Archive for the Category » Psychic Ability «

Tuesday, March 01st, 2011

“I recalled a past life of his in which he was brutally murdered in his sleep. This trauma, still locked in his subconscious, was causing him great terror of sleeping deeply.”

I am part Mayan Indian and have been psychic since birth, so my entire life has been filled with very unusual experiences.

One day, my friend Don was visiting at my home and stayed overnight. I awoke very early the next morning even though we had chatted until 2 a.m. the previous evening, and on my way to the shower, I passed by the bedroom in which he slept.

Since he had left his door open, I couldn’t help but notice that he was trembling so violently in his sleep that the entire bed was shaking.

At breakfast, I asked Don why he shook so in his sleep. He said, “I don’t know, but it has been a most difficult problem because I have never had one single good night’s rest in my lifetime.”

After his departure, I recalled a past life of his in which he was brutally murdered in his sleep. This trauma, still locked in his subconscious, was causing him great terror of sleeping deeply.

I felt that I should share this insight with him. He responded, “Justyn, you are a deranged woman!” and angrily departed. I believed I would never see him again.

Surprise! About eight weeks later, he returned to thank me, saying, “I have slept peacefully ever since you revealed my past life experience to me.”

J. Vallori
Nevada City, CA

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Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

“Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group.”

I play in a blues band, but I don’t do it for a living. I’m a computer programmer by day, and by night I live out my fantasies with three friends I’ve known since grammar school.

We write songs during our spare time and perform at small venues in the hope some record executive will hear us. After all, what’s life without having something to dream about and hope for?

Several months ago, we stopped by a place where we sometimes perform. We just went over there for some drinks and to listen to the newcomers who play there on open mic night.

As usual, the “talent” was mediocre, but then an older woman (when I say “older,” I mean she was maybe fifty years old) walked up to the stage with her guitar and started playing. She had a quality about her that was mesmerizing, particularly because she talked rather than sing.

At first she spoke about herself, her ex, her kids. Then she looked across the room at our table and starting talking about us. At first we laughed at everything she said because we assumed she was just winging it, making things up. She spoke about who we were, our aspirations, the kind of music we played, what did for a living. But then she was getting very specific – and very accurate. She was right on.

Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group. Things like what we thought about the manager of our band, how we almost let our drummer go even though he was a good buddy (You should have seen the look he gave us when she mentioned that.)

And when she said Barry, our lead guitarist, was leaving his job to start a business, his mouth dropped open. He had never mentioned it to us.

Afterwards, she came over and sat with us. We questioned her knowledge of us and still thought it was some kind of trick. Then she dropped this bombshell: She looked at Gary and told him she was sorry his parents would be getting divorced. Gary stiffened and said his parents had been happily married for almost thirty years. She looked at him and nodded, then excused herself and walked away.

We all looked at Gary who seemed distraught. Then he called after her and said you may be right, they just started talking a few weeks ago about living separately. He asked how she could have possibly have known. She smiled and touched her heart. “It’s all in here,” she said. She wished us good luck and walked out of the building and that’s the last we ever saw of her.

H. Gubinoff
Toronto, Canada

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Tuesday, January 11th, 2011

“I said, how do you know about Marie, and she started leafing through one of her magazines. Looking up, she said it’s all in here, it’s all in here. Then she abruptly turned and walked out.”

I have worked in retail for over nineteen years and believe me, in that time I have seen everything – from the nicest people in the world to the nastiest. I’ve seen a woman go into labor and rush off to the hospital, and I saw an elderly man collapse in front of me with a serious heart attack.

But perhaps the strangest incident was the woman who was shabbily dressed and walked through the door carrying a stack of magazines. She laid them down on the counter right in front of me and started leafing through the pages, periodically looking up at me and smiling.

Then, in the calmest, sweetest voice I ever heard, she said, I’m not crazy you know. I had expected to hear a voice that was a little off, a little brittle. I didn’t think she would sound like a normal, intelligent person.

Holding a few of the magazines in her hands, she told me she picks up “clues” from writers who write in “code” in magazines and newspapers. Now I knew she was a whacko and she noticed the look in my eyes and said, I know something about you that could be very helpful to you.

I said, uh huh, sure. And then she dropped the bombshell on me. She put her face very close to mine and said, “You should marry her, you know.” I said what are you talking about, and she said, “Marie.”

Well, I was stunned. Marie was my girlfriend whom I had just met a month ago, and she was threatening to walk out on me if I refused to marry her. This had come to a head the previous night, and how in the world did this strange vagabond know about it. After all, I had told no one at work about Marie because I try to separate business from pleasure.

I said, how do you know about Marie, and she started leafing through one of her magazines. Looking up, she said it’s all in here, it’s all in here. Then she abruptly turned and walked out.

I never saw her again, but I’ll never understand how she did it. My best guess is that although I have no doubt she’s mentally ill and my heart goes out to her, somehow she has developed psychic capabilities that allow her to pick up information from a person’s thoughts.

And then it came to me… when she entered the store and walked toward my counter, Marie was definitely on my mind at the time. I think she “heard” my thoughts and that’s why in this large store I worked in, she came directly up to me.

R. Landry
Houston, Texas

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Tuesday, September 07th, 2010

“After a while, they sat down on a bench, and the dog sat down in front of them, unmoving, staring quietly all the time.”

I’ve traveled all over the world, and recently I discovered a new wonderland, New Zealand. What a wonderful place. What wonderful people.

But, boy did I have a most unusual experience there. I can certainly say that. It was early Sunday morning, and I was taking my usual morning walk when I passed a young couple pushing a stroller.

I stopped and chatted for a while, and I noticed that their dog, which was a little ragged-looking and an obvious mixture of several breeds, kept staring at me. After a few minutes, without it ever taking its eyes off me, I became a bit unsettled. I asked them if their dog looked everyone in the eye, and did so without ever looking away.

What they told me gave me the chills.

He was apparently lost or homeless when he literally walked up to them in the park and started following them. There was no one else in sight, and he didn’t have any dog tags. And just like he was doing to me, he kept staring at them. After a while, they sat down on a bench, and the dog sat down in front of them, unmoving, staring quietly all the time.

They felt they had no choice but to take him home which was several blocks away and not in a straight line. What they couldn’t understand and still can’t explain to this day is that when they got up, the dog rose too and walked in front of them, leading the way.

The mutt had no idea where they lived but somehow, instinctively, he led them right to their front door where he sat down and looked at them as they walked up the walkway to the door.

No one in the neighborhood had ever seen the dog before so there was no way he could have known where they lived. The couple relayed one more thing. This wasn’t the only time the dog led them somewhere. He often leads the way, rarely making a mistake as to where they are going. It’s as if this stray dog is a mind reader.

And he never makes a wrong turn. Not even on the day they first found him and took him home, or rather he led them home.

V. Penner
Skokie, Illinois

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Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

“She knew the thought was coming from me.”

I was on a flight from Los Angeles to Tampa, Florida when I realized I had forgotten to leave the key under the front doormat for my friend Alice who was going to feed and walk the dogs.

Because she’s one of the few people who doesn’t carry a cell phone, there was no way I could call to tell her that I always hid a spare key in the shed beside the garage.  I could visualize my two collies running around the house, desperate to get outside to relieve themselves.  I could also visualize Alice’s look of disappointment and frustration at not being able to get inside the house.

The moment I got off the plane my cell phone beeped and it was Alice.  I started to apologize and explain where the extra key was hidden, and I was taken aback when she said she had found it and everything was OK.

I didn’t understand, as I had never revealed the extra key to her, but she said when she was standing in front of the door, the image of the key on a shelf in the shed kept appearing in her mind.  She said she knew the thought was coming from me, and she wasn’t the least bit surprised when she found the key precisely where she had envisioned it.

I’ve had somewhat similar experiences with my sister Jodi over the years but never with anyone else.  Even to this day, I’ll get an “instant message” from Jodi, and I’ll pick up the phone and tell her exactly what she had relayed telepathically.

Helen Basset
Jackson, Miss.

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Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

“I had this awful premonition that something was wrong”

It was the sixteenth of October and I was getting ready to celebrate my 29nd birthday with my fiancée, Lawrence.

We had been dating for over a year, and he had asked me to marry him the previous weekend.  I was surprised because he had expressed so many times that marriage was not for him.  My parents were ecstatic and they were dropping hints that it was now or never for me, that if I didn’t accept his proposal, I might never get another opportunity.

What confidence they had in me.  And what a wonderful time it was for me; or, rather, what a wonderful time it should have been for me.  Let me explain.

There was something about Lawrence that never seemed to be “exactly” right.  I mean, he had a wonderful personality, an excellent physique, good looking in a rough sort of way, and a very sharp sense of humor.  What’s wrong with that?

Well, there was always something a bit secretive about him.  It was as if he was holding something back, but I could never put my finger on it.  So here I was awaiting Lawrence to come over on my birthday, and I had this awful premonition that something was wrong, that today of all days, I was going to learn something about my fiancée that could possibly ruin it all.

And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I felt this way.  Lawrence had never given any indication at all that something was wrong.  But as I was about to learn, unfortunately my premonition was right on target.

Lawrence walked in and I could see in his face something was askew.  I had never seen that look before and asked if he was OK.  He nodded he was fine, but he looked very, very serious.  My folks were in the room, and I asked if he wanted to go somewhere and have some privacy.

We went in the den.  I held his hand and told him I had this feeling from the moment I had awakened that something was terribly wrong with our relationship.  He simply looked at me and asked how I knew.  I just said I did and to please tell me with your words.  You see, at that moment I wasn’t at all sure what he was going to tell me, and I was kind of bluffing that I knew precisely what was wrong, when, in fact, I didn’t have a clue.

But he took the bait, sat on the edge of the loveseat and looked at me for a very, very long time before speaking.  Finally, he blurted out,  “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.  I’m leaving for New York in the morning.”

It was at that moment that I read his mind.  “It’s Marsha,” I said.  He nodded and asked how I knew since he had never mentioned her before.  “Honestly,” I replied, “I didn’t know until this very moment and I think I plucked her name out of your head.”

Well, our relationship ended right there.  I was devastated as were my folks.  So I’m out in the “singles world” again and surviving.  I don’t like it and would rather be settled down with a husband and kids, but at least I didn’t marry someone who was waiting for his old love to ask him to return.  Which is exactly what happened.

T. Wellison
London, England

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