A Medium, or just well done? There’s no hiding from them and If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.

 There’s no hiding from them. ‘That’s my daughter over there you know. She’s a lovely girl.’ The American accented voice faded and I saw something resembling an old shed, with hens scratching around in the dust. The scene vanished as the long line in the bank moved slowly forward. ‘You have to tell her I’m okay. She wasn’t there when I passed over.’ Another few steps forward and I could see a tall, slender woman with long blonde hair standing behind the glass partition. This was in the days before key card accounts, if you wanted your money you had to stand in line. Of course with nothing better to do, my mind wandered and the woman in spirit ambushed me. The voice became a touch strident and demanding and I said, ‘Look, I don’t walk up to people and say your dead Mum’s here you know.’ The hens became clearer, ‘What’s with the chickens?’ – ‘You’ll see, now please tell her, she’ll understand.’ My turn came and I leant on the counter, looked from the teller’s, very pleasant, smiling face to her nametag, Mary Chicken. The penny dropped, hens, chicken pens. I looked around at the three other lines and the people behind me, shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘Look, I don’t usually do this but while I was waiting a woman who said she’s your mother wanted me to tell you something.’ Her face brightened up and she said, ‘Well go on, what did she say?’ – ‘Well, that she’s okay and you weren’t there when she passed over.’ She struggled a little as she counted out my money, then pushed a pen and paper over to me, ”Give me your phone number, I’d love to see you and talk to my Mom.’ Maree came for her reading and to be honest I can’t recall what came through, only that I saw an awful lot of bank tellers over the following weeks.
I must have been a bad lad, because it’s said there’s no rest for the wicked. There’s no sense of time in the spirit world, Yes they know when to turn up but it’s before hand when there’s something important to say and they can’t wait. For example, in the shower. Shampooing away, yes I had enough hair to wash, and then a voice pops up, ‘She has to get her car checked. The front left brake is dodgy, you have to tell her.’ – ‘Tell who?’ – ‘My daughter Ally. She’s driving that heap of shit her boyfriend calls a car.’ I’m shown a green Holden sedan and say, ‘So how am I supposed to tell her? If you haven’t noticed I’m having a shower. Besides I don’t have an Ally in my book?’ – ‘You will.’ He disappears and an hour later the phone rings, ‘Hi, my name’s Ally and I’d like to make an appointment.’ – ‘Well don’t drive the Holden.’ – ‘Who said that?’ – ‘Your Dad I believe.’ At least she didn’t whinge when she turned up.
Fast asleep in bed and a hand rests on my foot. I move it and two Chihuahuas and a grey cat whinge and snort as I disturb them. Hmm, it’s not them. ‘Can you help me?’ For a moment I forget that I’m a psychic and let out a girly squee. A faintly luminous form shimmers at the end of the bed, ‘I’m lost, can you help me?’ – ‘Can you hang on, I need to pee?’ I didn’t before but I do now. I returned to bed and climbed under the covers, ‘Okay, what’s happened?’ A vivid image forms in my mind, I recognise London. There’s a red double decker bus, a 1950’s vintage, a crunch and my nocturnal visitor is sprawled dead on a wet street, ‘It’s been awhile, why are you here now?’ More imagery and a woman briefly appears then fades away, ‘I’m really lost, I saw your light and came here.’ Sitting up quietly not wanting to wake the wife, I sat on the edge of the bed. A brighter light begins to form up in the corner of the ceiling, it grows bigger as I watch. She’s still facing me, ‘Turn around and head for the light that’s in the corner.’ She turns and begins to fade away. I close my eyes and watch as the light brightens, there are others there, waiting. She vanishes, I felt a rush of warmth and love and the light is gone in an instant.

If you don’t want to know, don’t ask. This one works until you get THE question, ‘Does my bum look big in these jeans?’ I leave that one to the likes of Socrates and Plato to answer. I had to work with such questions as, ‘Is my husband cheating?’ A quick delve into the cards, then focus on hubby. A vision of him appears, giving some healthy chested lass a good seeing to in the back of his van. The client is a slender woman, ‘Err, well yes he his actually.’ She sits quietly fuming for a moment then gets stuck into me, “Why did you tell me that. My husband wouldn’t cheat on me. You’re lying, blah, blah, blah.’ Or this one. A woman of Middle Eastern appearance came for a reading. She’d been referred by Carly’s Mum and seemed quite eager to hear what I had to say. I’ll call her Sarah. We went through the usual routine and I said, ‘I can do a general reading or you can ask pertinent questions, it’s up to you.’ – ‘I want to know about my son, he’s five.’ I always felt uncomfortable looking into the lives of small children. If I saw something dubious or dangerous the parent often became upset and abusive.’ – I want to know.’ – ‘Look, I can go ahead about seven years. After that there are too many variables, free will comes into play.’ – ‘I don’t care, I want to know.’ I spent the reading going through the minutiae of her lad’s life. This took place in 1995 and I reached his 25th birthday in 2020.
A shimmering heatwave flowed upwards from the desert sand in the deep valley. A stripped down, brown Land Rover rattled along the flint strewn road that wound down from the mountains. Two men sat in the front and one, Sarah’s son stood in the back hanging onto a swivel mounted .50 calibre Browning machine gun. A feeling of great conflict came to me, the valley clouded over and the shimmer turned black. Nothing. I felt quite sick, the thought of another war in the Middle East depressed me. Gathering my thoughts I told her what I saw, emphasising that I didn’t see anything happening to him, that 20 years was a long time. She stood up and screamed, ‘How dare you tell me my son is going to die, he’s my son and you tell me this. What are you, why do you do this?’ I couldn’t reason with her. The thought that he might die became too much for her. She refused to pay and stormed out. I didn’t tell her that he wasn’t fighting for Australia. If you don’t want to know, please don’t ask.

The unexpected death. Michael came to see me the day after he flew down from Cairns, in North Queensland. He’d been referred by a satisfied customer, not that it ever seemed to make much difference, and seemed eager to get started. Sitting back in his chair he soaked up everything I had to say. There wasn’t anything outstanding about his reading, all seemed well in his life and near future. I sat back and a man appeared next to him. A large, robust, round faced happy man. ‘I’m really dead you know.’ – ‘I think you are. So, I take it Michael is your grandson?’ – ‘Yes, he saw me a couple of days ago in Cairns.’ Sitting up straight I said to Michael, ‘I have a large man in spirit for you, he says he’s your grandad.’ – ‘What? Bullshit I saw him the other day. No Mate you’re wrong, he’s alive.’ Grandad gave me some information only Michael would know and I passed it on. ‘Nope you’re reading my mind.’ – ‘Go out to the kitchen and ring home, they’ll tell you.’ He returned five minutes later, ‘Shit, he’s dead. They found him a couple of hours ago. Mum just found out.’ I gave myself a mental high five.

IMG_0199The Missing Professor.  I’d never done a reading for a university professor before, didn’t really expect to neither. He rang me after being recommended by Rory, the first thing he assured me of was, ‘I’m not gay.’ It didn’t matter to me. The man was a pleasure to read for. he listened, wrote notes and asked pertinent questions. His main one being, ‘Will my book be published?’ After some in depth looking around in his aura it came to me that writing was one of his main reasons for being. I gave him some information on his upcoming holidays overseas and voiced my concern about his health, especially his stress levels, ‘I’m fine, fit as a bull.’ Well he certainly looked it but there seemed to be something amiss with his mental state, ‘It’s only stress,’ he assured me, ‘I told you, I’m fit.’
A few weeks later he popped back with a copy of his book for me and he brought a new client. I looked at him and said, ‘You’re the bloke on that TV current affairs show.’ He nodded and sat down, looking a little uncomfortable he said, ‘You won’t tell anyone else I’m here, will you?’ – “No Steve, you’re fine here.’ He wasn’t hard to miss, with his chiselled good looks, tanned skin and thick black hair. The professor left us to it and waited in the lounge. I dealt the cards and away we went. What a happy, well balanced individual. After reading his family I went straight into his career. I began getting quite lucid visions of events to come around the Brisbane area, At first they appeared to be about him, then I realised I was seeing news stories to come. He took copious notes in shorthand and I managed to read him for the following 10 years. We had afternoon tea, a good talk about world affairs and away they went.
A few months later Steve rang and made another appointment, ‘Look Laurie, it’s about the Professor. He’s still overseas and nobody has heard from him since he left.’ I had that afternoon free and Steve turned up right on time. No cuppa this time, straight down to the room. We settled in and I sat back and began taking deep breaths, slowed them down and went into a meditative state. Keeping an image of the Professor in my mind’s eye I began.
Voices echoed down long corridors. Cold, harshly lit corridors that seemed to stretch forever. I wandered along looking from side to side. Heavy wooden doors with thick glass windows in them appeared and faded away. The voices were high pitched, vibrant with terror and frustration. My arms were folded in front of me, they felt restricted and I pulled to get them in front of me. Nothing. A room materialised around me, three large men stood around the Professor. My bonds fell away and I could see him strapped into a straight jacket. Head back, mouth wide open he screamed long and loud. Spittle hung from his scraggly beard and the muscles in his neck strained, ready to split. He looked in my direction and his eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets. I opened my eyes and slowly rubbed my face, Steve sat forward and asked, ‘Well, did you find him?’ – ‘I think so, he’s still overseas and alive.’ Steve sat back and hung his head for a moment, ‘So where is he?’ – ‘Hang on.’ Closing my eyes I returned to the corridor, thankfully the screaming had stopped. Letting the mind roam I picked up a tune, it was an ABBA song, Dancing Queen. ‘He’s in Sweden.’
I heard from Steve the following week. They’d found the Prof, alive and not so well in a Swedish mental hospital. He’d suffered a total mental breakdown, apparently he’d been plagued by nervous breakdowns from when he was a young university student. The professor never fully recovered and I lost track of Steve after he switched to another TV channel.

Next week: Let’s take a look at healing.

32 thoughts on “A Medium, or just well done? There’s no hiding from them and If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.

  1. Raani York

    Laurie, You know… it shouldn’t surprise me how good you are as a psychic. Still it mentally shakes me sometimes how precise you are in what you see. I could imagine it is pretty wild dealing with parents who don’t want to hear the truth about their children and women who don’t want the truth about their husbands. *sigh*
    The part about the professor is tough too.😦
    I do admire you!! (Uhm…. not necessarily about the ones meeting you in the shower…)

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Well I always put my all into everything I take up. Psychic readings and healing were no exception. Believe it or not I have a few skills in communicating with all kinds of people on an everyday level. I’ve talked myself out of trouble on several occasions over the years.🙂 I felt sorry for the prof as well. Yes it can be disturbing having them turn up in the shower. I looked at it this way, if I wanted to get an urgent message to a loved one I’d do whatever it took to get through.
      Cheers
      Laurie

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  2. thisisnotbangkok

    Absolutely fascinating posts. I can read these stories all night. Have you ever thought of making a book about your readings or are you just posting them here? In any event, really looking forward to your next week’s ‘healing’ post. I have a good friend who is currently using a healer to help his father with various medical issues and she has supposedly helped him. The last time I saw him he looked like a new person. So I am eager to hear your views on the subject.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Yes Michael, my thoughts are along the lines of putting them into a book, weave a little bit of me through it etc. healing is something I’ve never given up, even though I don’t do it as often as I should it still works well. There’ll be plenty of stories to come on the subject.

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  3. Patricia Salamone

    You are amazing Fratello. Although I do worry that all this takes a toll on you. I now wonder if you know what I am going through right now. It’s been a rough year so far. As you know I lost my sister Arlene, my brother-in-law and now my cousin Gerry. I know this sounds silly but these deaths hit home for me. Usually I can move on within a reasonable amount of time. I feel in turmoil for some reason, so if you get any info for me please let me know, I will accept it gratefully, :o)

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      It’s all in the past Sorella, I stopped doing readings as a business 13 years ago. I can understand what you’re going through. The turmoil you’re feeling is that of your own mortality, close family members pass and it makes us think about what’s in store for us. I feel that you are really angry with life, not ranting or raving, just upset that you can’t find answers to the questions you have. For some reason I see an old, two story clapboard house. It’s near the sea, looks like a summer rental place. A girl in a yellowish swimsuit and wearing a rubber ring. A well built man is there in red trunks and he has his hands full of food, wrapped in greaseproof paper. He has a big smile and, thick black hair. What does it mean? I have no idea, it just came to me as I sat here.
      Cheers
      Fratello.

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      1. Patricia Salamone

        How interesting Fratello, I will keep that in mind and let you know if it comes to pass. You are probably right about the mortality thing I will be 71 at the end of this month. Oh well, I better snap out of this slump soon I have too many things I want to accomplish to be thinking about my mortality. We are in the middle of getting ready to move south to a condo nearer to my daughter. She will give birth on July 3rd. and I am looking forward to being closer to my grand children.
        You’ve got me laughing Laurie because now I’ll looking for the well built man with red trunks his big smile, thick black hair and of course the food. I hope it’s something delicious. :o)

        How are your Roo’s? I look forward to visiting your veranda to unwind. Have a great day :o)….

        Sorella

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  4. olganm

    You’re right, people should not ask if they’re not prepared to hear something they might not like. But it might be that lots of people go to visit mediums convinced (or expecting) to only hear nice things or what they’d like to happen. As they say ‘no good deed goes unpunished’. Sad to hear some of the negative experiences, but thankfully for you there are some good ones too..

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      That is so true Olga. I believe people now only want psychics who give them good news. Good news is fine but hey, you can get smoke blown up your bum by facebook friends, it would be cheaper. Actually it’s the negative experiences that stick in the forefront of my mind,😦 There are plenty of good ending stories locked away though, they pop up now and then.

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  5. Jane Dougherty

    You never cease to amaze me Laurie. Who knew so much was happening in the ether that most of us never notice. You must be exceptionally level-headed not to have gone completely barmy

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  6. hitandrun1964

    I had to track you down, you didn’t show up on my Reader again. Great information. I can’t understand why people come to you for readings when they only want to hear what they want to hear. They shouldn’t ask. And they misunderstand, as well, and hear what they think you’re saying, rather than what you are actually saying. We translate through our own experience and world view, I guess. It’s so wonderful that you helped that women go home. Love that. Not nice to be lost. Why didn’t someone come and get her? Do your animal friends react to the images you see, the energy? So fascinating. Is my husband cheating and why would you tell me that????????? She just wanted you to say, “no.” Another day in the life of a psychic:)

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I don’t think you’re the only one Gigi, I’ve had few responses today. I’ll never understand some people, I mean why ask a question about something you don’t want to hear? Listening is 80% of communication and most times what I was saying definitely wasn’t what they were hearing.😦 I had quite a few lost people come through. Now the interesting thing is a lot of spirits don’t believe they’re dead. They’ll be approached by someone who will want to take them home and they will be afraid, or doubtful and disbelieving. So they ignore them, then after a while they may come to a conclusion that something is definitely wrong. With animals, my belief is they are aware of our auras and when for instance, dogs attack it’s usually because the person is frightened. The aura then gives off dark colours. That woman knew already she just wanted someone to lie and tell her she was wrong. yes Gigi, just another day.🙂

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  7. davidprosser

    You never fail to entertain/inform Laurie. I know you’re an easy going fella but I still don’t know how you put up with some of the antics you’ve described. I’d be tempted to offer a swift kick to the rump and help them out.
    Is this all in the past or do you still do readings now? I’d hate to think of your blood presssure going up so much now.
    Keep well my friend

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      I used to bang my head against the wall a lot David.🙂 Thankfully the good far outweighed the bad. The events I write about happened between 1990 and 2001. I do one once in a blue moon, although the hauntings don’t stop. We still have our share of ‘visitors.’ Thanks so much for dropping in David. I’ll talk again soon. I’m doing my best to keep well.
      Cheers
      Laurie.

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