I have always been psychic since I was a little girl. (I think being part Native American has something to do with it. It seems Native Americans are historically known to be "natural sensitives". I think it is because their instincts have been honed to not only forces in our natural world, but cosmic forces as well...for survival purposes. Modern culture has ignored all these influences. Native Americans never stopped "listening", so their skills are more acute?) It seems my family is "sensitive" too, in that way, especially my mom, brother, niece and daughter. They seem to be extraordinarily psychically linked.
Most of my psychic episodes as a young girl consisted of
repeated instances of prophetic dreams and
intuitions/premonitions/predictions. When I was little, I would dream the entire day to come. In grade school, imagine the tedium of doing those days twice, once at night via a dream, then again in reality the next day. (I would say that this is still so. I still dream the day to come the night before, very frequently.) It's seems my dreams are often "nearly" what will happen, if they aren't dead on. My experiences with the paranormal were myriad, however, right from the "get go". When I was eight, my Grandfather, "Pops" had just passed away, and a few weeks later, I was terribly sick with bronchitis. In the middle of the night I awoke to see his upper half, white and whispy and transparent, hovering over my bed with a terribly worried expression on his face.
(Corey Bone Shepard, my Paternal Grandfather ... we always thought he looked like Bing Crosby)...
When I was in junior high school, I dreamed a girl was pregnant. She was a very nice girl, and all my friends thought I was mean for repeating my dream. I thought, "Well, that was mean, she's not like that." TWO YEARS LATER, however, she did get pregnant, when we were in high school. When I was a sophomore, I had a weasely little pack of wieners harassing me all the time in class. One day, a concave chested little git who always bothered me was just hounding me for like hours at a pop. I was very shy in high school and hardly ever spoke. All of a sudden, I turned to him, looked him dead in the eye, and without a word, began shouting the phrase, "SHUT THE (*&$#)%(*&# UP!" over and over in my head, as loud as I could think it. I didn't say a word. After about a minute, all of a sudden, he just...well, shut the @_)(#*$ up. I turned around back in my chair, and smiled. Right after graduation, my high school boyfriend, who was excessively chock-full o' ESP himself, and I went to see the "Amazing Kreskin" at a local University symposium. When Kreskin began to take impressions from the audience, he said, "I am getting the initials MLS and ..." (won't give my old beau's initials) "...who is that?" My high school boyfriend stood up, he had been "thinking" our initials at Kreskin and Kreskin picked it up out of the air. When I was 20, I had just moved away from home. I had a horrible dream that my father was shot and killed. It was so real, that I woke up thinking that we'd have to arrange for his funeral, etc. Then reality set in, and I realized I'd dreamt it. A little later that morning, my Mom called. The night before, it seems my Father had had emergency heart surgery. They had stopped his heart for a sec'. So I dreamed something life threatening was happening to my Father, I just was off a bit.
One time, I was driving down the freeway, when it hit me...I knew Aaron was having an affair with Dawn, a good friend of mine. I called him when I got home. It was true. (Unfortunate that some people seemingly have no moral compass, whatsoever. Oh, well, that's their bad karma, and not my problem, luckily! "You reap what you sow", and all that... :)
Later that year, I played around with astral projection, meditating on a white candle while placing myself in my college boyfriend, Aaron's apartment, mentally. (We were broken up by that time -- see above.) Years later, I asked, "Hey, whatever happened with that apartment you had on Miller?" He goes, "Oh, man, I had to MOVE. You were haunting me in there!" I was like, "Wow! I wasn't sure if that worked, or not?"
However, after the death of my sister, Jean, an Architect, of cancer in 1986, (when she was only 38), I somehow...seem to have crossed halfway between this world and the next with her, in all my grief. My interest in the paranormal grew as my clairvoyance and clair audience seemed to grow over the last few years. One might say I've always been a natural, "sensitive".
Now, though, that my sister is on the other side, the line between this
world in the next...well, has become pretty blurry.
As my psychic experiences seemed increase dramatically beginning after my sister's death, it was then I first started seeing physical
manifestations of ghost activity. Beginning especially around 1990, my
psychic experiences took on a new depth or power, as I became incredibly
clean: freelancing, vegan, no caffeine, no alcohol, celibate. It is
like I became clear or "clair" and then I could see, "voyant" at that
time. Fortunately, although intermittent, and even though I am not as
clear as I was in 1990, I still have the gifts from that time frame,
like I stepped onto another plateau.
Things started happening that were just "different". For instance, I
started having "visions", in a sense. I don’t know what to call them.
They looked exactly like "Princess Leah’s" hologram in the first STAR
WARS? I can assure you I was fully awake, and not dreaming when these came
to me. The first was a terrible
slumlord I had when I lived in Deep Ellum, who came to me one evening in
one of these "holograms", and said, "I’m going to take your home away
from you." I said to the hologram of him, "No, you’re not." He said,
evilly, "Yes, I am." Then his image zapped out. The next day I had a
nasty letter from him about how he was selling the property dropped in
my mailbox. He was selling the property. We did move.
A couple of years later, I was lying in bed, and my
college boyfriend, Aaron, zapped in holographically and said, "Your place is here with
me." I said to the hologram, "I will never leave Texas." (He's a "yankee";) I turned over and ignored it. His image
zapped out. That was the year he started thinking about getting married.
When Madison was in
first grade, I was sitting at my desk in broad daylight at work one
afternoon, when the image of her came to me in a small floating oval
with flames all around it. The flaming image showed me that she was flunking her TAAS
test because she was just filling in the little black test dots,
willy-nilly, as they made a pretty pattern. Alarmed, I called the
school, and made them pull her out of the test, talk to her about
filling in the blanks properly. They did, and then sent her back into the testing
room. She only flunked the portion of the TAAS where she was goofing
around, filling in the blanks, willy-nilly. The rest, the portion she took
seriously she did well on, then she passed the TAAS test and was able to go to the next grade level in school.
As the Nineties progressed, my
clairaudience became stronger. I could pick up words, thoughts,
nuances from the...very air, it seemed. For instance, Madison and I have
always been strongly linked. Even when she was a toddler, we’d
communicate in a partially spoken, partially clairaudient fashion as
such: Me: (thinking to self), "We should stop on the way from school
and work and get peanut butter. We’re out of peanut butter." Madison:
(aloud), "Where are we stopping for peanut butter, Mommy?" (Madison
spoke in sentences at six months old. She walked at nine months old. She could read logos, give excellent directions to places by about 18 months old. She was always real, "Little Man Tate", to begin with. On top of that, she was fairly clairaudient, herself, it seemed.)
Even my niece whom I share a
July 12th birthday with, and I have an uncommon bond. The afternoon of my sister Jean’s funeral,
I was reading Sarah a story on her bed. Sarah was about three years old at this time. Sarah looked at
me mischievously, poked her index finger into me a couple of times and said, "Your BOOBIES are
really big, and you’ve got a BABY in there." I said, emphatically, "I
do NOT!" To which she looked at me knowingly, elfishly, and said, "You do,
too!" then she poked me again for good measure in the belly, "YOU'VE
got a BABY in there." Sure enough, I was six weeks pregnant with
Madison!
I was at a dinner party with my friend Fran, and at one point in the evening, I turned to her and said, "I’d like to be friends with Vicky, but I keep getting the words…’Angry’ or ‘Anger'". Is she angry
with me?" Fran drew back, and said, "Molly, she said just Saturday
she wasn’t sure if she could be friends with you due to unresolved
anger issues."
Seems I still have the knack. Just recently, I was at a kid’s party with
Madison, and I kept getting the word, "Doctor." Finally, I had to
restrain myself from asking the hostess, "Tell me, is your husband a
DOCTOR?" When suddenly, she blurted out to me, "You know my husband and
I met in college, when we were both getting our DOCTORATES."
When I was first dating Kirk, he was telling me, when I met him for brunch one day,
"Our family relocated to Texas from Jersey in…oh, 1980." I said, "No, it wasn’t, it was 1978." (This was only our second or
third date. We’d shared no secrets.) He
thought for a moment, shook his head and said, "That’s true! How did
you do that?" I said, "I told you I am psychic, on occasion. It was a
snap. Numbers seem to come to me very easily." (I seem to be able to
guess dates for some odd reason. One time a boss of mine had said, "Guess how many emails I have in my "In" box this morning. I was not looking at his monitor or anything, but I shrugged and said, "Okay. 72." Freakishly, he said, "Yeah, that's right." I was like, "Cool.") Later on, Kirk broke up when he called me, breaking a date, saying he had to work. I couldn't sit still after he called, the word "Lie" kept coming to me. I called him up 15 minutes later and said, "Are you are lying to me?" "Yes," he admitted sheepishly. "Barbie called me, she wants to meet me after work for a drink, to see if we can patch things back up. I'm sorry." I said, "It's okay, I understand. But...why would you try to lie to me, when you know I'll know it clairvoyantly?" He sighed and said, "I know. I'm sorry." (Morally bankrupt. Overdrawn in the ol' karmic bank account, poor fella'. Really sad. But that's not about me, that's all about him. Whatever he does to other people will be done to him, threefold. Whatever he does wrong here, he'll have to look at in the afterlife. I'm glad I'm not him!)
It seems the longer I know a person, the
better I can read them. Take my friend "M&M", for instance. I
went to college with her. So, I've known her like twenty years, now. One day, about 1993, I was over at her house,
and we were standing, talking face-to-face about some nonsense. I said in a complete non sequitur, "So. How is Mike,
anyway?" "M&M" gasped and said, "How did you know I was
thinking about him?" "I dunno’", I said, "I can hear what you’re
thinking." It was as if the words, "Michael S." were rolling across her forehead on a ticker tape, and I could see/hear her thinking about him. As if the frontal part of her lobe was emitting that thought in the form of electricity, and I could almost "taste" it?
It’s just like that time I was at a womyn's wilderness
thingy with my friend Frances, and some of her neo-hippy-chyk type pals. We were "praying" around
this table, each person saying a prayer? Well each prayer became more self-serving than the last as each person had their turn. When it came
my turn, I turned to the lady at the end of the table, who had not yet spoken, and I said,
"It’s as though you have the words ‘CANCER’, written on your forehead in
big, black marker. I pray for your healing." The woman, whom I had
never met before, suddenly began sobbing. It seemed she had just
recovered from brain cancer and was in remission.
Sometimes, Madison and I dream together. When our friend Brook died, a few weeks later, Madison said, "Mommy, Brook came to me in a dream last night, floating on a cloud. He told me, 'Goodbye'." It was strange to me, because that same night, I dreamed him in floating in a gray fog, and he was...swimming, sort of. The dream was extremely brief, but memorable. He turned and whispered sadly, grimly to me, "Good-Bye." Then I woke up.
Once, when we were in rehearsal for one of the plays I had written, which was being produced in Fort Worth, we were deep in the basement rehearsal space, and one of our actresses was late to rehearsal. A terrible storm was going on outside. Suddenly, I knew that she was locked out of the theatre. "C", I said to the director, "she's locked out, outside. I just know it, go check, go check." We couldn't hear any noises, in the bowells of the theatre. "C" finally went and looked, sure enough, the actress was standing at the door I told him to go to, dripping wet. "What are you, the amazing Kreskin?" he asked. "I told you I just knew things," I said. He shook his head, being the type that doesn't normally believe in mumbo-jumbo. I had seen her in my head, standing in the rain, locked outside of the theatre, and she had been right where I said she was.
Recently, I dreamed I was published without permission on one of my works. The next day, I discovered it was so.
I think, somehow, that it is electrical. For instance, when I put my
hand on a TV or Radio, the reception goes from static to clear. When I
remove my hand, the static returns to the machine. Maybe the electricity I put out from my
heart, my brain, is stronger than most. I don’t know. I think
thoughts are electrical impulses in the brain. Our hearts are electrical. Our brains emit electricity, too. Perhaps I "hear" them, I
sense their electricity. Definitely, spirits can communicate using
electricity. The soul being energy, energy becoming electricity, after all. I mean, what do you
think?
Below are a number of ghost stories I've collected over the
years. Enjoy!
With Love,
Aunt Molly