“I’ll have my assistant email you the details of the venue. I must admit I’m rather intrigued by your story. It’s unusual for one person to be affected by the sensitivity of another, when they exhibited no such traits beforehand. I doubt there’s any danger, only lower entities cause mischief and they don’t have enough power to do anything really menacing, despite popular theory. It’s more down to the mind blowing a small thing out of proportion: people have a tendency to fear the unknown, even when there isn’t really anything to fear at all.”
“Well, I’ll be interested to meet up with you and thanks for your time. I really appreciate it.”
“I thrive on the unusual, so for me something that doesn’t quite fit is a way of expanding my understanding. Gifts of insight are given for a reason. We’re either here to learn or to help. It’s been my pleasure. Before you go, can I ask you to begin making notes whenever you have a dream that you can remember afterwards. It might explain a few things.”
***
I stare up at the ceiling, thinking of Ceri. My body relaxes into the bed, the tension beginning to ease. I wonder if she can feel my thoughts. What did Ethan say? We’re either here to learn or to help. Am I here to help Ceri, or is Ceri here to teach me something? Is my path crossing hers or is it the other way around? I said that nothing strange had ever happened to me before I met Ceri, just over two years ago. Is that true? I let my mind wander. I have no recall whatsoever of having a bad dream prior to that time, of course that doesn’t mean to say I hadn’t had any, only that it wasn’t a concern. Why is it that I can remember these dreams so clearly and they keep repeating the same message – protect Ceri but don’t get too close? Watch her from a distance, but always stand back.
I pick up another of Ethan Morris’s books from the bedside table. The title is Worlds That Collide and it’s fascinating. He believes that there are multiple planes of existence and they all inter-relate. When we are here on the earthly plane, in our sleep we leave our bodies and go back to the ethereal plane to continue the work we do there. It isn’t easy reading, but I’m halfway through the book now and trying to get my head around his ideas. I’m beginning to see what he’s asking the reader to do, and that’s to stop thinking about life here on earth as being the sole purpose of our existence. Instead he’s suggesting we think of it merely as a place we come to learn lessons. We then return to the ethereal planes, where our energy will be advanced by our experiences in this life. Some ‘energies’ come back more than once. Well, I think that’s what he’s saying. It’s not easy to take in, that’s for sure.
Chapter Twelve – Life Without Her
I’ve found myself another job. Fortunately not everyone gets on with the influential Mason Portingale and once the news was out that I was looking, well, wheels within wheels. Grey’s Advertising is small and I guess in many ways we are a perfect fit. I’m flexible and live for my work – well, that goes without saying. What else do I have in my life? No Ceri, that’s a fact. She hasn’t been in touch and it’s been over a month.
Ironically my dreams have virtually stopped. That might be because I’m hardly sleeping; I spend hours thinking about her and wondering what happens next. Sleep usually comes around four am and then it’s only a few hours until the alarm clock wakes me for another day. Without the new job I have no idea what I would do. I know I can’t sit around moping all the time, but that’s my life pretty much outside of work now. I’m arriving early and staying late. At least the new boss is happy, although he must wonder why I don’t want to go home at the end of the day like everyone else.
I had an email from Sheena and she made it clear Ceri didn’t know she was getting in touch. It was brief. She told me that I’d broken Ceri’s heart and that I was a rat. ‘Stay away,’ she said, and that was it. The thing is, when you are confronted with the truth about a situation, what can you say? There’s no point in trying to deny what happened and there is no justification. The best thing I can do now for Ceri is to bow out of her life and hope that she finds someone who deserves to be with her and can keep her safe. She’s bright, beautiful and a catch; she has no idea how truly amazing she is and that’s because she hides herself away. At work she is outgoing, but the moment she lets down her armour, she’s running scared. The other side of her life bewilders her and she’s constantly seeking answers; that’s the bit that other people don’t understand, and there are moments when I’ve been with her where I too felt freaked out by something she told me.
I’ve decided I’ll still meet up with Ethan next week. I’m going to take a day off work and visit a couple of interesting psychic bookstores while I’m there. I don’t know if spending time with Ceri has awakened something in me. Ethan’s idea that I write up all of the dreams I could still remember with some sort of clarity, has been useful. It has certainly made me wonder whether there’s a message in there for me. What if meeting Ceri wasn’t a coincidence? What if it was fate? I also told her a lie. At the time I felt I had no choice, but I’m not a guy to give in to fear. It doesn’t sit well with me and my knee-jerk reaction ended up in my lashing out at her. I don’t know how to undo the damage, because at the time I thought I was protecting her. Whether the warning was for real and the consequences could put her life in danger – I don’t know, but that’s not a risk I’m prepared to take.
Ceri
Chapter Thirteen – Going to Pieces
It hurts. I have no heart, only little fragments floating around randomly inside me. How ironic that Seb and I seem to be mirror images, only the circumstances are different. When something shatters your life into pieces, you feel your reason for being no longer exists. Why am I here? What purpose does my life serve if I can’t make anyone happy? Alex is no longer in my life and nothing else is working. I haven’t had one single episode and it seems even the angels have deserted me. I failed them and I’m no longer useful. Was I so wrapped up in loving Alex that I missed a sign and failed to be the instrument of change? Did I miss the cue to put something right before it had a chance to go wrong?
Ironically I can see things more clearly now and maybe that’s because my life is uncluttered. No Alex, no angels and no purpose. There are two sides to that coin. No job, no reason to get out of bed in the morning and no point to my existence. I count for nothing and the universe has recognised that. It no longer requires my input.
Long walks along the beach on the northern coast of France have kept me sane; kept me from doing something silly. I awaken each morning with a sense of dread at having to pretend to Sheena that I’m making plans to put my life back together again. The reality is very different. I don’t know who I am anymore. My psychic side was a part of my identity. I can understand that with hindsight and, in a strange way, after meeting Alex things had begun to fall into place. I was coping with my incidents much better, my reactions were quicker and I was handling things in a seamless way. I was at last beginning to feel comfortable with the side of my life that I’d often regarded as a burden. People around me were hardly noticing my actions to alter the course of events.
A part of this clarity is down to a little old French lady named Voleta. I was curious whether it had a meaning: it wasn’t a name I’d ever heard before and I discovered it means ‘veiled’. I thought that was rather strange. She was certainly able to open my eyes to a few things.
It was the day Sheena and I left Paris and headed for the northern coast. We drove to a wonderful sea view hotel in a little place called Le Crotoy. It was an old manor house, sitting within a meandering garden that was surrounded by a beautiful old stone wall. All of the bedrooms on the first and second floors looked out over the sea, and our rooms had balconies. Sheena left me to wander around the shops while she went back to the hotel to make a phone call. It was a particularly charming part of Picardie, and the inhabitants are known as Crotellois.
There was a little shop tucked away in a side street and I found myself there only because I took a wrong turn, thinking it was a short cut back to the ho
tel. It was very small and outside there was a rack of tie-dyed t-shirts and skirts, plus a few baskets containing second-hand French books. The window was mostly taken up with incense sticks, candles, and crystals. That’s what attracted me inside.
“Good day,” the old woman behind the counter said, like she had been waiting for me to step inside. She spoke very good English, but with a thick French accent. I must have looked a little surprised, because she laughed.
“I married an Engleeshman,” she offered. “It’s the skin. So white.”
I smiled and began browsing, but there wasn’t really anything I wanted to buy. I was about to turn and thank her before leaving, when she began speaking to me again.
“J’ai lu les cartes de tarot.” She spoke quickly and I only picked up the word ‘tarot’. “Would you like I read for you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t particularly interested but I felt I was a captive audience of one.
“Merci Madame, je m’appelle Ceri.”
“Voleta,” she said, nodding her head to acknowledge the greeting. She came forward, changed the sign on the door to ‘Fermé’ and indicated that I should follow her.
The room behind the shop was cool and a little dismal. Heavy brocade curtains, an old sofa, and a few chairs gathered around a small, antique table. It must have been expensive when it was first purchased, because the legs were heavily carved. It was clean and tidy, but it felt like a place where time stood still. This was a way of living where the modern world was irrelevant. I couldn’t see a TV or a radio and everything was useful, only small touches added that sense of homeliness.
“Alors mademoiselle, I think this will be interesting, non?” Her French seemed to mingle easily with her English and I felt slightly embarrassed that my own French was so poor. I can understand more than I can actually speak. She indicated for me to sit down at the table and took the seat opposite me. There was an old tin on the table, which Madame Voleta opened and carefully lifted from it a stack of yellowing cards. I watched her shuffle them and divide the cards into seven smaller piles on the table. She gestured for me to choose one, then gathered up the piles either side and gently placed them back inside the tin.
Her hands hovered over the table for a few moments in a meaningful way; her eyes were closed. Then she began laying out the cards in a line. They were beautiful cards, worn with time and unlike any tarot cards I had ever seen. The pictures were grand and ornate, faded so the colours were no longer crisp, but reminiscent of courtiers and palaces. Versailles sprang to mind, looking at the magnificent garden settings on some of the cards.
Madame appeared to be talking to herself and the only thing I caught was “Ahh, l’amour véritable!” Then she said, “mais pas.” She searched my face, looking for something.
“Your man ‘az a big ‘art but now your ‘art eez broken. Eez no fault. Eez fate. You must ‘ave faith that life will change.” She scooped the cards up, shuffled them and laid them out in a pyramid. She nodded. “Ah.”
“Madame?” I enquired, anxious to know what she could see.
“You worry, but eet make no difference. What will be, will be. You save people you not know and that eez your gift.” She muttered a few words then saw that I was struggling to translate. “You ‘ave the gift to put somezing good.” Her eyes shone with kindness and understanding. I felt comforted. “Lucky.” She smiled.
“I don’t feel lucky,” I murmured and she frowned.
“C’est difficile, non?” she agreed, nodding her head. “Mais, what a life you ‘ave. You make a difference, vous avez été choisis.” I think that means that I have been chosen and she nods, as if reading my mind.
“Will I be alone?” I asked, and her face dropped a little.
“For a while, mais pas pour toujours.” She reached across and placed her hand over mine. It was cold, despite the fact that outside it was a very warm day.
She surveyed the cards, “No worry,” she explained, “spéciale, très spéciale. You cannot fight your destiny. Je suis honoré.”
Why would she say ‘I’m honoured?’
I picked up my bag to offer her some money, but she immediately said “non” and grasped hold of my hand. “Choisi,” she repeated in her warm French accent.
“Merci Madame,” I nodded my head and she smiled.
Walking out into the sunlight, my eyes took a few moments to adjust. Why are there never any answers, only little clues that often seem meaningless? But it made me realise that I’ve always felt different and maybe what I should have been feeling is ‘special.’
Madame Voleta was right: I probably have changed people’s lives for the better, but that doesn’t help when you have a broken heart. If I had to choose between having this gift and having Alex in my life, I’d choose Alex without a moment’s hesitation.
Chapter Fourteen – Realisation
I didn’t mention Madame Voleta or the tarot reading to Sheena. I don’t think she would approve and I don’t want her to think I’m wallowing. Sheena is doing what she does best, trying to encourage me to leave my troubles behind and get on with it. At dinner last night she was firing ideas at me, things I could do now that I’m suddenly free as a bird. Well, Sheena calls it ‘free as a bird’ while I call it heart-broken and unemployed.
I know she has a point. Whatever I do next is important and maybe I’m at a crossroads. There doesn’t appear to be anything or anyone around me to influence any decision I make. I have no constraints and no responsibilities. I could sell my apartment and settled down somewhere else. I could try living abroad even. I have some money saved and my needs are modest. However, too much freedom, too many choices, and nothing to really inspire me makes me feel that I have been set adrift. There’s nothing comforting about it. Rather, it makes me feel sad and I’m often conscious of being alone, even when I’m surrounded by other people. Sheena is a great friend but she has a busy life; my parents and I don’t understand each other and Seb was always the easy one, so their bond is strong. Being different has been a curse on so many different levels and people end up distancing themselves from you if they sense your feelings of isolation. I think Sheena has stuck by me because she knew me before things became so heavy, so she knows I have a perfectly normal side too. Alex, I realise, was the only one who hung around, didn’t ask questions and accepted the ‘me’ I put out there. Even though he sensed my life was in two halves and I chose to show him only the side of me that was straightforward – that is, until we decided to share our secrets.
“You’ve gone off into your own little world again.” Sheena waves a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, I’m getting better though, aren’t I?”
Sheena peers at me, her brow furrowed.
“Maybe. I was a bit worried at first that you wouldn’t return from one of your long beach walks, but you’re stronger than you think.”
I laugh, then realise that she’s serious.
“I feel lost,” I admit. “I’m not used to being in a relationship… well, it was hardly a relationship. But you know what I mean. I felt a connection with Alex and I fell in love with him, maybe even the first time I saw him. That’s why it was easy to be around him, and I didn’t want to show him the secret side of my life because I knew it would change things. Perhaps he really wasn’t different at all, only patient. He said I was gorgeous and I was disappointed in him, that he was yet another person who could only see the shell. It’s what’s inside that counts and what I had was special.”
“Had?” Sheena’s face registers surprise.
“Well, it’s been a while. Nothing at all has happened since I’ve been in France.”
Sheena shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “What?” Her face colours slightly.
“Well, I’ve seen at least three episodes. Maybe they are more discreet now, or maybe it’s becoming such a part of you that it doesn’t register.”
We sit in silence. Can that be true? Instead of feeling shocked, I feel an overwhelming sense of r
elief. The cosmos hasn’t set me free: it needs me to fulfil the destiny it has determined for me. Thank you! I will never, ever complain about my gift again.
***
We head for home and the black cloud that has been hanging over me has finally lifted. Having time to walk along the beach and think has done me the power of good. My life works best when I keep the psychic side of me separate from the normal side. So all I have to do is make sure I never bring the two together. I’m going to look for a day job that will keep me in the real world and keep my private life out of it.
I’ve also found myself a mentor of sorts, someone who has offered to help develop and channel whatever gift I have been given. His name is Mark Kessler and he’s a celebrated local, being an acclaimed psychic medium and motivational speaker. He travels all over the UK and his events are always sold out. I’ve followed his blog for a while and read some of his books. I went to one of his talks and bought a few things afterwards from a display in the foyer. He came up and started casually chatting to the little group of people queuing to pay. I asked him a question about the programme he runs, which teaches people how to meditate and one thing led to another. We ended up going for a cup of coffee. I told him pretty much everything that worries me and he made me feel that there are things I can do to help myself. I decided to sign up for the meditation sessions and he also offered me a place on a Gayatri mantra workshop he was arranging. I thanked him, gave him my email address and went away thinking ‘What on earth?’
I’ve never heard the term before and had no idea what it was, but when I Googled it millions of pages came up. Apparently it’s one of the oldest and most powerful of the Sanskrit mantras. It is believed that by chanting the mantra and connecting with it, it will help you carry out the work that fate has determined for you. Your life will be full of happiness as you fulfil your true destiny. The way everything was happening, I wondered if this was a sign that the cosmos was giving me the information I needed to finally make some sense of my life.
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