Rick is a burly man whose caring, good-hearted nature drew me in immediately. He appeared at my door cheerful but hesitant. As we sat down for his one-hour reading, he told me that his mother had just died. He was having a hard time dealing with her loss because he was a long haul driver and was on I-80 in Nebraska at the time that she passed.
I said, “Your mother is making my head hurt from both the inside and outside. Does that make sense to you? Like maybe she had an aneurysm and her head hit a table or something when she fell.”
“Yes, she had a stroke while she was in her bathroom, and hit her head on the sink when she fell,” he said.
“Well, she doesn’t want her husband to be blamed; she insists he’s not at fault.”
Rick mentioned that some family members had blamed his father.
“I keep seeing a roulette table.” (I was hoping he wouldn’t take this badly. Sometimes, something comes out in a reading that a client might find offensive—like an affair or compulsive gambling—especially if the subject is his mother.) “Did she want to go to Las Vegas, or had she been there recently?”
He looked stunned. “Yes!”
Rick explained that his mother had just returned from Las Vegas the day she died. She had put down her suitcase, walked into her bedroom-bathroom, suffered a stroke, and died. Rick’s dad was at work at the time and when he returned home it seemed as if no one was home. He opened the door to his bedroom and noticed that the lights were out, but his wife wasn’t in bed. So he went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and decided to watch TV while waiting for her to return. He hadn’t realized that his wife was on the bathroom floor, unable to call out for help.
Because of this, Rick had feelings of turmoil attached to his mother’s passing. His mother was setting the record straight from the other side by relieving her family of the guilt and frustration that burdened them.
“Rick, did your mother have a round table with a bowl of fruit on it?”
“Yes, and now I have it.”
“Your mother still sits there. It’s your daily time together, she says.”
Tears formed in his eyes. Rick’s mom then referred to a woman named Susan; she wanted Rick to know that Susan and she were together. I then asked Rick to call Susan’s mother (if she was open to hearing from the other side) and tell her that her daughter was okay and that she was with his mother.
Rick wasn’t fully aware of how significant this message was at the time but he was happy to hear Susan’s name mentioned. When he left that day, he said he felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
He called me the next day to tell me that he had contacted Susan’s mother, who lives in Florida. He told her about his reading with me and passed on the news that Susan was with his mom and was very happy. She started crying and said she had been thinking about her Susie all week: The next day was the anniversary of her death. She said that she had been talking to Susan because she missed her so much and had hoped that Susan could hear her. Susan definitely answered that question.
Rick’s phone call gave Susan’s mother confirmation that her daughter was still with her. It was no coincidence that Rick’s phone call came the day before the anniversary of Susan’s death.
Rick and his mother are connected in life and in the afterlife. So are Susan and her mother. The mother-child bond can never be broken.
I Believe
I never know quite what to expect at a group session. Sometimes the participants have so much in common that we realize that there is a running group theme. On the flip side, occasionally I will meet a participant who isn’t sure about being there but has committed to at least observing the group. Without fail, the observer is pulled in when a visitor from the other side insists on sending a message.
One story that comes to mind is that of George, a handsome, well-manicured man with silver in his hair. As I shook his hand, George smiled and said, “I have to tell you, I am a skeptic.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “Everyone should approach this experience with open eyes. Don’t force the information to fit.”
He assured me that he would not. It didn’t take long for George’s visitor from the other side to make himself known. I told George that his grandfather was coming through and he asked which one.
“Your grandfather is showing me New York City, so he was either from New York or it was significant to him,” I said.
George thought for a moment and then said, “I don’t think so.”
I repeated my advice about not forcing anything.
“Oh wait, my grandfather came to this country through Ellis Island.”
I described his grandfather and mentioned his grandfather’s fondness for suspenders. The suspenders were significant to George and he was pleased. I gave him more information about his family and elaborated on his grandfather before finishing his reading.
“Everything you said was right on except the part about my grandfather playing checkers; he didn’t play checkers,” he said.
I explained that I give what I get and that maybe it would make sense to him later. Two weeks later I received a call from George’s fiancée, who had accompanied George to the group session. She said that they were out shopping and came upon a store window with a display that included a checkerboard.
She saw George staring at the checkerboard and asked where his mind had wandered. George turned to her and said, “My grandfather use to take me to the park when I was a little boy and he’d give me fifteen cents to get lost so that he could play checkers.”
George was stunned to realize that he had long forgotten this part of his youth. Both the reading and the checkerboard in the store had triggered his memory recall. I have no doubt that George’s grandfather played a part in helping him to put together the pieces. His grandfather succeeded in convincing George that he was, is, and always will be with him. George later sent me a lovely card that said, “I believe.” Thank you, George. It means more than you know.
Happy Endings
Sometimes people like to make my group sessions a family outing. A striking young woman named Barbara showed up with her sister, Jen, and their aunt for a group session. During that session I was distracted by Barbara’s grandfather (who was deceased), who insisted on my conveying images to his girls. I told Barbara and her family that her grandfather was talking about bedtime stories:
“He says he would read you fairy tales and he’s showing me a castle on a hill with a winding road leading up to the castle.”
You could have knocked all three of them over with a feather. Barbara shared that on the way over she had been thinking about her grandpa and how he’d read her bedtime stories when she was little. She had told her aunt, who was in the car with her, that she wanted Grandpa to come through and talk about the bedtime stories that he use to read to her and Jen when they were little. She and her aunt fondly reminisced and agreed that the bedtime stories would convince them that Grandpa was around them.
Barbara’s sister Jen, who had driven her car separately, was the skeptic of the bunch, but her jaw dropped as well. She said that on the way over she had told her grandpa that if he was there with her he should tell Allison about the fairy tales he used to read to her when she was little. She specifically requested “Cinderella.” Jen was thrilled and knew that her grandpa was there for her that day with his book in hand. All three women had the same sweet connection with Grandpa, and they all knew he was listening to them on the way to the group session.
Easter Lily
Like most people, I have a social life. On the weekends, I often find that business and pleasure blend. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and some of my girlfriends and I indulged by eating lunch out for a change. We later stopped by Champions for a cocktail. I only get to do this once in a great while, so I was ready to listen to the jukebox and unwind. My best friend, Stacey, had been chatting with the lady bartender when suddenly she came flying back to our table.
“Allison! This poor girl
, you have to talk to her. She really needs your input.”
I was pretty relaxed, so I said, “Sure, tell her to come over. I’ll talk to her.”
Our bartender approached me. “Hi! I’m Kim. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
I assured her that everything was fine. We briefly talked about a health concern of hers. Then Kim said, “I really wonder about a friend of mine who died. I hope she’s with me.”
With great confidence I said, “Oh, she’s with you. She’s showing me an Easter lily. So she’s making a reference to April. Did she die in April? Was her birthday in April?”
(Here’s an example of how crucial it is for me to illustrate what I am being shown by the other side. This advice is important for people with psychic instincts to remember: Describe everything you’re seeing; it will help you to read your sitter better. The information that we get isn’t always what we think it is. Sometimes the sitter is helpful in the “charades game” with the afterlife. We are only messengers; sometimes we need clarity from the person sitting in front of us.)
“My mother’s name is April,” Kim replied. Her friend hadn’t been referring to the month of April, but rather was giving me the name April. I then turned to Kim and said, “Your friend is now making reference to May by spelling M-A-Y.”
Kim laughed and said, “May is my middle name. I was named after my godmother.” Those were the only names and/or months that I gave her. We talked for another few minutes, and then she went back to work with a new sense of peace.
Meeting of the Minds
On one occasion I had the opportunity to sit down with a fantastic married couple, Carol and Randy, for an informal reading when my husband and I were out to dinner with them. My favorite skeptic, Randy, looked at me and said, “What’s my lucky number?”
I shot back with six.
“She’s right; it’s six! I played a game and won with the lucky number six. It’s been my lucky number ever since.”
We all laughed and they joked about taking me to Las Vegas.
Then Carol asked, “Hey, Allison! When my friend falls in love, what’s the name of the woman he will fall for?”
“Ann.”
Her jaw dropped and she shared that they had just set Randy’s friend up with a coworker of hers. Her name? Anna.
Later I was told that the newly introduced couple in question had a very passionate first date. Good for them! After that, Randy always had a question for me, but he no longer questioned my abilities.
Randy died suddenly in November 2002, the victim of a massive heart attack. I now get to hear from my favorite skeptic from the other side.
Shooting Star
I love to give people signs to look for from the deceased so they will know their loved ones are present. I understand the importance of this because most people cannot see spirits. It’s good personal verification. I did a reading for the widow of a pilot who died in a plane crash. She referred her sister-in-law to me for a reading weeks later. Two very special things happened during that reading. One occurred when Chris, the sister of the deceased pilot, asked me if I could tell her about the question he asked her during their last conversation.
I told her that he asked her if she’d be the godmother of his child.
Chris was very quiet and asked me to repeat what I had just said. I obliged. That was, in fact, her brother’s last question to her. My focus was right on. Working in the University of Arizona Human Energy Systems laboratory has really made me comfortable with answering questions like this. Sometimes in pushing yourself to the limit you can exceed your own expectations.
The second gift to Chris from her brother was his sign. He said she would know that he was around her when she sees a shooting star.
Later I received an e-mail from Chris. She was awestruck. She told me that when I told her the sign was a shooting star she didn’t know what to think. She had never seen a shooting star and she couldn’t imagine when the heck she’d see one.
She went on to describe what had happened over Thanksgiving. Chris was sitting in the living room playing with her niece/goddaughter. The little girl was playing with a magic wand that had a star at the end of it. She looked at her aunt and was preparing to throw it to her.
“Aunt Chris,” she called, “look at the shooting star!”
Chris immediately remembered what her brother had said: “When you see the shooting star, think of me and I’ll be there.”
I found this greatly symbolic because her brother sent the message through his daughter, who is a part of him, a part that Chris can still hold. She knows that her brother was spending that day with his family and that he will always be close by.
Take the time to think about the little things that mean the most to you. What do you really treasure about those that you love? If you ever need to be reminded that there’s life after death, revisit this chapter and know that there is more to life than what we see on the surface.
Chapter 10
Gifted
I am asked all the time what it is like to see dead people. I have decided to address this in my book so that others can understand my life and other psychics’ lives a little better. First of all, let me say that being a psychic-medium is truly a gift. It is part of me and I would not relinquish the ability if I could. I try to have fun with it. I have a T-shirt that I sometimes wear to group sessions: “I see dead people” it reads. My clients appreciate my humor.
On the flip side, being a psychic is no easy life. Like anything else, it has pros and cons. I hate the stereotypes associated with it, and the image many people have of a frizzy-haired, talon-fingered, incense-burning weirdo. Being a medium is both a blessing and a challenge.
Imagine if everything that ever happened in your life was under a microscope. Most people will never know what it feels like to be called the Antichrist or to be judged before you are ever met. And then there is the assumption that people like me should always be ready to help or entertain.
Like those in other professions, we don’t always want to talk shop or be asked for advice when we are out having a good time. We love to go to social engagements and simply be guests like everyone else. I enjoy occasions when I can just blend in and be normal. You want help? Call me on Monday.
As for the calling I have, even when I was young I asked what was so amazing out there that I was being drawn to. I could not define it, but I could see it, feel it, and hear it. I’ve read that other mediums have had similar experiences in childhood. It comforts me to know that there are at least a few others out there who know how I feel.
No Real Role Models
Since my parents were divorced, I saw my dad every Saturday. He would pick me up and take me to a movie and lunch. I enjoyed our time together. I am sure that I saw every movie made from the mid-1970s to the late 1980s. I was always curious about ghosts and loved movies about the other side.
Unfortunately, I could not relate to the psychics that in most movies. They seemed too odd or New Age (no offense to New Agers; I just couldn’t relate). I didn’t see anyone who seemed like me. Were there lots of young people with the gift, or was it like a driver’s license, so that you had to be a certain age to get it? I needed more information about the other side.
It was seldom that I saw a movie about kids with the gift. There was an occasional film involving kids who could see a spirit, but they were never defined as gifted. They were in an isolated situation, and after the wronged spirit received closure, it was implied that the sightings ceased. With that kind of portrayal, seeing ghosts seemed more like a fluke than a gift.
When I was a child my favorite spirit flick was a Disney Sunday Night Movie about a glass doll in an attic and a little girl’s spirit that needed closure. The premise was that living children were trying to find out what had happened to a little girl who had died many years before. They were trying to bring her closure through their communication with her and to uncover the circumstances surrounding her death. The children could both see and hea
r the little girl on the other side, and to me this made sense.
The best part of the movie was that the kids who could see the girl’s spirit were normal kids, not portrayed as nuts or weirdos. The movie was haunting, and it made me excited about interacting with the other side. I loved it. And I was continually being introduced to scenarios that would one day be commonplace for me. My spirit was being fueled to connect with the other side.
I also found myself drawn to study the criminal mind throughout my childhood. Although I didn’t realize what I was doing until I was an adult, I watched anything and everything on TV that covered actual homicides. My mind would receive information that filled in gaps surrounding murders, such as pictures of the perpetrator, weapons, names, places, and motives. Later in life, I would learn that I have a knack for profiling criminals. My specialty is tapping into the human mind for this purpose. More specifically, I can determine what a particular person’s motive is, his emotion or lack of emotion, and the result of his impulses.
My Gift
The idea of the unknown is an easy target for people who would rather believe that when we die we become worm food. Believing this relieves you of any spiritual or personal reflection, which can be painful. Also, people with this mind-set tend to not be very worried about the ramifications of the way they treat others, and they’re comfortable with this. I was on a show once and I had a well-known moron (who shall remain nameless) say to me, “Well, I believe that there are spirits, but I sure as hell can’t hear them or talk to them!”
My response was “Well, duh! That’s because you’re not a medium.”
Is that such a hard concept for people to grasp? If we could all hear and see spirits, we’d all be mediums. To me it’s no different from being born with some other significant gift. No matter how many singing lessons I have I will never sound like Celine Dion; not even close. No matter how hard I study I will never have the mind of Albert Einstein. No matter how hard some people try, they will never see or talk to spirits. That’s okay; that’s what makes the world so interesting.
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