My friend had just lost her mom, and she was interested in trying to contact her on the other side. A psychic medium was recommended to her, and she wanted to go, but before she plunked down $75 for 30 minutes of communication with her mother, who by the way she couldn’t stand to be around when the old lady was living, she asked me to give this guy a trial run.
I don’t know what it is with my friends, but they always come to me when they need a crash dummy for whatever new adventure or health remedy they are considering. They have asked me to don my investigative journalist hat so often that now anytime anything crazy comes up for them to try, they automatically assume I will be their guinea pig. Usually, I am up for almost anything, but I am getting a little ticked that no one offers to pay for these sometimes costly experiments. Allow me to give you an idea of what I have “looked into” for them in the past: a body piercing artist who as it turned out tried to convince me that women need their nipples pierced for sexual health (I investigated the methods but backed out before the actual disrobing and piercing took place), the hypnotherapist who instilled in me an addiction for chocolate which I think should be a criminal offense, and my personal favorite–the massage therapist who used very weird tools and chants to relax my body and who left such an impression upon me that to this day I get nervous when I see someone using a rolling pin.
So, there was my friend begging me to see her medium Anthony. I said, “Sure, there are a few people I wouldn’t mind talking to again, but as long as they are nice. What I don’t want are dead people with bad attitudes. My friend assured me that the medium told her that he could make sure no bad spirits came through. I felt a bit more at ease, so I made an appointment.
The guy‘s office was in a regular commercial office building. I was a bit disappointed; my dentist’s office was more new agey than this place. I think for the type of business he was doing, he could have hung a few wind chimes or lit some candles around the room. Anthony was punctual, and he seemed relatively normal. As it turns out, in his pre-professional medium days, he was a bona fide rocket scientist but got laid off or thrown out or put on a watch list or something. I didn’t ask for many details. After he ushered me into the inner office which still lacked any type of ghostly appeal, he took my hands and looked into my eyes and gasped. At first, I thought I had spinach from the quiche I ate for lunch in my teeth, but that wasn’t it.
“Oh my God, your vibrations are so high. How many spirits do you see on a daily basis?”
I didn’t know how to respond so I was honest,
“Just one and his name is Jack Daniels and he usually visits right around bedtime.”
“No, no real spirits; they are swimming around you.”
“Crap,” I said matter-of-factly. “Really? Swimming around me? So they are there all the time? Should I have bathroom shyness now?”
“Noo,” he said in a comforting voice, “But they want to communicate with you, but they say you don’t allow them to.”
I sat down and he gazed behind me and seemed to be talking to someone. I was going to look, but I thought it best to just let him do his thing. Out of the blue, he yelled out my grandmother’s name, the Italian version. I admit I got freaked out. Most people don’t peg me as Italian because of my blonde hair and blue eyes and my Irish married name. Then, he went on to tell me about several people who had died in my family and circle of friends. Even skeptical me was a bit frightened as he got some names right.
Suddenly, he stopped his gazing and looked at me in a truly weird way and said, “What can we do to get you to talk to those who have passed?”
My only suggestion to him was to get me some good drugs because without drugs, there would be no chit chat with the dead on my part. Apparently, several people on the other side did not like my flippant attitude and told him so. I started to get a little annoyed because I think if one is dead, they shouldn’t be allowed to be so bossy. Anthony said they didn’t mean to be bossy; they were disappointed in me.
So, even in death, my family can guilt. Great. I cut the session short because I was a bit freaked out, and I had to drive alone and it was dark and I was afraid that someone was going to pop up in my backseat just to say hello. The entire way home, I left my windows down and sang loudly hoping both the wind and my non-melodic tones would scare all spirits away. Have I had any ghostly encounters since that day? I don’t think so, but then again, I’ve made it a point not to look.