Phone Tapping? The room, already dim seemed to grow darker. A faint hum started off in the distance, slowly growing in intensity until my ear drums vibrated. The room came back, I opened my eyes and saw the anxious look on the face off my sitter, Joanne. Her eyes seemed huge through the lenses of her glasses. I closed mine again and wished I hadn’t. Lights flashed past and the blurred faces in the crowd appeared and just as suddenly vanished. The hum became a roar now as I felt the small, shaky steering wheel in my hands. Staring ahead I became aware of being in a metal cage, Then it came to me, a racing car. Clenching the steering wheel in my now trembling hands I went into the approaching corner, too fast. The rear of the sprint car slewed around, I corrected, slammed into the barricade and stared at the horrified faces looking back at me. Fire. The last thing I saw were hungry, searing flames reaching for my face. Then, silence, peace and a familiar floating sensation. A man’s voice came through, ‘Tell her it’s Dad, tell her.’ Groggy, shaken I opened my eyes again. She sat forward in her chair as I fumbled with the deck of cards in my still shaking hands. I’m not keen on fiery deaths and this one felt all so real. Taking a sip of tea from my mug I sat back and relayed what I had seen and gave her the message. Picking up the box of tissues from the floor I handed them over, ‘Thanks, how, how did you know all of this?’ – ‘Well, I just do. You’re here for a reading and obviously want contact, now you have it.’ We discussed her Dad for a while, he’d been a racing car driver and spent his spare time diving at various speedways in Queensland. He showed me his last one. ‘Look,’ I said as gently as I could, ‘he really didn’t feel anything.’ – ‘But he burned to death, surely……’ Her words hung there for a moment. ‘I felt his passing, he… well he was pissed off about it, there was something wrong with his carburetor.’ She took this in for a moment and said, ‘Are you sure he’s okay?’ – ‘Well I reckon, he’s going on with some jokes now.’ She brightened up at that and the reading went on, nothing earth shattering only a father reconnecting with his daughter and giving her solace about his passing. He waffled on answering personal questions, talking about her children, all in all a good reading. When her hour was up she left the room feeling elated. The next sitter came in with my new mug of tea and I began her reading, nothing unusual here. My night had been organised by Jesse, Carly’s Mum and she had lined up several friends. These were people who I’d never met before, nor had Jesse told me anything about them. The following morning I received a phone call from Joanne, it went like this: ‘I don’t know if I really believe what you told me last night now.’ – ‘Why not, your Dad gave you plenty of proof that it was him?’ – ‘Well… I was talking to a friend and she said nobody could know that much about a stranger.’ – ‘I did.’ – ‘She said you must have been reading my mail, or even tapping my phone line to know all of that.’ I left the incredulous retort unsaid as I composed myself, then I said gently, ‘You’ve never met me before last night, right?’ – ‘Yes.’ – ‘And I don’t even have your phone number or address, right?’ – ‘Right.’ – ‘Then how the bloody hell could I tap your line or read your mail?’ – ‘Well, hmm I don’t know.’
These anecdotes are coming as I remember them and not in any particular order. Over time I added some new skills to my repertoire. Always looking for something different I decided to try letting the spirit take over and speak to the sitter. This is a practice not overly common today, in the early part of the 20th century many mediums practised it, some faked it others didn’t. Believe me I didn’t enter into this willy-nilly. I gave it a lot of practice with close friends first, and scared the crap out of them too. Before any reading I usually found myself heading for the toilet, nerves played a big part, hey come on, it’s stage fright. Once I started the take-over business then I found myself running to the loo a few minutes beforehand. I would never spring this method on a sitter. If someone was there in spirit I would inform the sitter and ask if they wanted to give it a try. No one ever said no. This was how it worked. I always performed a quick meditation while sitting on the loo beforehand, so my consciousness would be elevated. (There were few interruptions in there) After asking the sitter to remain quiet and if they saw anything, not to touch me, as the shock to the system can be quite intense, I would begin. Eyes closed, breathing evenly I let my body relax. Normally I would see the spirit then feel a heaviness at the base of my skull. A pushing, pulling sensation then I would feel myself hanging out, over on one side or the other. The funny thing is I talked but didn’t know what I’d said. I couldn’t open my eyes, didn’t have a clue what the sitter was saying, yet I found myself conversing with someone else not present in the room. I was receiving insights about me while the person in spirit was doing all the work. hardly seems fair taking the money.😉 The exit usually occurred quickly, leaving me feeling dazed for a few minutes. Invariably upon opening my eyes I would see one of two things: a sitter crying softly or one trying to get out of the room. The common remark was, ‘Your eyes, they weren’t your eyes.’ That’s right folks they weren’t. One funny thing happened, well not for the sitter. I sat tuning-in before the first client of the day and meditated on my totem animal, a grizzly bear. (I also do some Shamanic work) The world of animal spirits is one I find interesting and will talk about in another post. Suffice to say my sitter turned up early and I didn’t fully disengage from the meditation. ‘I’m sorry officer, I didn’t know it was illegal to drive under the influence of bear.’🙂 Can you see the resemblance? Settling down in my room I went through the preliminaries closed my eyes and after a few moments I heard a squeal, ‘Bear, it’s a bear, oh my God it’s a bloody bear.’ Oops it was definitely a case of, ‘Here’s one I prepared earlier.’ This brings us to:-
Old Blue Eyes. I’ll call him Dave, a young man in his late twenties he lived alone in his deceased father’s house. I visited him along with one of my clients, Diana who had taken on the voluntary role of manager. A psychic in the making I think she wanted to learn all she could. We arrived at Dave’s place at 1 pm. The house, a typical Queenslander from the 1930’s sat back on the big allotment. Huge clusters of Chinese Elms threatened to devour the house, casting dim shadows over the peeling, red tin roof. The leaves oozed out of rusting gutters and fluttered onto the derelict cars parked tightly against the side of the house. We both stood for a moment at the front gate, I glanced at her and raised my eyebrows, she smiled and said, ‘No, the Addams Family don’t live here.’ Whistling the theme tune to myself we walked up the path, then mounted the creaky stairs. Dave peered at us through the wooden louvres on the veranda door. I stared back and watched as a little light came on his eyes and thought, Well, at least someone’s home. A tall, bearded, skinny man he reluctantly opened the door, ushered us inside and led us into the lounge room. I felt the spirit immediately as it hovered close by. Diana spoke with Dave and I heard him say, ‘Okay, you can have a look around.’ I immediately went to the front bedroom, they followed and I began pointing things out, starting with the bedside drawer, ‘Well this is where my wallet, keys and watch are.’ Standing next to a huge silky oak wardrobe I continued, ‘My rifles are in here, there’s the Lee-Enfield .303, a Martini Cadet .32, a Sportco .22 and more ammo in the bottom drawer.’ Dave looked at me as if I were stupid and walked into the hallway, I followed, ‘That’s your room still and the bathroom is…..’ The guided tour went on until I saw the huge Genoa lounge chair, facing the television. I settled in and felt extremely comfortable. I might add, this house was an antique dealers wet dream, the place oozed bargains galore. Dave sat in a chair opposite and Diana stood in the doorway watching. The spirit moved closer and identified itself as Brian, Dave’s Dad. I didn’t say anything as I felt the now familiar pushing and pulling at the base of the skull. I knew what Brian looked like, I saw him close up. A nice man, he had red hair with thick patches of grey, a pleasant face, eyes bluer than Frank Sinatra’s and an eagerness to talk with his son. I stepped aside and let him at it.
I heard a movement near my chair and looked up into Diana’s concerned face, ‘Are you alright Laurie, you’ve been out for half an hour?’ I looked over at Dave, his eyes were wide open, like stop lights and his face had a grey colour to it, ‘I’m fine, what about him?’ – ‘He’s okay, I think.’ Dave piped up in a somewhat squeaky voice, ‘Your eyes, you have really, really blue eyes.’ – ‘Sorry Mate, they’re green.’ – ‘No, your eyes were wide open all the time you were talking to me, they’re blue.’ – ‘Nope, it was your Dad you saw.’ He let this statement sink in and thought about it for a moment and blurted out, ‘Oh, you’re one of those psychics aren’t you?’ Gawd help us.
The hanging woman. Diana, ever eager to help lined me up with a friend of hers, a recent widower. He lived in a high set, spec built home in North Ipswich. A basic oblong box, built-in underneath with 13 steps going up to a house-wide, front veranda. Diana would be meeting me there. I parked next to her car on the footpath and made my way across the overgrown, front lawn in the dark. A light glowed from a front room in the house, doing nothing to show me the way. When I reached the bottom step I noticed a fainter glow coming from underneath the house. The entry door stood ajar. I looked in to see a workbench at the back wall, the glow increased and I could see the shadow of a woman swinging from a rope. A faint sound came to me as the rope slid across the wooden beam. A creeeeek, creeeeek, that grated against my nerve endings, like a sadistic teacher setting your teeth on edge, as he drags the chalk down a blackboard. It didn’t take much in the way of deduction to realise his wife had stepped out of this life. The front door swung open as I reached the top stairs, Diana ushered me in and introduced me to Graeme. A huge man, he looked to have lost a lot of weight in a short period of time. Still dressed in his work overalls he shook my hand and we sat at the kitchen table. His three children sat in the darkened lounge watching TV. Diana made coffee while I talked with Graeme. It didn’t take long for his wife, Jean to come through. There would be no take over tonight, Jean was not a happy woman. I looked at Graeme and began talking about his wife, mentioning what I had seen under the house. He nodded and kept drinking his coffee, talking only when one of the children called out. I don’t need confirmation about anything with a reading but it helps if the sitter speaks, it makes for a clear connection with spirit. Graeme stared at me after I related a personal detail from his wife, shook his head and said, ‘You’re a psychic, aren’t you?’ I honestly don’t know what Diana was telling these people. Seeing that in both cases the houses were for sale she probably told them I was a real estate salesman with insight.
Next week: I really need a break! How many times do you have to prove yourself?