Tuesday, August 15, 2017

The Intersecting Lines of Palmistry and Medicine



My left palm
My right palm
 Unlike most other psychics, I have never been very interested in the "tools of the trade."  I have never really examined closely the various psychic "systems" that are often used to predict the future or past, such as palm reading, tarot cards, runes, dowsing, tea reading, pendulums, numerology and astrology.  While these have mostly been relegated to the realm of fortune tellers, I do not doubt that they have real aspects.  However, in my own experience, I have found that my best "tool" is my own psyche and body.  As I have taught my students in my psychic development classes for many years, any of these other methods are simply like fire-starter tools to get the campfire started faster than it might otherwise.  These are merely tools to spark the psychic fires of the mind.  I simply by-pass these "tools" in my process.

Recently, a client posed a question about the meaning of the lines in the palms of their hand.  Since this seemed to be a question of palmistry, I consulted (for the first real time) a number of palmistry texts to find an appropriate answer.  While researching this, I decided to try and find an answer to a question I have had my entire life about the lines in my own hands.  On my left hand, I have what appear to be the very common and traditional three major lines.  They are identified in palmistry as the "Life Line" (wrapping around the base of the thumb), the "Head Line" running horizontally across the center of the palm, and the "Heart Line" running horizontally closest to the base of most of the fingers.  However, on my right hand, I only have two lines - the Life Line and a very strong Head Line.  The Heart Line is absent.  Ever since I was a child, I always thought it was a bit odd.  None of my other friends had this discrepancy of three lines in one hand and only two in the other.  What did it mean?

I finally found my answer - in palmistry of all places!  No, it doesn't mean that I am heartless!  It means my Head and Heart Lines are merged in a rare condition called a "Simian Crease" (a term now considered a it perjorative because it references the simple hand crease found in monkeys and apes) otherwise known by its more technical name "Single Transverse Palmar Crease."  It can be found on one or both hands and is often genetic.  In palmistry language, the Simian Crease means the Heart and Head lines have merged and become indistinguishable.  People with this crease have merged their emotions and their intellectual aspects as one.  For me, this is especially true.  I would take it a step further and suggest that my right and left brain functions are also heavily merged and operate in synch.  It is the basis of my moniker "The Skeptical Psychic."

Even more interestingly, this two-line Simian Crease in the palm of my right hand has very definite medical and genetic connotations.  First of all, it is quite rare.  Depending upon what sources you read, it only occurs in 1.5 to 4 percent of the population.  Men are more than twice as likely than women to have the Simian Crease.  It occurs mostly among Asian and Native American peoples.  Roughly half of all people with Down Syndrome have this crease.  Furthermore, the crease often associated with any number of abnormal medical conditions affecting the normal growth or function of the chromosomes.  These include: 1) fetal alcohol syndrome, Down Syndrome (chromosome 21), Cri du Chat Syndrome (chromosome 5), Klinefelter Syndrome, Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, Noonan Syndrome (chromosome 12), Patau Syndrome (chromosome 13), Edwards syndrome (chromosome 18), Aarskog-Scott Syndrome (X-lined recessive), Leukocyte Adhesion Deficiency-2 (autosomal recessive disorder), Nevoid Basal Cell Carcinoma Syndrome and Robinow Syndrome (chromosome 9 mutation).  I looked up these medical conditions and most result in severe learning disabilities and heart deformities among other things. 

Speaking as a female, without a drop of Asian or Native American blood, without any history of chromosomal disease, learning disability or heart deformities, this makes me fairly unusual. 

Then I read the Simian crease is also linked to a number of psychological conditions.  These include: delinquent behavior (a higher than average number of criminals in prison populations have this crease at a rate of nearly 3 times greater!), hyperactivity, neuroticism and schizophrenia.  No, I have never spent any time in prison or been accused of criminal wrongdoing!  The closest I ever got was when, as an attorney, I represented criminals briefly while doing criminal defense work early on in my career!  The only thing I might ever be accused of might be a bit of neuroticism... nothing unusual!

I returned to the books of palmistry and discovered my only identifiable reality.  I read the Simian crease is considered a "gift marker" - of a special gift - that of "intensity of focus" (with its "shadow side" of feeling misunderstood).  Since I cannot seem to find any other common or logical reason why I have this Simian Crease, this rationale seems to be the most accurate of all.  I am intensely focused as a human being.  And, yes, I often feel misunderstood.  I guess palmistry works!






Monday, July 3, 2017

What Happens When Bio-Electricity Interferes With Technology?



In recent days I seem to be transforming into one of those people who suffers from strange electronic events.  Inexplicable electronic interruptions of my various technology have reached new heights of strangeness.  I have watched these electronic malfunctions occur with increasing frequency over the last few years - I was never one of those people who claimed to not be able to touch a light bulb or a telephone without breaking it - and I am beginning to see correlations I cannot totally explain.

Two days ago, the day got off to an unusual start when I received a text directed to me and nine other individuals (including my husband, son, daughter, my husband's brother in France, and several other friends in the U.S. and California who don't know each other, plus one unidentified person).  My husband had texted "Liked an image" but there was no image to be found.  Furthermore, he denied ever seeing or reading this text mail.  Everyone was uniformly confused. 

Then, a bit later in the morning, my cell phone decided to start making calls all by itself!  My cell phone called a friend of mine in New Jersey and then my daughter in New York.  I was not near the phone at the time it decided to dial them.  They were as confused as I was. 

A bit later, I did a reading for a client via my landline.  As we were discussing an issue involving my client's attorney, a woman's voice suddenly broke in to our line.  I was surprised but figured perhaps there was a woman somewhere else in his house who had accidentally picked up the phone.  She seemed to be talking to someone else.  It was like the old days when a third party could occasionally be heard talking when the phone lines got crossed.  That hasn't happened to me in about 40 years.  Anyway, my client suddenly recognized her voice and identified her as the paralegal from his attorney's office.  She asked why he had called her.  He said he had not called her because he was, in fact, on another phone call (with me)!  All three of us were very confused.  My client later explained to me that it would have been impossible for him to have called her since he hadn't touched his phone and didn't have a clue how to make a conference call. 

My cell phone which is programmed to ring with the volume (on high) receives calls from people without ringing at all.  Occasionally my calls to other people does not result in their phones ringing either.  Why?

My computer, iphone and ipad then seemed to go on strike.  All three refused to let me get onto my regular websites or look at my emails for no obvious reason.  The service seemed not just sluggish, like bad internet connection, but sporadic and irrational.  I could get online only after repeated attempts. I was very frustrated because I couldn't do my work.  Even as I write this now, my computer strangely reverts to previous fonts without any rhyme or reason and error messages continue to pop up.

That afternoon, my son was about to go out after having washed his shoulder-length hair without drying it.  I offered, for the first time, to blow dry his hair.  We went to my bathroom and I started drying his hair with my blow dryer.  Within minutes, the hair dryer blew out the entire breaker circuit in the bathroom and upstairs hallways.  This was strange because I have much longer, thicker hair and have blown my hair dry with this hair dryer in this bathroom for many years with absolutely no problem.  We reset the breaker, tried it again, and the dryer blew the circuit again.  It seemed like everything electrical I touched - physically - was refusing to cooperate.  It has worked just fine since then - so it doesn't seem to have been a problem with the dryer or the circuit!

Later, when I turned on a ceiling light in a hallway in a different part of the house (on a different breaker), the light bulb blew out.  Coincidence?

For several years I have noticed a very loud "cracking" noise in my bedroom at night.  At first it came from my desktop computer.  I thought it must be heat related - perhaps too much sunlight on the monitor or trapped heat in the computer components.  However, a couple of years ago, my husband installed a flat screen TV in the room.  Almost immediately the cracking noise ceased to come from the computer and started coming from the new TV.  Again, I tried to rationalize the noise.  However, the strange thing is that the noise has gotten louder and louder to the point that it actually wakes me up several times every night. It is unrelated to the temperature in the room or the length of time the TV has been on or off.  I have begun to believe this "cracking" noise is the sound of either spirits or other entities breaking the "veil" to communicate with me.  There are many times when I telepathically ask questions and ask for answers in the form of "one crack means yes" and "two cracks means no" and seem to receive "answers."  Not definitive yet - just a lurking possibility.

Yes, I have also noticed a tendency of street lights to go on or off just as I drive underneath them.  I know this is a common experience for many UFO experiencers.  While this seems to happen with relative frequency to me (as opposed to others I have asked), I am not yet convinced this is a real phenomenon.

While these all seem to be strange and unrelated events, I am no longer so sure... I believe my bioenergy has begun to synch to some degree with other electrical "events" and may be causing some of these weird malfunctions.  Perhaps it is an indication of a "gathering" of energy within our increasingly intrusive and ubiquitous electromagnetic fields in our everyday environment.  Perhaps my psychic or UFO work has initiated this electrical increase.  But the bottom line is that I am concerned that soon I won't be able to handle any electrical items without blowing them out! 

Anyone else have a similar issue?







Thursday, June 22, 2017

Tapping Into an Alien Mind


I have lectured and written extensively on the topic of alien communication.  In addition to research on the ways in which aliens communicate (telepathically, verbally, linguistically, and written), depending upon the species of alien, I have had my own personal experiences.  I have written about this in my book "How to Talk to an Alien" (2015).

I speak with many people who have their own personal experiences or knowledge of alien interactions.  I have often offered certain types of guidance or psychic interpretations of various types of communications to people who are often left confused and bewildered by their own memories or channeled speech or writing of alien-sounding languages.

Anyone who has experience or knowledge in this area knows that aliens are best known for communicating with us telepathically.  They are also, apparently, quite able to read our minds and control our states of consciousness.  Many contactees are often left with a sense of being helpless at best or a victim at worst.  During contact or abduction experiences many people explain that the ETs are able to implant thoughts in their brains and also to extract thoughts - as a kind of one-sided communication.  Humans are often left feeling like they are an open book.

I have taken part in several CE-5 groups, as well as privately with friends, where we have been able to successfully "call in" or "contact" UFOs in the night skies.  The UFOs generally manifest themselves by "communicating" back to us in the form of seemingly "impossible" manoeuvers with the craft (e.g. rapid figure eights or right turns at phenomenal speeds) or flashes of extraordinarily bright and huge bursts of light.  But who are we really kidding here?  Did we "call them in" or were they waiting for us already having implanted certain ideas or scenarios in our heads?  Did we really "communicate" anything at all other than "Hey there, if you're out there, could you give us a sign of your presence?" - similar to the ubiquitous calls of paranormal investigators seeking to make contact with intelligent ghosts!

It did not occur to me until recently during a psychic reading I gave for a client that it would even be possible for the human mind to "tap into" the mind of an alien.  It always seems to operate in the reverse way.  However, my client, an abductee, requested that I offer psychic confirmation of certain alien communications stemming from my client's alien abduction.  The strange thing was that when I psychically "located" the event, I found myself viewing it, not from the client's point of view, but from the aliens' vantage point!  Not only was I viewing my client's old residence from the skies, but I described it very accurately.  I was able to describe the characteristics and number of aliens involved, the manner in which the client was transferred to the craft, and also an accurate description of some of the alien technology shown to the client during this UFO experience! 

My immediate disclaimer is that I do not recall ever having had any abduction or contact experience in my life.  I have never manifested any "classic" signs of an abduction like a physical implant, peculiar imprints or rapid healing of scars, symptoms of radiation sickness, etc.  Yes, I have read accounts of such things and have spoken with people who have experienced them.  But other than my UFO sightings and some odd telephonic communications, I would have no way to have "guessed" the facts I gave in the reading.

What it suggests to me - a flash of insight - is that we humans have the ability to literally tap into the minds of ETs!  It is not simply a "one-sided" type of game of telepathy or clairvoyance.  If we can do this, then we can learn even more about their origins, behaviors, and thoughts.  What a concept!

Monday, April 24, 2017

A Triptych Dream About Ingo Swann

A Civil War battlefield leg amputation
This past weekend, I went on a paranormal investigation in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, with a group affiliated with the internet radio show The Paranormal View.  We investigated the haunted Fairfield Inn (where I had stayed roughly eight years ago and dealt with three historical ghosts in my bedroom that I later verified through research).  The inn is one of the most haunted locations I know.  However, there were roughly 20 people on this investigation. I have difficulty tuning into the spirits of the dead when I am bombarded with the psychic energies of the living.  I haven't reviewed my electronic recordings and photos yet, but my sense was that the spirits were keeping their distance from such a large crowd of living humans! 

The inn was full that night - all the other investigators were staying there - so my daughter (who accompanied me on this trip) and I stayed at a nearby farm.  It had also served as a battlefield hospital during the Civil War.  The farm was located on the road used by the Confederate soldiers on their long march out of Gettysburg toward the end of the war.  We chose to sleep in the allegedly most haunted room in the farmhouse.  It was the room where the doctors had conducted their "treatments" of wounded soldiers. 

Given the state of medicine at the time, and the fact that most of the bullet wounds suffered by the soldiers were devastating due to the enormous grape-sized bullets used in their muskets, most of these treatments consisted of amputations of legs and arms.  I have visited many such homes that were converted into temporary Civil War hospitals and most are haunted.  It was reported that many such hospitals had piles of amputated limbs that were stacked so high they reached the second floor windows!

After two days of long investigations into the night at the Fairfield Inn, I just wasn't in the mood to be dealing with more ghosts in my bedroom at the farm.  I tried to tune out all thoughts of spirits to avoid inviting them into my space.  I tried to make sure the loud clanging in the room at 4 AM was just old pipes in a hot water heating system.  I checked to make sure the little footsteps in the room at 3 AM was just one of the owner's seven cats coming to pay us a visit.  I tried to dismiss the fact that the lamp had abruptly turned off by itself while my daughter and I were talking earlier in the evening. 

Ingo Swann's "Millenium" triptych painting displayed at the American Visionary Art Museum
photo by Nancy du Tertre)

At any rate, I didn't sleep much and woke up frequently both nights just to double check the state of the room.  The last night we were there I must have relaxed my guard a little bit.  I had the most peculiar set of three related dreams - like a triptych painting. 

In the first dream, I was strangely in charge of preparing Ingo Swann's corpse for burial.  This included cutting his toenails.  Ingo Swann, known as being the creator of Remote Viewing (psychic spy techniques) for the CIA, was one of my mentors.  I knew him for about a decade and was very sad when he passed away in 2013.  I woke up from this bizarre dream fragment wondering why I was dreaming about Ingo and why it was related to his corpse.  I reasoned it must have been because I was sleeping in a room where, in all likelihood, many corpses were probably prepared for burial. 

However, when I went back to sleep, the dream continued - as if on cue - and this was certainly not voluntary or desired on my part.  In the second dream, I was now attending Ingo's funeral service (which I did not attend in real life).  I was now more of a consciousness, and less a physical person, like a fly on the wall, observing the people who attended his funeral, including some of his family members, like his sister and niece.  I woke up again.   

I couldn't understand why I was fixating on Ingo and his death.  No obvious reason to me because I wasn't thinking about him at all.  Granted, thoughts of him may have slipped into my subconscious mind due to some recent events.
  • True, I recently was asked to write a foreword to a book and to include some stories about Ingo.  As soon as I was asked  by the author (in a private text on Facebook Messenger) to see if I would be willing to write the foreword, I received a friend request from none other than the deceased Ingo Swann (!).  It was was obviously a fake profile.  I am not an idiot. But the timing of its appearance shook me to my core.  I have never mentioned Ingo to anyone on Facebook and this one time on Messenger was in a private text.  Even more weirdly, the friend request disappeared off my chronology within the next hour.  When I searched for this Ingo Swann profile in Facebook, it would not open.  All other profiles opened without a problem.   
  • True, I recently learned the film documentary about Ingo (for which I was interviewed about a year ago or so) is having a screening next month in May.  While I was interviewed for this movie, the director's still camera, pointed at me, had taken a picture with a large flash by itself.  No one was near the camera at the time...
  • True, I recently went to the Baltimore American Visionary Art Museum and saw the rare display of many of Ingo's paintings, including the huge triptych painting (yes, I get the significance only now) which I had seen so many years ago in his studio in New York City. 
So I went back to sleep again.  The dream continued into a third dream!  It is the only time in my life that I can recall having a dream continue three times.  Every once in a while, if awoken from a great dream, I have tried to will myself back into the same dream - without much luck.  This time I had been wide awake in between each dream and had absolutely no desire or intention to continue the same dream - but it kept happening anyway. 

In the third dream, I was now with his real estate agent and his sister and some other presumed family members (I have never met any of them).  We were now in the bedroom of his house.  It did not look at all like his real-life bedroom.  People were haggling over the distribution of his various assets.  His room was mostly empty and very stark - almost monastic.  I remember his preference, in real-life, for unusual or second-hand furniture, plates and decorative objects.  He wasn't fussy.  He didn't care much for "stuff."

I have never had a dream that continued, like a movie, in three distinct parts.  The "intermissions" were my waking moments.  It was even more odd because I did not understand why I was dreaming about Ingo or his death.  Perhaps, having attended this paranormal investigation, I had inadvertently tuned my psychic receptors in the direction of the dead.  Perhaps this was Ingo making yet another appearance in my life...






Monday, February 27, 2017

How I Entered My Husband's Erotic Dream

 


Dreams have fascinated us since the beginning of mankind.  Some people remember them, and some don't.  Some people dream in color, others don't. Some people can control the action or outcomes in their dreams, while others cannot.  Some dreams predict the future or reveal hidden concepts, others clarify our emotional reality or psychological concerns.  As for me, I have been a lucid dreamer since I was a young child and learned how to understand I was in a dream and could control the outcomes.  I always dream in color.  I have had many predictive dreams that later came true (usually they had nothing to do with me or my personal reality).  I generally remember my dreams every night.  The point is: I have a fair amount of control over my dream life.

A couple of months ago, I experienced a highly unusual dream.  I was able to enter my husband's dream!  This is different from the more common experience of two people sharing the same dream - I actually entered his dream - it was not mine!  Here is what happened:

In my dream, I was located about 8 feet away from my husband, Patrick.  He was either seated or kneeling in front of an Asian-looking woman with long black flowing hair who was seated or kneeling facing him.  They were only about a foot apart, fully clothed, and staring lovingly into each others eyes.  I believe Patrick had his right hand around her waist.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing!  I stared at Patrick's face, scrutinizing every detail, and the more I stared, his face began to appear younger and younger.  He suddenly seemed to become aware of my presence in his intimate dream.  He turned his head slowly in my direction and our eyes locked.  After a couple of seconds of staring at each other, he turned his head away and then leaned in toward the Asian woman and was about to kiss her.  I became outraged at his behavior but I was suddenly awoken out of my dream when the phone rang.

I went downstairs to get some coffee.  Patrick was already pouring his coffee. 

I said, "You know, I had the most unusual dream just now."

He quickly said, "Yeah! So did I!" (This was highly unusual for him.  He almost never remembers his dreams and always dreams in black and white).

"I dreamt you were with a woman!" I announced.

"Yes!" he shouted. "I was with a woman in my dream too!  She was Asian."

"I know," I said.  "She had long black hair."

"Yes!!"

"But she wasn't exactly Asian," I said. "She looked sort of Polynesian or Middle Eastern."

Patrick looked at me with a stunned expression.

"Well, come to think of it, you are absolutely right.  She looked kind of Polynesian..."

"You were sitting opposite her and you were about to kiss her!" I snapped.

"Yes, we were sitting facing each other, and I had my arm around her, but I wasn't going to have sex with her!" he yelled defensively.  "She was the one who was going to kiss me!"

"No! You were going to kiss her, Patrick!  I saw you pucker your lips."

"Well, nothing happened because the phone rang and woke me up," he said.  "And besides, there was another woman in my dream.  I don't know who she was, but she was sitting not far from us and she was just staring at us.  It was some blonde lady."

"Are you kidding me?" I said, "That was me! I was staring at you both!"

"Oh my God," he said with a stunned look on his face, "You're right.  That was you!"

Suddenly, it dawned on both of us, that we had both been in his dream.  The verifications were astounding - including the fact that the "action" had been halted at the exact same moment for both of us when the phone rang and woke both of us up.  The only discrepancy that we could find between our two dreams was that in my dream, I was located to Patrick's left side, and in his dream, I was located to his right side.  We both recalled the moment where our eyes locked and we stared briefly at each other.  I have never entered another person's dream before.  There were absolutely no reasons in our reality together that would have constituted a subliminal storyline in this dream.  Patrick and I have been happily married for nearly 30 years without any incidents! 

Of course, I now tease him that he can never be unfaithful to me - even in his dreams!  Clearly, he has been on his best behavior since then!!  That is the problem when you are married to a psychic.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

The Hallucinatory Aspect of Our Times


We live in a highly fragile state of planetary peace.  The new American "shock-jock" President Donald Trump not only caught most of the world off-guard with his presidential win, but in a whirlwind of signing controversial executive orders within the first weeks of his presidency, has managed to incite what amounts to mass hysteria on a global level.  Elected officials in governments around the world have started sounding the alarms about Trump's presidency.  No one has a clear understanding of how he intends to diminish the NATO Alliance or rearrange global politics by slamming Chinese trade and cozying up to Russia. Everyone is universally confused and bewildered.  There have been protest marches around the world, not just in America and not just by Democrats, against his new policies. 

One of Trump's most recent edicts, an order abruptly halting all immigration of refugees from seven predominantly Muslim Middle Eastern countries, has caused chaos in the airports and immigration departments.  It also led to Trump firing the Acting Attorney General Sally Yates immediately after she publicly stated her belief that the executive order was unconstitutional and should not be defended by her Department of Justice lawyers in court.  And the hits keep coming.  Trump may have decided to ditch his own recently-selected national security advisor, Lieutenant General Michael Flynn, in favor of promoting Breitbart conservative news media mogul and White House strategist, Steve Bannon, to a spot on the National Security Council.  It seems Trump's television persona on the show "The Apprentice" ("You're fired!") is surfacing as his true real life persona. 

I am not generally inclined to get fired up by politics.  I tend to stay out of it, since my childhood days of living in the ultra-liberal Democratic city of Boston during the Vietnam War protests (remember the famous bumper stickers: "Don't Blame Me I'm From Massachusetts") in one of the only Republican families, probably made me gun shy. 

The problem, as I see it, is related not only to Trump's policies, but primarily to his style.  His personal style is abrasive, bombastic, confrontational and autocratic.  From his years of being able to run his own companies according to his personal whims and wishes, firing and hiring at will, litigating anyone who dares to dispute him, he had developed an "in your face" style of leadership.  I believe Trump's leadership style was actually very appealing to many American voters - particularly in contrast to what was often called the "feckless" and "ineffectual" leadership of Obama - because it seemed like finally we found a leader with some real testosterone.  Testosterone translated into security and protection for us, as well as giving the average Joe a fighting chance to challenge Washington's inept, bickering and corrupt political system. 

Trump has an ability, by making blustering outrageous statements and then to "double down" on them no matter how shocking, to push people into extremist positions.  They feel they have no choice.  Even mild-mannered, apolitical, middle-of-the-road folks are suddenly feeling compelled to react and take political sides.  People who are normally polite and respectful, now feeling bullied and disrespected by Trump, are getting powered up and feel the need to fight back.  In other words, Trump's style of delivery (forget about the actual policies) are eliciting mass hysteria.  He does not evidence any intention to listen, be conversational, engage in dialogue with those who disagree with him, or - heaven forbid - change his mind after listening to the facts.  This is not only his biggest problem, but it will create global chaos and - I am deeply concerned now - war... domestic and international.

This past week I have received information from several sources and psychic colleagues, none of whom know each other, suggesting we are at what is perhaps the crossroads of a very imminent global catastrophe.  The psychic visions of the future of our planet are truly horrifying. I have felt and seen them intuitively myself.  I imagine most people feel it also.  I have spent months trying to calm my clients, friends, colleagues and social media friends.  It is terrifying and I am generally not a person to feel panicked. 

What can we do to defuse this future scenario?  My suggestion is that we all: 1) calm each other down, 2) understand that style is different from content, 3) realize we don't need to react emotionally, and 4) give Trump's policies a chance. 

What Trump fails to realize is that there is nothing more dangerous in the entire world than frightened people - and he is frightening masses of people around the globe and destabilizing our collective relationships.  The most dangerous beast in the jungle is not the most powerful animal - it is the one who is most frightened.  A frightened animal will kill everything around it for no reason at all.  

Thursday, December 1, 2016

The Spirit of a Murdered Girl at My Massage Parlor


I discovered decades ago that I do some of my best psychic work while getting a massage.  That's because I'm so relaxed that my thinking brain is turned off.  It wasn't until the last few years that I discovered that the spirits of the deceased also seem to show up while I'm relaxing.  The spirits often insist I deliver certain messages to my unsuspecting massage therapists (often from their relatives) while they are working on me.  I frequently oblige the spirits and give the info, and the therapists react differently.  Some are cool about it and others are shocked - one was so genuinely freaked out she actually made sure I could not be her client again!  

Anyway, for the last two and a half years or so, I have kept the same massage therapist at the same salon in a local New Jersey strip mall not far from home.  She doesn't mind when I give her psychic or spiritual information.  It's usually pretty accurate. 

The salon is set up with a long hallway and seven rooms.  We have always been in rooms # 2, 3, or 4 (on both sides of the hallway near the front desk and waiting room).  About two months ago, my therapist told me some of the massage therapists had discreetly exchanged stories among themselves of seeing a dark shadow figure of a small child darting around the empty corners of Rooms #1 and 2.  She herself had been alone in one of those rooms and heard something roll and drop off the counter even though she wasn't near it, and it spooked her.  

Shadow figures weren't the only odd phenomenon at this massage salon.  At the very end of the long, dark hallway, the last room at the end, Room #7, reserved for couples massage and physical therapy, often had such a peculiar horrific stench that rendered it completely unusable.  No one seemed to know the source of the odor.  The foul smell seemed to arise from in between the walls and floor, and invade the entire space, sometimes pouring over into Room #6.  Then it would disappear just as mysteriously.  Most of the massage therapists instinctively avoided the room.  We walked down there together and I was able to catch a whiff of it.  It had the sickening smell of death. 

I knew the place was haunted.  I suggested we do a paranormal investigation one night after it had closed if my massage therapist could get her manager's permission. She liked the idea and said she would ask.

On Monday, November 21, 2016, I showed up for my massage and my therapist gave me the bad news.  Her manager had denied permission to do an investigation. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Because she doesn't want to stir up any paranormal activity," explained my therapist.  "Besides, she says ghosts don't exist." 

Huh?  That didn't make any sense at all. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be able to ever investigate this haunted massage salon.  

My therapist led me down the long hallway to our little massage room.  For the first time in two and a half years, my massage was in Room #6.  We had never been in there before.  As I lay face down on the heated table with my eyes closed facing the back wall, for the first half hour of my 90 minute massage, we chatted about family and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.  I began to get into the zone.  Then I think my therapist mentioned that it was a good thing our room didn't smell bad because some of the therapists had smelled that stench from Room #7 and this time it had the smell of gasoline.  Well, suddenly something dawned on me. 

"You know," I said, "I was having a psychic moment. I 'heard' the word 'blaze' in my mind a couple of minutes ago. I thought it was intended for the client I'm doing a reading for later today, but now I think it was meant for the ghost who is here!'

"What do you mean?" asked my therapist.

"I believe the spirit who is haunting this place died in a fire in the space next door where Room #7 is now.  I think there was a 'blaze' - you know, like a big fire.  Now, I'm thinking someone poured gasoline on it, which means it was set intentionally.  And that means... this poor spirit was murdered!"

Holy shit.  As I pondered my own strange revelation, with my face buried in the massage head rest and my eyes closed, I suddenly began to smell that strange odor as if it were slowly leaking through the wall from Room #7. 

"Hey!" I said.  "Do you smell that?"

"No.  What?"

"Do you smell that nasty smell from next door?"

"No, I don't smell it," said my therapist, who was standing at the end of the table working on massaging my feet.  (Obviously, my feet don't smell either!)

"Well, I smell it.  The spirit is in here right now!"

This was not the first time I had smelled a spirit.  I had actually written about smelling a spirit in my book "Psychic Intuition."  I explained the way you can tell the difference between a "real" smell and a "psychic" smell is by the way they travel.  A psychic or spirit smell breaks all the rules of chemistry and physics regarding how odors appear, travel and dissipate.  I explained that spirits manifest this way and need to be recognized by the living in order to move on.  Sometimes they smell like sickeningly sweet rotten death.

I suddenly transitioned from massage client into full blown mediumship mode.  

Speaking directly to the spirit, I said, "I know you are here with us.  I want to talk to you and find out more about you.  But for me to understand you better, I need you to do something for me.  You see that light up on the wall?  I want you to make it flicker when I ask you a question, but I only want you to make it flicker when you want to answer 'yes' to my question, okay?"

Then my therapist suddenly dropped both my feet unceremoniously on the table, "Oh my God, the light just flickered!"

She could see the light from her vantage point, whereas I could not.  The light had not flickered at all for the half hour or so that we had been in the room up to that point.  In fact, for the next half hour during this interrogation, the light flickered immediately without any delay in response to my questions just as if we were having a conversation.  My therapist would shout out whether the light had blinked since I couldn't see it.

"Uh, okay, let's see, are you a man?" I asked.  (The light didn't blink).
"Are you a woman?"  (The light flickered immediately).
"Were you killed in a fire?"  (The light flickered).
"Did the fire happen right here?"  (The light flickered).
"Was the fire an accident?"  (The light did not flicker).
"So, the fire was intentional?" (The light flickered).
"Did someone try to hurt you?" (The light flickered).
"Was it someone you knew?"  (The light did not flicker).
"So, someone you didn't know, hurt you here by lighting the place on fire with gasoline?" (The light flickered).
"Was it a man?" (The light flickered).
"Were there more than just one man?" (The light did not flicker).
"Was it in the basement of the building?" (The light did not flicker).
"Was it upstairs on the first floor or second floor or upstairs?" (The light did not flicker).

I was momentarily stumped until my therapist wisely interjected that before the strip mall was built most of the property was probably still pasture land and fields.  She suggested the fire may have actually taken place outside.  I realized my mistake in assuming there had been a house on the property before the strip mall.

Based on another psychic hunch, I asked, "Was this fire in a barn?" (The light flickered).

Although one generally should avoid asking spirits about their own deaths since they are often unaware that they are dead, I decided to ask anyway.

"Did you die here in this fire?" (The light flickered).

Now I felt deeply saddened.  I paused for a few moments but then continued my questioning.

"I'm going to ask you how old you are.  But in order to get the answer, I will have to break it down into segments, so just flicker the lights when it applies to you, okay?" I said.  "Are you 20 years old or younger?"  (The lights flickered).
"Are you younger than 10 years old?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Are you 15 years old or younger?" (The lights flickered).

Yikes.  This poor girl was just a very young teenager, between 11 and 15 years old, when she was murdered.

"Does anyone know you are here?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Does your family or any of your friends know what happened to you?" (The lights did not flicker).
"Okay, now I need to know when this happened to you.  This is a little complicated, but I'm going to start listing the name of each decade starting with the year 1900 and I want you to flicker the lights when we come to the decade when this happened to you, okay?  You ready?  So, 1900." (The lights did not flicker).
"1910." (The lights did not flicker).
"1920." (The lights did not flicker).
"1930." (The lights did not flicker).
"1940." (The lights did not flicker).
"1950." (The lights flickered.)
"Okay, so it happened in the 1950's." (The lights flickered).

My therapist said, "You know, we could check this out in the historical town documents to see if there was a fire here in the 1950's..."

It was somewhere at about this point that I lost it emotionally.  I was gripped with goosebumps and chills with the realization that I was talking directly to the spirit of a young teenage girl who had been murdered by a man in the 1950's who then set fire to a barn with gasoline on a property surrounded by fields and no one knew where to find her.  She had been roaming the same location through the misty layers of time seeking help and recognition. 

It was then that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that the skeleton of this poor child was situated directly below Room #7.  I wanted to know her name, but knew it was no longer important.  What was important was that she had finally been "seen" and "recognized" by me.

"You know, there's no reason for you to hang around here anymore," I said to her. "You need to go be with your family and friends now.  If you follow the light, and I'm sure you can see the light now, don't be afraid, just follow it, and you will find everyone waiting for you.  Your family will be there and God will be waiting for you.  There is nothing left for you here.  Go ahead now."

As soon as I finished saying this, according to my therapist, who had long since stopped massaging my feet with any enthusiasm, the light went back to normal.  It completely stopped flickering, blinking or occasionally blazing with extra intense light.  The foul odor also dissipated.  I knew our gentle spirit had followed my advice.  I knew it in my entire being.

This entire episode with the spirit probably lasted about 30 minutes.  We continued on for the balance of my massage time, another half hour, in almost total stunned silence, broken only by my muffled sobs.   This was odd for me, since I'm not really the kind of person who cries for stuff like this.  For some reason, I felt like we were the first and only people who had actually grieved the loss of this little girl at what was the equivalent of her spiritual funeral. 

"I have a feeling there won't be any more smell in Room #7 from now on," I said.  "We need to document the timing of this... Don't you think there's something strange about the fact that we ended up in Room #6 today for the first time ever and your manager just told us we couldn't do a paranormal investigation?"

"Definitely," said my therapist.

"One more thing," I added without knowing why. "Can you please make sure someone puts a small piece of rose quartz in Room #7 as a kind of memorial to this spirit?  They don't need to know the whole story."














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