A Medium, or just well done? The Death of a child is always tragic.

The Death of a child is always tragic. Dreams play a huge part in the work of a psychic and their development, sometimes it is the only way you can be reached by spirit. I’m sure many of you have been woken in the middle of the night by someone sitting on the side of your bed. You wake and no one’s there, going back to sleep you find yourself dreaming about a loved one. If you’re lucky you may even wake and see them there. I’ve even had old pets make appearances. I read Carl Jung’s book on dreams and worked out my own series of symbols for different events and they’ve helped me ever since. After being woken up in the middle of the night, by someone in spirit hammering on the bed head and yelling my name, I finally took the big step and decided to promote myself as a psychic/medium. A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse. So I had business cards made up and dropped them off in various places around town. The following day a woman rang and made an appointment for 1p.m. After having a snack for lunch I felt incredibly tired, flopping back on my recliner I found myself drawn into a dream. A small child, with short-cropped blonde hair and wearing a singlet and shorts ran up down outside on the veranda, calling my name. I opened the window and looked out, I figured that she was a girl. She came up close to the window, turned towards the road, pointed and said, “Look, that’s my mummy and daddy.” I peered out and saw a black sedan pull up. A tall, dark-skinned woman dressed in a black coat steeped out, followed by a white,  slightly shorter man dressed the same. I woke up at 12.55p.m, brushed my teeth, made sure the back room was ready and went out onto the veranda. A black sedan pulled up, a tall, dark woman and a shorter white man, both dressed in black stepped out of the car.

Nobody likes to see a loved one die, especially when it’s a child. The names I use in this blog will always be fictitious, which is good because I can’t remember them anyway. I’ll call the girl’s parents, Jesse and Alan. I waited at the top stairs leading to the veranda to greet them, Jesse, a handsome woman of Islander descent took my hand in an iron grip. Alan smiled grimly and said hello. After ushering them to my room we sat down and I closed my eyes, almost immediately an elderly woman came to me and said she was Jesse’s grandmother. Jesse piped up and said angrily, “I don’t want to talk to her. Alan get the photo from the car.” Rude I know, yet the woman was obviously burdened by guilt. Alan returned and handed me a photograph in a frame. It showed a small blonde girl hugging a worried looking dog, Jesse hissed, “This is who I want to talk to.” I wasn’t going to argue. I had an overwhelming feeling of anxiety for the dog at first. The girl, I’ll call her Carly was the girl from the veranda and I knew then I had something of a headstrong character on my hands. Now this wasn’t my first rodeo, as you know I did this at the spiritualist church but it was my first as a professional.

After rubbing the photograph for a few seconds I doubled over in agony and fell forward. A huge weight pushed into my chest and I couldn’t breathe, everything went black. Then I saw it, a large, white 4WD backing over Carly, a purple flower, then a woman screaming. Alan helped me up off the floor and I regained my composure. The grandmother came through again, this time I saw Carly standing next to her, holding a bedraggled, white chicken in her arms. My motto was, try to tell them what you see. Jesse accepted at first that I was actually seeing her daughter. If she wasn’t terrorising the dog she would have the chooks herded up under the back steps. Now I could get down to some good communication. Naturally people are always worried about the state of their loved ones and if they are happy. I could assure her that Carly seemed bright and chirpy enough. Then Jesse said, “No, it can’t be my daughter, you’re making this up.” She began to cry, huge heart-rending sobs, I waited and handed her the tissues. “Look,” I said, “You told her to stay where she was while you backed the ute up. Why am I being shown the purple flower again?” – “She got out and opened the gates for me and I told her to stay there until I called. The next thing I know there’s a bump. I get out of the truck and she’s – there underneath it, I ran over her. She’d picked a flower, a bloody weed from the lawn and wanted to give it to me.”

I found it difficult to stop myself from tearing up while they comforted each other, Carly returned and said quite clearly, “Tell Mummy about all this stuff.” The next thing I saw  a child’s body decomposing in a coffin, a coffin filled with toys, cards, dolls, toy trucks. I told Jesse about the items I saw, “Oh yeah, people put all sorts of things in there. the trucks? They were her favourite toys. I guess you’re right, you have my girl.” It turned into a formal chat, and a few deceased relatives from both sides popped in for a moment. Carly gave me the guided tour of her bedroom and toy box at home, plus her favourite pets on their hobby farm. I found out why the dog looked so anxious, she would hold it in a headlock and drag it around. It spent half of its life hiding from her. We went a little over time and they left but not without making another appointment. I tried to talk Jesse out of it, she had her proof of life after death. Carly still existed somewhere. “No!” – “Okay, how about next week?” I soon learned that Carly also took after her mother for being obstinate.

After they left I set aside some time to do a postal reading. A woman in England had heard about me from a group member and sent me a letter to ask about her deceased husband. With a nice hot cup of tea on the table I sat back with the letter and tuned in. I read it out aloud at first, to get the feel of the man and gave it some thought. Reaching over for my cup I looked at the chair next to me. A set of legs, obviously a small child’s appeared from above the knees down. A pair of slip on shoes were on the feet. Carly’s voice came through loud and clear, “Oh, he’s a funny man he is Laurie, he’s got no legs and he’s laughing.” It turned out the man had actually lost his legs in an accident. I continued with the reading, painfully aware of Carly’s presence. I finished writing the return letter, grabbed my wallet and left for the shop around the corner. “Where are we going?” – “The shop, Carly.” – “What are you buying?” – “The paper, milk and bread.” – “Oh.” I looked down and now there’s half of her and her hand is in mine. I returned home ten minutes later and placed two Cornetto ice creams, a bag of jelly beans and a bottle of lemonade on the kitchen table. Wife, “What’s this?” – “I, err, hum don’t know.”

It seems quite bizarre writing about half of a little girl in spirit. Someone on the other side must have told her it’s not polite to scare the new medium. It didn’t stop her from visiting – every day. She became a fixture and sad to say, so did Jesse, her mum. She came for her second visit and I told her that she needed to go and get some grief counselling, that I could only do so much and she replied, “Yes and you’re the only one who can see her, I’ve been going to others and they can’t see a bloody thing. They tell me how sweet and innocent she was. Pig’s arse, she was a little shit.” You can’t argue with that. I would see Jesse once a month after that, she paid her fee and remarked that it was far cheaper than therapy. After this next incident I believed that Carly was indeed a little shit. When she was alive it seemed she looked for trouble, Jesse took her into town one day, Carly stopped, hiked up her skirt took her knickers off and gave them to her mother with, “Ahh, that feels much better, I’m cool.” She would sit next to me on the lounge to watch TV, then snuggle up close. I could feel her against me. Then she would start, “Guess what, my mummy and daddy are fighting, she threw a bottle at him and broke it on the wall.” Or, “Guess what, my mummy and daddy are driving to see the naughty ladies and they broke the window on their new car.” An explanation is needed here, Jesse was something of a warrior woman and didn’t do conflict management well at all. They had, unbeknownst to me bought a new 4WD in between visits, a black one. A rock went through the back window, smashing it on their way south. The naughty ladies?

Jesse’s aunt was a lesbian and lived with her partner interstate, to call them, naughty ladies gave me the impression that Carly spent an inordinate amount of time perving on people. She became quite proficient at impressing visions on me and showed me where her parents were staying. Showing me through a rather run-down cottage she stopped in the main bedroom, opened a drawer in a bedside cupboard and began placing sex toys on the bed. All the while giggling, with her hand against her mouth. She would come in my sleep and show me how her body had decomposed. I spoke with Jesse again and urged her to seek counselling and that she couldn’t hang on to Carly forever. After a few months Carly stopped appearing, good for me, not for Jesse. She turned up without an appointment and I had to tell her that her girl had moved on. It didn’t go well, she cursed and abused me, called me a fraud, cried and stormed out. I bumped into her a few months later at a local market, if looks could kill. I knew then that I should have been firm right from the start. It wasn’t for the money, I’d lived without it up until then. Pride, prestige? I don’t think so. In retrospect I feel that it was Carly herself who kept me from being more forceful. I seemed to be the only one she wanted to talk through and talk she did. She loved to sit in the back of our car when we went for a drive, and after a while she would lean between the seats and chat to me. I actually looked forward to her popping in and she would often sit in the corner of my room while I saw another client.

Jesse didn’t want to know how I knew Carly had moved on, so I will share it with you here.  The day I found out I sat back in the recliner chair, closed my eyes and a vision of great beauty came to me. I stood on the start of a long, wooden jetty which stretched out into the clam waters of a huge lake. The water, although grey gave off a feeling of peace and serenity. I couldn’t see where the water ended and the silvery sky began. Halfway along the jetty stood a small, wooden hut with steps leading down to the water. A rowboat bobbed in the water next to them. I couldn’t walk onto the planks, I needed to reach the hut. Two figures stepped out, one a tall woman dressed in a long robe, the other, Carly. Her hair seemed to have grown a little and she wore her usual singlet and panties. She ran towards me, stooped and called out, “Thank you.” Turned and ran back to the boat. The woman helped her in and the boat floated out into the lake and faded away. I sobbed, not only for the beauty of it, the scenery or the transition but for a wonderful little girl who was no longer in this life.

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Next week: Group Reading.

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32 thoughts on “A Medium, or just well done? The Death of a child is always tragic.

  1. liz blackmore

    Well, Laurie, like many others commented, you are full of surprises. It’s funny how many who have an ability to see, come together and connect without even knowing that the person they speak with has the same or similar ability. Whenever someone comes to tell an experience, it catches so many off guard.
    I am pleased to know this side of you, despite you not using your gift to the fullest, I’ll bet that you still have instances that call your attention. I come from a line of seers (maternal side) and I too, have backed off on the full blown interactions, but I still have ‘hiccups’ that make me shake my head and want to speak out. I wonder why I don’t.
    Hugs to you!

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      That’s me Liz, nothing but a lucky dip of surprises. 🙂 It’s probably why people are drawn together like this Liz. I gave up doing it as a part time occupation in 2002 Liz, I do however make use of it now and then for my own needs and close family. I actually got sick of working with people in the end, sad I know but other things were calling. I still pass the occasional message on but not often. It’s usually fear of ridicule and rejection that stop people from speaking out Liz. Thanks so much for dropping by Liz.
      Cheers
      Laurie.

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  2. mindlovemisery

    My pets always come to me as well. My mom and I have the strangest conversations she will call to let me someone has died or a pet has died and I will say that I already know before she tells me and she will be like “Did you have a dream?” She calls me when she is worried about someone asking if I had a dream. Sometimes she dreams of the things I don’t want to talk to her about which is very frustrating. When Sam’s father had a heart attack before we’d even gotten word Isadora woke up crying grandpa’s heart hurts. She was 3. She sometimes literally questions my thoughts. Why are you thinking about such and such mama. Could be a totally random thing I am thinking and nothing I would have said to her outloud nothing I would have said outoud to anyone even because I certainly don’t say everything I think. I don’t think I am really very psychic myself personally. I am not as psychic as you are and I would love to share dreams with you.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      This can run in families Yves, there’s no greater connection than the person who bore you. Your daughter seems to be very connected, as many young children are. The thing is Yves we all have the ability to be psychic. It’s an instinct that’s been with us since we gained some level of self awareness. However it has been relentlessly demonised by many religions, probably because people who have nurtured their gift can ‘see’ what is there. The only reason I managed to accomplish the things I did was because of belief in myself and a lot of practice. Only a small percentage of my dreams are prophetic, the rest fall into the following categories: lurid, violent, weird and head scratching. 🙂

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  3. patgarcia

    Good morning Bro,

    This is an excellently written article.

    I believe in life after death. I believe there is eternity, and there is for me, the Creator who is professed in the Christian faith, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. I also don’t doubt the things you have seen and experienced. I believe they exist.
    What you have experienced is very heavy, and I must admit that I don’t want to be in your shoes. To see into the past or the future is a heavy burden, and it is not something that I am equipped to deal with. That is one of the reasons one of my favorite verses in the Bible, is that we walk by faith and not by sight.

    Thank you for your actual documentation of your experience. It has confirmed my belief to continue walking in the confession of my Christian faith.

    Shalom,
    Patti

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Sis, I try to get my point across. I don’t doubt them either. The fear of death is a very real thing and people want to know what happens, or if there is something there. Some can’t rely on faith alone. I take a great deal of satisfaction when I can connect someone with a deceased loved one.
      Cheers
      Laurie.

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  4. Jane Dougherty

    You never cease to amaze me, Laurie. You’re living several lives, not just one. I have had weird experiences and reading this has made me think that they weren’t just coincidences after all.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Why thank you Jane. I think all the lives are catching up as well. These posts seem to be bringing people’s experiences out in the open. There are many things that go on which leave us thinking.

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  5. davidprosser

    It’s just as well you don’t do this any more Laurie as it must be a great strain. I’m sure if you did you’d be inundated with requests and no doubt mine would be in there somewhere.
    It’s a great relief to most people to believe something exists after death and though I always felt that the energy from our bodies is released after death and doesn’t dissipate immediately I am never sure what form it takes.
    My Best to you.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I don’t have the time David, when you’re younger and healthier it’s okay. Now? No, I might chat to someone who pops up as it were but I don’t go out of my way. It is a relief to many and I think, well I’ve seen this energy released when my mother passed. That’s another story though and I’ve seen it manifest many times in readings. There’s something there after death.
      Take care David.
      Cheers
      Laurie.

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  6. suzjones

    I would say that Carly is creating havoc somewhere. What a treasure.
    In the past I have been woken and seen men standing by my bed but I was terrified and screamed. Then they disappeared.
    I have heard our dog on occasion as well. He’s been gone now for a couple of years.
    And now I’m rambling and must get ready for the day that unfortunately contains a funeral.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I think so too. 🙂 It can be disturbing to find people standing next to your bed. I have been known to ask them to politely fuck off and let me sleep. Come back tomorrow. 😦 I went to a funeral on Friday and had a little chat with the lady involved. Oh and the old bloke hiding in the toilet cubicle. there’s never a dull moment.

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      1. suzjones

        I can’t say that I have the experiences you do however I think there is enough going on in my head without having people pop up everywhere and having to deal with that a well.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Olga, it was the least I could do for her and as you know, you can’t make a person go to therapy. I’m awfully glad Carly moved on, she would have worn me out with her chatter.

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  7. Raani York

    This was quite interesting, Laurie. Your psychic ability must have developed quite early since you had a little companion with you!
    I heard before sometimes the loved ones here on earth don’t want to let go, even though their passed relatives were ready a long time ago.
    It must be much worse for parents, in particular Mothers.
    This is not to excuse Jesse’s aversion against you after Charly had moved on… I probably just try to explain what she might have felt.
    And try to hide how deeply this post has touched me!

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Raani, there’s always someone hanging around, even now. It’s extremely hard for people to let go, especially when it’s a child. Guilt played a big part here, which doesn’t help. I can’t blame Jesse, I think a part of her died when she ran over her little girl. More touching stories to come.
      Laurie.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Patricia, I’m glad you’re enjoying them. There’s only one thing that scares me and that’s world leaders who still think they’re living in the 1900’s.

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