I See Dead People . . . In A Documentary

Today, the documentary about my life/work begins. I'm more nervous than I thought that I'd be but definitely not as nervous as my first national TV appearance. I'm used to the camera, I guess, but I can't really believe that it's happening.

Gigi had me awake from 3:00 - 5:00 this morning, so I'm not exactly chipper.

Sleepless

At the moment, I'm listening to talk radio on the station on which I have often been a guest. I accidentally changed some function on our elaborate home-theatre system and, this being the second time tonight, I can't be bothered to problem-solve my way through it again.

I have insomnia and I think that it's due to this illness.

Anyway, last night (Saturday), I dreamt that a major bank was seized by many men. There were many hostages. I don't know the location but I know that the motive behind the crime wasn't entirely related to monetary gain. There was more of a 'terrorist' element than financial motivation. I wish I knew the location. I haven't listened to the news, so I don't know if it has already happened.

Me, In Translation

Will I get lost in translation? I have a client who does not speak English at all and she has recruited someone to translate for her in order to have a reading. This is a new one for me.

An Interesting Experience

Last night, my two-year-old daughter ran into the darkened kitchen and came running back out at double the speed.

"Mummy!" she called. "Mummy, 'cared!" She had never told me that she was frightened before.

"Oh, come here, my baby," I told her. "What are you afraid of?"

"Kitchen. Dark."

I took her into the kitchen, flipped on the light and showed her that everything was okay. Satisfied, we walked back into the foyer.

For some reason that I can't recall, we started singing a song from a Backyardigans episode: It's Great To Be A Ghost.

When I make that moaning sound,
I get the urge to float around.
With my arms out before me, I can float all day
And there's a word I heard a ghost once say
It's boo...

There is a dance that accompanies the music and we love to act it out.

Then, she started talking about "a ghost". I couldn't understand what she
was saying, so I asked her questions that sounded similar:

"Do you see a ghost, Gigi?"

"Yes."

"Where is the ghost, honey?"

Then, she took me back through the kitchen and down the step to the mudrooom area. She stopped at the top of the stairs to the basement.

"There," she pointed without prompting. She was pointing to the bottom of the stairs. I couldn't see anything.

"The ghost is in the basement?"

"Yes."

"What does the ghost look like?"

I forgot that I was speaking to a just-turned-two-year-old. The question didn't make sense to her and I was at a loss for any questions that she would understand.

I had to wonder: Had she orchestrated our play to tell me about a ghost?

The Spectre of Danger

Exposure. Transparency. I thought about these words while reading a book recently--a children's book--that I had considered to be wonderfully original. The main character--a superintendent's child--enters the apartment of a quirky, nay strange, tenant and finds herself looking through objects: everything but the ceiling in this apartment is made of glass including the floor. She can even see the tenants below.

The issue of transparency in this novel is not incidental or an accident of production. Olivia Kidney, the titular character created by Ellen Potter, finds a world turned inside out in which what isn't normally seen is exposed. The author uses various devices such as humour and psychic phenomena in order to achieve this and Olivia learns that things don't always appear as they seem: this is sometimes dangerous and sometimes not.

Reading this book brought back so many memories. Back in the mid-90s, I lived in a three-story walk-up in the middle of downtown. It wasn't in the least glamourous: dingy, yellow walls absorbed the smoke from unidentified burning substances while a feckless 'superintendent' sat on the front steps mentally recording everyone's activities. I didn't want to be there but I couldn't bring myself to leave: there was something familiar about the bizarre array of occupants, even about the strangeness of everyone and everything. It takes time to reach that level of familiarity.

Olivia Kidney knows this well. She has moved from building to building as her father is fired and hired as superintendent around the city. Settling and developing friendships are difficult--if not foreign--ideas for Olivia and her initial uneasiness isn't exactly quelled by the occupants of this latest building.

Again, more memories arise for me. An elderly woman befriended me. 'Ursula' called me--whether I liked it or not--daily and once cryptically warned me: "Nothing is as it seems in this building." When pressed for more information, she squirmed away from the conversation. I never did find out what she meant but Olivia is more fortunate in that she gains insight into the nature of both her surroundings and her relationships.

In this little girl, you'll find courage, strength and a fractured sense of well-being after traumatic experiences. You'll also find sorrow, anger and a determination to conquer her fears.

You'll also find her funny because Ellen Potter has a sense of humour and she's not afraid to show it. At the outset of the novel, Olivia carries around a book--about seances--that once belonged to her older brother. The following is the most original passage that I've ever read concerning the paranormal:

The first chapter of the book was full of warnings. It told of all the bad things that could happen if you didn't conduct your seance properly. It seemed that dead people could be quite ornery about being disturbed. If you didn't summon them in the right way, they might pinch your leg or tackle you to the floor. Then there were the boring dead people. If you had the misfortune to summon one of these, they could yabber on and on about bathroom towels and how the weather was so terribly changeable, and what sorts of plants were best for indoors. And they would not leave either, even after the seance was over. That was because none of the other dead people would talk to them. So they would float next to you, blathering and blathering without stopping, night and day. In some instances boring dead people literally drove living people insane. In fact, the book said, many psychiatric hospitals are 40 percent full of people who have accidentally summoned a boring ghost.

One problematic area of Olivia Kidney is the pace. Olivia leaves an elevator and enters the unknown; maybe she lingers in certain areas longer than necessary. It did seem to slow considerably in the middle but it regained its momentum near the end.

At one point, Potter introduces the possibility of insanity but it is fleeting. You are supposed to decide if Olivia is delusional or if she is experiencing the paranormal. I don't think that this device was necessary. First, Olivia Kidney is not a genre gothic novel and the question of sanity is not required. Secondly, the novel could stand its own ground in an argument about the paranormal. There are sufficient numbers of those who believe in the paranormal to ensure that this book will reach a wide audience.

There are so many features of this book that deserve discussion but the scope of this blog entry won't cover them. Besides, it's better to discover these for yourself. At any rate, this is the kind of book that you'll read in uncomfortable positions if necessary.

Book Information:



Author: Ellen Potter
Illustrated: Peter H. Reynolds
Publisher: Puffin Books (2004)
Format: Paperback, 160 pp
Trim Size: 12.9 cm x 19.7 cm
ISBN: 0-14-240234-6
Reading Level: Ages 8 - 12

Lenses

I've been so busy lately that I've hardly had time to consider what a documentary about me and my work is going to look like. I mean, I'm flattered and honoured that I've been asked but I doubt that I will even watch it once it's complete.

(Actually, I can't believe that it's going to happen: I forgot about the proposal sitting in my inbox and, when I responded affirmatively, I didn't know if the offer was still on the table or not).

I've never watched anything that I've done in the media before. Reading interviews can be upsetting and I certainly don't want to pick my television appearances to pieces (and I'm sure that I could). After being on the radio a dozen times, I don't bother with recordings of the hour-long sessions.

Through A Lens

I was approached over the long weekend to do a documentary about me and my work and I've agreed.

A Note On My Absence

I'm still sick but I'll get back into the swing of things as soon as this illness is gone.

End of Day

I've had the luxury today of staying in bed while Scully takes care of me. I have three comforters on and I'm still cold.

Yesterday, I had a scheduled telephone reading and, given my babysitting woes, Scully had come home early to babysit while I did my readings.

"Mummy! Mummy!! MUMMY!!!" she yelled, over and over again. Bear in mind that our house is large enough to require intercoms and she could still be heard. My client was less than impressed and I had to put her on hold (at least, I hope that she was on hold) while I called to my husband to keep the baby quietly occupied.

It was bound to happen that being a Mummy and a psychic would eventually meet at the same spot. Poor baby, I really wanted to take care of her instead of doing the reading. She was accustomed to having her dinner prepared by me and that was what caused the fussing.

Aaaack!

I'm sick again: fever, chills, sore throat, etc. I think it was only two weeks ago that I was sick with something similar; in fact, we all were. Scully has been very good about taking care of me and the baby.

I had a light day for readings today and this worked out well for me.

Today, the bathroom door was difficult to open when a client was trying to exit and I'm afraid she worried that it might be a ghost. It was just an old door in an old house that refused to cooperate but I could see how it might have been frightening considering that it was my house.

Ken Burns's Jazz documentary is on right now and my laptop battery is running low.

New York Photo Exhibit


Metropolitan Museum of Art"The Medium Eva C. with a Materialization on Her Head and a Luminous Apparition Between Her Hands," Albert von Schrenck-Notzing, 1912

If you happen to be in New York, the Metropolitan Museum of Art offers an exhibit of photographs entitled, "The Perfect Medium: Photography and the Occult".

According to the above-linked article, the exhibit itself makes no claim about the authenticity of the phenomena depicted in the photographs.

It runs until the end of December.

Mind Over Matter

All those who believe in psychokinesis raise my hand. - Stephen Wright

I once sat in the same room with a person who seriously believed that he could alter time. He also believed that, if I looked hard enough, I could watch him astrally project. Frankly, I couldn't find an excuse quickly enough to leave. My university years were, indeed, difficult: I found some solace in academia because it distracted me from...well, from myself.

As a teen, however, I had a voracious appetite for books about ghosts: it was largely due to the fact that I felt comforted by the sense that others experienced what I did. One area of the 'paranormal', however, always troubled me: psychokinesis.

"Hey," you might object. "You see dead people and make a living by telling people about their past, present and future. Why is the leap to a belief in mind-moving-matter so difficult to make?"

After a lifetime of experience in the area of the paranormal, I can honestly say that I don't know. It just is. (Years of studying Philosophy really paid off :-) The aforementioned gentleman was for this belief and other reasons, I believe, delusional; there are, however, presumably sane people who make claims about moving objects or determining outcomes using their mind.

Well, maybe it's because I can't do it that I find it hard to believe. It may exist, this mind-power, but I haven't yet witnessed it. (I was never convinced by Uri Gellar). Perhaps I'm not your typical psychic. I'm not saying that it doesn't happen; I'm saying that I simply don't actively believe in it.

Mind Under Matter

I also don't believe in the efficacy of throat lozenges, either, but I'm sucking on them constantly because I'm sick. We're all sick with the flu.

I'd like to will us to get better.

Vicissitudes

Yay, I have a babysitter - March 2005
Do I? - May 2005
Well, no I don't - June 2005
No and then yes! - July 2005
Alas, no again - July 2005
But, yes...- August 2005

And, again, no.

Oh, well, my troubles notwithstanding, I have managed to get out to do the DVD bargain-bin rounds:


The Lost Voyage (2001)


Killer Instinct (2000)


A Bucket of Blood (1959)


Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959)


The Terror (1963)


The Little Shop of Horrors (1960)

Where Do I Go To Complain?

I'm lagging behind in my posts to this blog. Admittedly, I have been feeling in need of a vacation from my job (i.e., readings) but I know that one is, indeed, far away: January.

I didn't want to whine, so I kept silent.

I had dreamt of the New Orleans/Mississippi catastrophe some time ago and I can't find the reference in my archives. I saw hundreds of angry ghosts marching down the street and they didn't know where to go. I know that I mentioned it but I can't remember when. I went looking for it just moments ago because I have been bothered about the dream.

Anyway, I promise to try to be less like Eeyore the next time I write. Er, not that I'm stuffed with sawdust or anything...

Scary Movies and Stuff

By far, I usually have more female clients than male but this summer has seen so many male clients. (My clients hear about me through word-of-mouth primarily but there are many who have seen me on television or heard me on radio or stumbled across my website.)

Gigi knows my work as "seeing my ladies".

I think many men are reluctant to seek help of a spiritual nature.

At any rate, the house has been quiet as far as activity goes though the cold spots are always with us.

I have had to turn down requests for investigations and parties due to the fact that I have no time.




I watched The Ring 2 yesterday with my sister and it seems likely that there will be The Ring 3 since so many questions are left unanswered. Still, I enjoyed it far more than I did the first; however, I didn't find this one frightening, either. I'm not sure what would frighten me.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose. That looks frightening and I don't even believe in demonic possession. We'll have to wait and see if it actually does scare me. If anyone reading this sees this movie, I'd be interested to know what you thought of it.

Body and Soul

A marching band consisting of Scully and Gigi beat loudly, hand and foot, while my sister scraped uneaten portions of a cereal bar from the bottom of her feet. She was cleaning the nursery while I was running around getting ready to do my readings.

"It must be Friday," my husband joked.

Fridays are insane even when my reading load is relatively light: the logistics of childcare before, during and after readings; ironing Scully's clothes for work (I know, I should do it earlier), cleaning the house to make it presentable while picking up constantly after a two-year-old bundle of energy.

Even in the motion, activity and noise, I was able to stop and think: They are the reason that I do everything.

Grey Lines

It's muggy and hot today making it difficult to do much around here.

My dreams have been steeped in the past but not in a bad or unpleasant manner. People, places and shades of my former self have been revisited as if it's meant to be a gentle reminder of how I arrived here. Issues that had once been stamped in black and white were actually grey and I was surprised upon waking.

It must have something to do with my sister visiting for extended lengths of time and the past coming up in our conversations.

Alabama's ashes will be here tonight and, then, we need to decide what we want to do with them. This is something I've never had to do before. We loved her, our grey cat, and respected her deeply.

The last comical memory that I have of her occurred about a week before her death: while in the front yard watering the gardens, I caught a grey glimpse scuttling through the hedges. My first thought was that Alabama had escaped from the house.

"Oh, no!" I thought. "She's not supposed to be outdoors." I ran alongside the bushes until they ended at the driveway, hoping to catch her and take her back inside.

Imagine my surprise when the grey line of fur became black, then black with a white line along its body and then definitely not my cat.

"Aaaaaack!" I jumped and ran inside.

Ghosts

Gigi wanted to watch The Backyardigans. If you haven't watched it: the central characters engage each other in imaginative play and the show is predicated upon the idea that they can be anything of their choosing.

We only had one episode recorded: "It's Great To Be A Ghost." The music of this cartoon is, in general, excellent: polka, jazz, rock, etc. This particular episode featured a 1920s soundtrack and great gothic outdoor scenery as well as a detailed, decrepit house.

The opening title song in this episode is my favourite of their entire repertoire.

Anyway, today, there was a ghost in my backyard and one in my bedroom. The bedroom ghost was actually my maternal grandfather and he was there for only a few seconds. I'm definitely not getting along with my mother at the moment so that might explain his presence.

I figured out why I didn't perceive anything when Gigi's musical toy went off a little while ago. I think it could be a manufacturer's program to attract attention to itself if it has been unused for long periods of time.

I'm glad that it's actually Friday now. Even though it's my busiest day as Mummy and Psychic and Housewife, it's still the promise of a weekend.

My sister has come up to babysit while I do all my readings this week. It is such a great help and she insists that she won't bail on me again. Please keep your fingers crossed for me.

Just Rambling

Wow, I've been neglecting this blog lately. Forgive me. I've been so busy trying to get organized that I appear even LESS organized.

I can't believe the number of paranormal-inspired television shows that are coming up in the Fall. Apparently, people find it quite funny that I don't watch these kinds of shows EVER.

That being said, I absolutely loved Dead Like Me and Six Feet Under: these series were darkly comical, tongue-in-cheek and too short-lived. Dead Like Me was not picked up for a third season and Six Feet Under ended last week in its fourth season.

Movies are another story entirely. I enjoy a good film. I love those crafted in the gothic genre and avoid the blood-and-gore horror.

While Mini-Me sleeps, I think I'll see what's new on Video-on-Demand.

Digging In

I threw myself into work yesterday and dug through piles of paperwork and correspondence with clients. I actually got caught up! I can be so damned efficient when I'm postponing grief.

I think the stress of not having things done was getting to be too much for me. I couldn't enjoy my rare spare time knowing that there was so much to do. I should hire a secretary.

I really felt the pull between motherhood and working: Mini-Me was being babysat in my home and I was working on the floor beneath. She would call me. When she came down the stairs at different points, she would run to me and ask to be held. Of course, I held her and I felt guilty for wondering why my babysitter wouldn't keep her entertained in her large nursery as I had requested: wanting to work and wanting not to want to work. At times, I really wanted to send the sitter home and just hold my baby some more.

I just knew that if I could plough through, things would be better for all of us. There would be more of me to give my family.

I spoke with Scully about my desire to take a month off to do nothing but write while I have childcare. He agreed that it would be a good idea. Unfortunately, that only leaves January since I'm already booking into December. A writing vacation! Well, it won't really be a vacation but I look forward to it with the same kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for such occasions.

I just discovered that my mother inadvertantly referred two clients to me today. They called for appointments and mentioned having spoken with my mother. My mother has it that she was talking about me to someone else, was overheard and that's how it happened.