A Medium, or just well done? It doesn’t matter how many times you’re right. They come in groups.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’re right, people will still pick you up on one thing. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts a psychic/medium has to prove themselves with every sitting. I’ll call her Tammy. She came to see me on a wet, wintery day. I put the little electric heater on in the reading room and made us both a cup of hot Milo. Like many clients she didn’t know exactly what she wanted other than, ‘Tell me what you see.’ This can be fraught with peril as what you see might not be what they want to know. Luckily things were taken out of my control and a man came through in spirit. His presence was quite strong and he gave me a name straight away, Eric. No formalities here, he appeared in my minds eye larger than life. He lay propped up in a large bed. Dark haired, handsome in a rugged way he smiled broadly at me and said, “So, you can actually see me?’ (Let me say here that when they speak it comes into my mind like a thought.) ‘Yes I can.’ – ‘Good, now tell her I’m okay.’ Those in spirit have a huge need to let the living know that they’re okay, that there’s no more pain. I passed this on to Tammy and she nodded, giving me the old, you’re trying to con me look.
Eric, her Dad, felt her negativity and began to show me exactly how his life went until he passed on from lung cancer. I felt as if I were watching a 3D movie and saw every item in his room. Because he didn’t want to spend his last few months in hospital, his family set the room up with all of his treasures. There were shelves of books, some of which I described to Tammy. Photographs adorned the walls, of family members and friends. Collectable items sat on shelves, he had a TV and record player and I told her about everything I saw. She agreed that what I saw did indeed adorn her father’s room. He showed me his friends who visited and gave me their names and what they talked about. I must admit, I was stoked. This was by far the best reading I’d channelled. He showed me where he worked and the route he took to the station. There were his pets and hobbies, the list goes on. He ended the reading by showing me a Blue cattle dog, which he patted daily. It sat at the entrance to the suburban railway station Eric commuted to work from. He would stop, pat it on the head and give it a treat.

IMG_0003Well, Tammy’s reaction was quite a surprise. She pushed her chair back, stood up and yelled, ‘You’re lying to me, he never owned that dog. He never told us about it. You’re full of shit.’ She flung her money on the table and left. Hmm, I thought, that didn’t go to well at all. I sat back and thought through the reading, trying to see where I’d gone wrong. Oh well, it takes all kinds. Let’s fast forward six months and I’m in town paying a bill. I get off the escalator and head towards the bank, when I hear a woman calling my name. Yes, it’s Tammy. She came closer, stopped about ten feet away and said hurriedly, ‘The dog, it used to wait for Dad every day when he went to work. I told Mum about the reading and she said it was true about the dog, and everything else.’ Then she turned and fled. I felt rather chuffed after that. I knew the reading was good, she did too, deep down. Perhaps I’d frightened her with such a vivid portrayal of her father, who knows? What I do know is this, you can tell 99 truths and it only takes one doubtful piece of information to ruin the whole thing.

I still can’t win. Darkness, utter, complete darkness. I could hear the pinging of cooling metal and smell burnt paint, fuel and cooking human flesh. The darkness retreated and a long road appeared. I stood there trying not to look down into the gully at the twisted, blackened metal. Instead I kept looking away, at the cat’s eyes glimmering on the white line and the lazy flash, flash, flash of blue lights coming from the police car parked further up the road. Her voice cut through my vision, ‘Well come on, tell me how he died.’ – ‘You know how he died,’ I said slowly, part of myself still stayed with the vision, ‘he died instantly in a car crash.’ – ‘That’s not good enough, what was his body like?’ I knew what his body would look like. As a police officer I’d spent hours waiting next to a burnt out car for it to cool down. Then removed the bodies of a man and a boy, burnt and roasted beyond recognition. I didn’t need to see her brother, Peter in that condition. Looking at the car again I saw a perfect, unblemished, white male body, hanging half out of the driver’s window. I said, ‘He was drunk, speeding and lost control. Sliding off the road the car rolled, burst into flames and landed against the fence. He had brown hair and was well built.’ – ‘I want to know what his body looked like.’ Opening my eyes I rubbed them and stared at Rachel. I couldn’t understand why someone would want a description of a charcoaled relative. I’d given his name, description, job, type of car. Still not good enough. ‘Look,’ I tried to keep my tone even, ‘the reason I’m not being shown his burnt body is because of my earlier experience with death by fire.’ She still wasn’t impressed, I went on, ‘Why is it so important that you need a description of the burns?’ – ‘Because if you can’t tell me everything, then you’re a fake.’ I could live with being called a fake. Although I don’t know if I could’ve lived with her knowing that he hadn’t died instantly like the police said. They wanted to save her from the trauma of knowing that he had burnt to death, screaming and wailing while hanging halfway out of the car.

They come in groups. She stood naked in the doorway of a small bedroom. Flicking her long, black hair away from her face, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. Then slid her hands slowly down over her breasts, coming to a stop at her lower abdomen. Turning she stared at the man propped up against the silky oak bedhead. His thick beard couldn’t hide the grin on his face, though thankfully the damp sheet hid him from the waist down. Raising his hand he beckoned her back into the room. The scene changed and I heard a voice say, ‘It’s her sister and her boss.’ Sitting back I took another look at my client and thought, Hmm, it’s not her, her hair’s a different shade and short. Not wanting to beat around the bush I said, ‘Your sister and her boss are having an affair.’ She looked at me for a moment, shook her head and replied, ‘I, well I couldn’t say.’ I described the boss and the scene being played out in the room. Her face turned a little white, ‘Oh, well, maybe.’  Sally, still dressed in her uniform from the chemist shop, primped at her neat hair and asked me for a card. We finished the reading and she left. Half an hour later I received a call from Amanda wanting a reading the following morning.
I held the screen door open for Amanda, she blushed brightly as she squeezed past me and said, ‘I, hmm, think you might recognise me.’ – Keeping a gentlemanly air about me I replied, “I’d know your, err, face anywhere, now come in and we’ll get started.’ She sat down and tried not to look at me, I put on my best, understanding face and said, ‘Look, I don’t judge anybody here. I’m no saint so let’s get started.’ – ‘Thanks, look I, we don’t do it anymore it was…’ I put my hand up, ‘It’s fine, now let’s see what’s happening with you.’ I know she was impressed with the reading and she passed my number around to just about every friend she had. I experienced a burst of calls that went on for weeks.

With Gay abandon. I have no problem with a person’s sexual orientation, which is just as well as a group of Gay men and women, dare I say, came out of the woodwork.  Rory, a tall, David Bowie look-alike arrived for an early appointment. Dressed in Edwardian style coat and pants he brought an aura of laughter and happiness into the room with him. He’d taken a taxi from Fortitude Valley to my home in Ipswich after a gruelling night of clubbing. I went into my usual state of mind and looked at his aura. Bright, vibrant and pulsing it amazed me with its mix of colours. We went through the usual, job, family, money, home and when I arrived at relationship his aura seemed to dim slightly. I picked up an image of a man in his late fifties. I saw him as an old Queen. (The term used for a much older homosexual man) I told Rory and he sat back and laughed. Flicking his hand in the air with a dismissive wave he said, ‘Oh, that’s old Alfie, he’s such a sweetie.’ I took another look at Rory’s aura and saw Alfie, large as life and very dark. ‘I see you’re in a relationship with him.’ – ‘Well, it’s like this, he….’ I broke in, ‘He provides you with money for your, hmm, lavish lifestyle and you repay him with…..’ – ‘Well you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes Laurie.’ He said with a touch of something in his voice. Shame? Self loathing? ‘Look Laurie, he’s not the prettiest thing you’ve seen.’ I nodded, hoping it was at least a sage nod. We completed the reading and Rory left in a swirl, his aftershave outdoing the incense I’d burned earlier.
The following Friday who should turn up but Alfie. A nice sort of bloke who did his best to hide from the old, prying eyes of yours truly. He had plenty to hide. His aura consisted of faded colours, greying around the edges. Expansive, it seemed to fill up the room, this made it easier to see the multitude of black splotches in it. They were of various sizes from pinhead to fist sized. Taking hold of his hands I picked up more information, he was HIV positive. I looked at him for a moment and said, ‘You’re aura tells me that you are quite ill and that you have…’ he broke in and said, ‘Rory told me you were good, go on say it.’ – ‘You have HIV.’ – ‘You knew before I even came here.’ – ‘I had a feeling when I saw you in Rory’s aura.’ – His voice took on a hard edge, ‘You didn’t tell him did you?’ – I thought for a moment before answering, ‘It’s not up to me Alfie, you’re the one who has to tell him.’ The reading didn’t progress well after that, Alfie seemed uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to leave.
The following week was quite interesting and I met every type of gender variation you could name. Even Cherie, a lady/man who castrated himself because he wanted to be a woman. The health system finally took notice and she received the drugs needed to continue with the transformation. Yes they were different and relaxed when they realised I wasn’t judging them. They had all the same life problems as the rest of us: work, money, relationships, loss, grief. Some were deeply troubled souls who, I hope, benefitted from some channelled wisdom. Quite often in cases where people had no one in spirit they would still get a message. Usually one that resonated with them, that gave them hope about their choices. I’ve not coined the term spirit guides in my writing so far, mainly because it’s a term that is bandied about and often refers to some long dead Native American. I do know that there are those in spirit who watch over us, and give us a nudge in the right direction. Yes and they do try to keep us from harm. I have been pulled from behind by my collar, to stop me walking in front of a semi trailer racing past my parked car in a service station. So I tend to think that yes, we have guidance. Is it some great mystic or renowned spiritual leader? I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m a down to earth kind of bloke who swears, has a drink now and then, used to chase women and writes adult books. Perhaps I’d been assigned someone of similar tastes. :-)  Whoever it was always came up with the goods for some of the troubled souls that I met. Don’t get me wrong, just because these people were different it doesn’t make them any more troubled than the rest of us.

Next Week: There’s no hiding from them and If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.

42 thoughts on “A Medium, or just well done? It doesn’t matter how many times you’re right. They come in groups.

  1. Wordifull Melanie

    VEry interesting as always. I have to admire your restraint with some of these people….Geez Louise.

    Did you consider letting Rory know after the fact seeing that Alfie seemed to have no regard to his well being?

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I have infinite patience Melanie, even though they gave me the shits at times. As to Rory and Alfie, I couldn’t betray a client, simple as that. I think Rory was HIV aware.

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  2. Raani York

    Wow Laurie. Some experiences you made there. I’m still fascinated in many ways about all this. Thank you for sharing.

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  3. kelihasablog

    Funny how people disbelieve first…. Trust issues I guess, or some things they just didn’t want to hear or acknowledge. I’d love to be there so I could experience it for myself. 😀

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      It is Keli, there’s fear, apprehension, sitting in a small room with a stranger. Then there’s the thought of someone who’s dead talking to them. It is quite an experience though.🙂

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  4. Patricia Salamone

    Great post Laurie. I’d like to know if you see things only when you read or can you think about someone and know or see something about them. When you see a photo of someone or speak on the telephone can you see any visions or read them. Do you dream about someone and then sometime later you meet them. I find these post helpful and interesting. Keep them coming Laurie. :o)

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Hi Sorella, No, I can see whenever I want, when I think about them etc. Yes to all of your questions. I dream about people, places, events and they happen, although it could be years later. I can meet a person and tell you within a minute or so if they’re okay. I can sit and look at a person and pick up on their medical conditions, feelings etc. When people know what I do they tend to keep away.🙂 Distance has no meaning. It’s a great gift that I tend to underutilise.
      Cheers
      Fratello.

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  5. lauramacky

    Very interesting! I had a woman, a channelee, describe in detail mpthe husband I didn’t have yet. Some years later, I met my husband and my mother reminded me of the reading I had. She was spot on!

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      1. laurie27wsmith Post author

        Lol. Don’t worry I won’t be checking your spelling or grammar anytime soon. It’s so easy to do with small keyboards and predictive text.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Laura. A lot of people forget their readings. I tend to remind people when I see them years on.😉 I remember enough to write the blog at least.

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      1. lauramacky

        I had taped my session but I had lost the tape and forgot about it. Thank goodness I had told my mother in detail what the channeler had said. This woman happened to live near me and was on a national tv show about physics every week so I thought, what the heck. She was spot on!

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  6. hitandrun1964

    We are all just people, people with different taste and outlooks, but we’re all the same. Another series of great stories. So incredibly interesting or maybe fascinating…not the stories but the fact that you can see them. Is the person still in your bedroom???? The dog is beautiful, by the way. Looks like an Australian cattle dog. We have them here. Not a lot but they’re around. 🙂 I believe in guides. I think we all have them. The ones I’m talking about aren’t necessarily Native American, they’re just guides. I’ve been saved by something more than a few times…so that kind of thing is definitely going on. Pretty much everyone has an otherworldly story to tell. Do you block your wife or do you always see what’s around her? I know I’ve said it before but I would love to have a three hour lunch you and chat for a bit. It’s kind of a long trip from Chicago to Australia, just to have lunch, however:) The good news is that I can read about your work through your blog:) Thank you for another excellent post:) Chirps and peeps from the chicklets…oh and a few flapping wings (waves) as well.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      No the person behind the curtain has left, at last.🙂 The dog is indeed an Australian Blue cattle dog. She belongs to the people up the road. I don’t disbelieve in guides it’s just that I found everyone seemed to have a native American and I thought, well how many are there to go around. There is always someone watching over us. Yes pretty much everyone does have these stories to tell but they aren’t telling them. I don’t block my wife at all, I can always tell when someone is around her. I don’t read her unless she asks but I can sure tell when something’s wrong. I’ll go anywhere for lunch, as long as it’s free. -) You can have a sandwich and read the blog, it’ll nearly be the same.
      You’re welcome, I’m jut glad that you like reading them. Give the gang in the coop a big Hi. Cheers,
      Laurie.

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  7. Nia Simone and Ántonia Moran

    Very interesting readings. I always find it odd that people have to test a psychic to see if they are fake or not. My feeling is, is the information helpful? If so, great! If not, okay! You chose to have the experience, so choose to get value out of it. Also, paying someone doesn’t give you the right to be rude to them, IMO.

    That’s very interesting about the black splotches in Alfie’s aura. I had a friend who was psychic who said this other friend of ours had gray in his aura. I asked what it meant. She said it wasn’t good. I knew he was doing much the same thing as Alfie, that dangerous irresponsibility. So it’s interesting to me to know there’s gray or black showing up in an aura of someone who is endangering the lives of others.

    It’s also interesting to hear the police said the man died instantly. It staggers my mind to think what police and first responders face, grim and horrifying accidents, and then they turn around protect the feelings of others. It’s touching.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Thanks Nia. I always thought that if a good friend recommends someone then you should at least be a little trusting. It was like taking the same exam over and over. I think that’s why I saw some explicit, nobody knows type of things that would shut them up, so we could get on with it. There’s an old saying, ‘Like it or lump it’ and it’s relevant here. Instead they would get rude. I think it came from fear. They were usually quite apprehensive on arrival. Then when you told them things not known elsewhere, I guess they felt uncomfortable. The black in Alfie’s aura showed that he was ill and would probably have died within 5 years. The blotches were all working their way through. Grey is usually the early stages of disease where the body’s energy is clotting in the aura. That would’ve been the beginning of other diseases typically found in HIV sufferers. Those blotches were part and parcel of his aura. He showed no concern about Rory’s health, or the others he would have contact with. I’ve noticed a difference in auras, between where a person is ill and where they’re just plain bad. I’ll write about that in a future post.
      Sometimes as a policeman you have to lie to spare the feelings of others. ‘They never felt a thing, or they died instantly’ is preferable to saying, ‘I’m sorry Mrs Jones, your son Bobby died an agonisingly painful death, screaming out for you until he died choking on clotted blood.’ Even those in spirit will say it was quick. Or, I came out of my body a second before impact.

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      1. Nia Simone and Ántonia Moran

        LOL

        Yes, I’d be interested in understanding those aura colors. I can’t see them. I bought a book once on how to read auras and gave up almost immediately.🙂 It’s not what I’m doing this time around, but I find it very interesting.

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      2. laurie27wsmith Post author

        The colours are hard to see at first, you have to trust your inner vision. The aura, when visible to the naked eye is usually fluctuating about an inch or so from the body. Get your subject to stand with their back to a light coloured wall. Then gaze at them with your eyes half slitted, also a little side on. When looking directly at them your brain fails to recognise it, at least until you start to believe what you’re doing. Like photography it takes time.

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  8. davidprosser

    I always like the way you generally call a spade a spade yet you’re not in the least judgemental
    with people. I’m sure that must have served you well in the Army, the Police and being a medium. Despite claiming to have your faults I reckon you’re a thoroughly nice man Laurie.
    Manly Hugs.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      There were times when I called it an *effing shovel* David without judgement, only frustration . I do think that working in jail took any judgemental attitude out of the mix. It’s such an easy place for ordinary people to get themselves into. There’s no greater compliment than being called a nice man, David. I’ll take it on board and send you manly hugs back.
      Cheers
      Laurie.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      So true Olga. It got to the point where I passed on the messages and divorced myself from whatever they did with it. At times I felt like one of those fortune telling Gypsies in a glass case. Put your money in and get a card with your fortune on it……

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      1. suzjones

        I have the main blogs I follow on instant emails so I get them. I still get a bucket load of emails these days but it is much more manageable now that I have separated my ‘must reads’ from my ‘read when I have a few minutes of extra time up my sleeve’ blogs🙂

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