to feel what I feel, see what I see and pass on the ghostly news. I could write 10 books with the experiences I’ve had thus far in my 13-year career. I feel very privileged and also very respectful of the spirit world. To be given an insight into life after death is truly a gift to me as opposed to a gift from me.
The Vase
Jane from Perth had a very interesting story to tell me. Her main reason for arranging the consultation with me was a far more personal one, but when she began to relate the following, I found myself utterly engrossed.
Jane and her husband moved into their first home in the spring of 1997. They had been married only a matter of weeks, and naturally the young couple were busy making their new house a home.
Utterly exhausted one evening, the pair decided to have an early night. They both lay in bed reading when, out of the blue, an enormous thud could be heard from downstairs. At this point, the exact location of the noise wasn’t clear but as they tentatively descended the stairs, they were both drawn to the lounge. This room was the only one they had so far finished decorating.
Jane remembers that, despite the room being in pitch darkness, she did not feel afraid. During a later discussion, her husband was to admit to the same feeling. This was, of course, very strange. By all accounts it sounded as if there was someone in their lounge – and the most likely candidate was a burglar. However, at no time did either one feel afraid. They tell me they simply didn’t think along those lines.
As Frank, Jane’s husband, switched on the light, Jane was devastated to see one of her most loved belongings, an ancient crystal vase, lying on the floor. After an inspection, however, they discovered the vase had escaped the incident without the merest scratch – a miracle in itself as the vase was huge and the thud they heard as it fell had been resounding. Still, counting their blessings, they replaced the undamaged vase and returned to bed.
The following evening, Frank was in his study working and Jane was ironing in their bedroom. And, once again, thud! Both ran to the lounge and were met with the exact same scene from the night before. And, once again, the vase was intact.
Again, they replaced the vase and returned to the jobs they were doing prior to this incident.
The following evening, at the same time, it happened again. Assuming vibrations of some sort were causing the vase to fall to the floor, they decided not to push their luck. The vase couldn’t possibly continue to fall and remain unscathed each time so they moved it to a safer location.
The next day was Jane’s birthday. Frank sent her a beautiful bouquet of flowers, very fitting for such a priceless and sentimental vase. Forgetting about the three falls, Jane arranged the flowers in the vase and replaced it in its new location.
Ten full nights passed without incident.
After this time, the flowers began to die and so Jane threw them out, washed the vase and again replaced it.
That evening, the vase fell to the floor – undamaged once again. At last, the young newlyweds began to think there was something amiss here.
The exact same incident happened night after night. Jane was so afraid the vase would break that she moved it around the room many times, leaving a cushion directly underneath.
A few weeks passed and Jane, as planned, bid farewell to her colleagues as she began a new career elsewhere. She was showered with gifts, cards and flowers.
Arriving home that evening, Jane put the flowers in the vase. That night, nothing happened. In fact, the next 16 nights were quiet – the vase never once fell to the ground.
The next time it happened was the very evening when Jane once again discarded the dead flowers.
Becoming increasingly suspicious, Jane would alternate between having the vase filled with flowers and having the vase completely empty. The vase, she stressed to me, was solid, a good weight, so she had ruled out the possibility that the weightlessness caused by the lack of flowers could be responsible for the vase’s continuous falling.
This is all a few years ago now, but the answer to this query was straightforward.
When Jane related the events to her parents she was told that the vase had belonged to Jane’s grandmother, who in turn had inherited it from her mother – Jane’s great-grandmother. She had never met the old lady but was told that she loved her garden, flowers and plants, and was more often than not seen out in her garden picking the huge variety of blooms she had grown over the years.
It was clear, to me anyway, that Jane and her husband were not alone in their new marital home, but they had a spirit with them – the spirit of Jane’s great-grandmother. And her way of proving she was with them was to cause the vase to fall.
Breaking Jane’s vase wasn’t her intention. She just loved to see the vase filled with flowers, as it was while she was alive. Jane now ensures the vase is never empty.
Could the moral of this story be that heaven does not have a florist’s shop?
Alec’s Exam
Years ago, I had a friend called Alec, whom I still think about with fondness. I remember an amazing story he told me – one of my first experiences of someone relating an encounter to me. We were only teenagers but Alec’s story has remained in my mind all these years.
When he was only 13 or 14, Alec lost his father. He had adored his dad, although I believe their relationship was less than affectionate. I know my friend just wanted to be loved by his dad, or at least to hear the words that his dad loved him. Alec senior wasn’t a demonstrative man – in fact, as a very young child, I was always slightly frightened of him!
A few years after his father’s death, Alec called me and we met, as we often did, for a chat. I immediately noticed there was something different about my friend. He looked happy. He had a glow I’d never really seen before, not before his father’s death and certainly not since.
Alec excitedly began to tell me what had happened. He told me his father had come to him, firstly in a dream. For days he remembered the dream but thought little of its meaning. A dream to him was a dream. However, arriving home from school one day after a particularly difficult exam, Alec flopped onto the sofa with his feet up. Suddenly he sat bolt upright – he just sensed his father was around and knew he’d get a telling off for sprawling. It had become a bit of a private joke between Alec and his siblings. When dad was out, they’d sprawl. When he was home, they would sit upright. As soon as their father left the room, they’d laugh and resume sprawl position.
Alec looked over to where his father usually sat and was dumbfounded to see his father sitting there. He described his dad as ‘looking perfectly alive’. There was no grey mist around him. He was not opaque. He was just normal, just as he had been when he was alive.
Alec senior began to talk. He told Alec how proud he was of him and that, despite feeling nervous about the day’s exam, he had in fact passed with flying colours. He even told him the exact score he would receive.
At this point I was still a little sceptical but Alec continued. He told me his father went on to say he had been with him during the exam. In fact, he had sat right next to him – the only empty seat in the classroom. That seat, his father continued, should have been filled by a fellow pupil, but the pupil had received bad news that day regarding his grandmother. Alec had wondered why his pal hadn’t turned up for the exam.
Alec’s
