression of someone -- negative or not -- I will not just announce it to the person; I will store it away and try to forget about it.

Why? Though some people have asked if it's because I'm not working at the time and therefore wouldn't get paid for sharing the intuition, it's actually because of a sense of privacy that I avoid announcing my impressions. What right do I have to just intrude on what could very well be a private issue that isn't meant to be confided?

A friend of mine visited and told me that she and her husband had postponed plans to conceive a child. Immediately, I had the sense that she was already pregnant and the impression just got stronger.

When I received the news of the impending birth, I was overjoyed and confided my first impressions then. As it turns out, my friend would not have felt that her privacy was being invaded if I'd shared the intuition.

It's an issue with which I've struggled for some time.

Visiting Baby

Whenever I come down to my office, a ghost run across the floor directly above me. It happens each and every time!

It's the ghost of a child and the running is at full speed. I get the impression that he wants to see the baby.

Harmless, I know, but it makes me a little uncomfortable.

Update

I've really missed writing here. I just got so busy with my new daughter (Mimi) and my other daughter (Gigi) and . . . and . . . my recovery from surgery was, therefore, not going very well.

I've recently acquired a few novels about which I'd like to write here once I'm finished reading them and I will.

That's another feature that I've always intended to add to this blog: book reviews.

Also, I've received many questions by email and I will get to them all as soon as I can but there is a bit of a backlog...

It's nice to see that people still read even though I took a hiatus for my pregnancy.

Hiatus Over

OK, I'm back.

It's amazing to me that I'm always struggling to keep up with everything. While I wouldn't say that having two children is difficult, it does keep you extremely busy.

One day, I'll read again. One day, I'll write again. One day, maybe one day, I'll sleep again.

In the meantime, I've continued to book reading appointments into February 2008.

By the way, does anyone still read this blog???

Dear Ghostiegurl:

We have experimented with a kind of "game". It consisted of calling a soul which would give us answers, even predicting the future.

The alphabet, numbers from 0-9, yes/no, and goodbye were written on pieces of paper and put on the table forming a circle. A plastic glass with our fingers on it was being moved by that spirit to give us the answers.

I don`t know the name of this "game" but it used to be very exact in giving answers about the past. I would like to know the name of this game and if it is dangerous. I heard some people who tried it lost some family members. It might have been a coincidence or maybe not.........Please give me some answers.

Answer:

You're talking about a handmade version of the talking board, a method of divination/spirit communication that dates back to ancient times.

It is believed to be an easy way of establishing a connection with the ghost world, especially for people who aren't naturally aware of such a connection. In the 19th century, fascination with the spirit world and communication therewith grew--in the form of the spiritualism movement--and some now-famous people got swept up in what was essentially considered a parlour pastime.

It was popularized in the 19th century but it was marketed in the early 20th century in the most recognizable form of a board-and-planchette game by Kennard Novelty Company and William Fuld's company, to name a couple. Parker Brothers acquired William Fuld's company in the 1960s and produced "The Ouija Board". (Since 1999, it has been a very different-looking product.) There are other companies that produced talking boards under different names and, today, different religious groups have other names for it.

Beliefs about talking boards run to both ends of the spectrum: some believe that it's not a game, that it's very dangerous. In a religious context, it has been labelled "an instrument of the devil" or the playground of demons. At the other end of the spectrum, some people believe that the planchette or message indicator is moved, subconsciously or consciously, by one or more of the participants in the game and that the predictions/answers are actually an expression of the participant's or participants' subconscious.

There is a good collection of literature on the subject of the talking board, each piece detailing anecdotes or techniques or warnings. Perhaps the most famous is the early-20th-century tale of Patience Worth; she was believed to be a spirit--apparently contacted by Pearl Lenore Curran --who produced poetry and novels.

Whether or not to use a talking board is, of course, a personal decision and I, personally, don't like them and don't advocate their use. Why? Because I believe that ghosts are everywhere and those that wish to help us are already doing so.

Many people report false information, vulgar language and insults in their experience with talking boards while a very few relate positive experiences to me. In my years of providing readings to people, I have found that many people are very curious to use one but are afraid to do so. I have never received firsthand or even second-hand stories of injury or fatalities and I've read for hundreds of people.

Not Too Much Longer...

I'm near the end of my pregnancy now and I have even less of a lap on which to rest my computer than I did last week.

My pregnancy has been pretty difficult and posting regularly has been next to impossible. So, posting the many questions that I receive by email and answering them has been a good alternative.

Once the baby is born, I'll post more.

Dear Ghostiegurl:

This happened to me when I was five years old.

I´d been lying on my bed for a long time, and all of a sudden this glowing green human-shaped thing came in my room. He walked around for a while. When I tried to get up and run away, he walked right to the bed, sat next to me and tried to touch me or something like that but disappeared.

I want to know if that was real, or at least if it could have happened. My mother and grandmother both can see dead people and all that stuff.

Thanks.

Answer:

Green seems to be a common colour when it comes to the orb that you sometimes see before a figure appears, in my experience at least. You saw the residual green glow of the orb as the figure became more strongly human-looking, though you didn't see the original orb itself.

I believe that a spirit guide was reaching out to you to let you know that he was looking out for you.

Dear Ghostiegurl:

. . . I'm hoping you can offer me some quick advice regarding my infant and the other inhabitants of my 112-year-old house.

Since my husband moved in early last year, there's been an energy shift in my house -I can no longer sense "the others" as strongly as I used to, perhaps due to the distraction of another living being within the walls. It's been such a whirlwind year with the wedding, pregnancy and birth of my daugther that I hadn't given the ghosts a second thought. But in the past few days even my husband is beginning to notice unusual things in the baby's room - closet door opening by itself, objects having been moved, baby following something with her eyes or staring at "nothing".

As I become more aware of things in her room, my senses seem to be awakening to where I can feel a stronger presence throughout the house. After having my house cleansed a few years ago due to some problems with negative energy, I haven't had any worries about lingering entities (I get a little creeped out by the thought of them at all to be honest and would rather NOT know they are there). But, now with a baby in the house and memories of scary dealings of my own when I was a small child, I worry that the ghosts may cause her fear or confusion. It could be why she mysteriously wakes up for long stretches between 2 and 4 am and seems a little too wide-eyed for a baby who had just been sleeping peacefully.

I'd prefer none of us had any interaction with or awareness of them - but since that's not possible, what can I do to protect my baby from any potential negativity or disturbances? I don't want to call in some big "ghost hunting" team since the matter does cause me a fair amount of fear and I prefer to be blissfully ignorant as to how many others I share my home with. I prefer to discuss the matter with someone who can help reduce my own fear and provide me some tips on how to protect the most important life force in my world.

Thanks in advance for any advice you may be able to offer. Best wishes for the rest of your pregancy.

Answer:

I think that fear is an understandable, instinctive response to the unknown but I believe that it can be overcome. Unless they're around specifically to help you, ghosts usually have little interest in your life. It just so happens that babies and small children are extraordinarily sensitive to that part of our existence and often see what adults cannot detect. (Sometimes, invisible friends are only invisible to adults!)

As regular readers already know (and I do think that I should repeat it here), I usually try to help people become more comfortable with their usually-unseen guests. After all, it's my opinion that there are ghosts everywhere and that all homes have ghosts.

If your daughter sees that you're afraid, she'll likely fear ghosts, too; if you discuss the fear with her and help her to know that it's normal but not necessary, she'll grow comfortable. If you're able to do it, an open dialogue about her experiences as she grows -- i.e., normalizing the experiences -- would actually help her to retain the ability to detect ghosts throughout her life.

I believe that we all have 'spirit' guides -- ghosts that come around us to help us and watch over us.

You're clearly uncomfortable, however, with the idea that ghosts may be around your baby, so assure yourself that you can ask ghosts to leave and you may also simply set boundaries: no entering this or that room, no being around while you're around, stay away from baby, etc. You can set these boundaries simply by announcing them aloud. You do not need a "ghost hunting" team to come into your home or a psychic to come into your home in order to do this.

At any rate, please keep me posted.

Dear Ghostiegurl:

I was wondering do you see souls that have passed or do you only have weird things happen to you? I have had weird things happen to me all my life. It started when I was young seeing what I call 'shadow people' in homes or in the yards. Now that I'm older not only do I see shadow people but I also see people walking through my home, running in my yard.

It used to not upset me until they started to look more mutilated... I've asked them to leave but they never seem to go away. It's not always the same person either. I worked at a dentist office and in one room the lights would flicker; and, when I was there by myself the radio would turn on by its self and the creepy thing would be it was unplugged. No matter what station it was on it would play 'oldies but goldies'. I even have pictures of me at this job that the dentist took and there's reddish orange blobs around me. I'm from Ms and when I try to ask any one about what has happened, they always change the subject. I feel that i'm going kind of nutty, can you give any help?

Answer:

I've always seen/had ghosts around me and I've always had premonitions, precognitions, etc. happen to me. I've never seen "mutilated" ghosts at all. I don't know what to make of that. I grew up around ghosts and became quite comfortable as did my entire family-of-origin.

In all the investigations that I've done, I've advised people that it's better to learn to live with the ghosts and become comfortable with them. I just don't believe in rituals designed to get ghosts to leave. If the situation is uncomfortable, or if you live in constant fear, you may try to ask again. Or, you may simply ask them not to appear while you're around. If they're aware of you at all, in my experience, they usually listen. If they don't seem aware of you at all, ever, then you may just be getting impressions of the past instead of seeing actual ghosts.

In my experience, some ghosts use electrical appliances such as lights, tv, telephone and radio in order to make themselves known.

As you've no doubt experienced, it's not possible to talk about ghosts or psychic phenomena with everyone; in fact, many people are either too frightened, too skeptical, or too quick to judge someone as mentally ill. This kind of conversation can be liberating, so I hope you have or find some kindred friends and I'm glad that you wrote.

--Ghostiegurl

Catch Up

I can't believe how many people have already booked appointments for exactly one year from now.

One of the clients who booked said, "You're really popular."

It kind of makes me feel pressured to resume readings but, as my husband points out, I could always cancel the appointments and tell people that I won't be giving readings anymore.

Then, again, I may really want to do readings at that point. We'll see. . .

Through the fog that pregnancy has induced around my brain, I'm still able to see some things. Actually, I'm intuiting.

It's a close relative's new boyfriend. I don't trust him. I can't even bring myself to meet him. There's something not right there . . . This close relative -- close in the sense that we speak often -- can't understand my reluctance.

I've told her of my impression in this respect but she disagrees, even though I predicted his arrival in her life a couple of months before he actually appeared.

Just Moments Ago...

Gigi was lying down for her nap and I could hear from downstairs that she was finally silent.

As I started to allow myself to drift off, a sudden, loud bang startled me. I called up to Gigi and she was OK. (I almost ran upstairs but I'm not able to do this very quickly since I'm 6+ months pregnant. It was actually quicker to glean information from communication.)

"What was that noise?"
"I don't know."
"Was it in Mummy's bedroom or your bedroom?"
"My bedroom."
"You don't know what happened?"
"No, but Arthur [her talking doll] started talking very loudly and it woke me up."
"OK, where's Arthur now?"
"In my hand."
"Take him back to bed and go for a nap."
"OK, Mummy."

She was unfazed. I didn't want to alarm her by suggesting that anything bad or scary had happened. I still don't know what made that loud bang.

Update

I'm taking time off from readings to have my baby and then to care for my baby. I'm giving readings to the last clients over the next month-and-a-half. I've announced that I'll be back next year but, honestly, I don't know if I will be.

I'm tired of giving readings now. I think I'm burnt out again. I read an article in New York Magazine that described being burnt out as a battery that no longer holds its charge. That's how I feel.

I will continue to write here about my experiences -- and more frequently than has been usual--and, probably, I will give readings once I've had my baby.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Nice

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.

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

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

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.

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...

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."

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.

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.

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.

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?"
"Darfy."

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?"
"Yes."
"What's his name?"
"Darfy."
"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."

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.

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.

"What?"

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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
Hardcover
Franklin Watts (1983)

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?"

Hmmm....

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'?

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.

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.

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!!

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!"

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.

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.

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.