Friday, November 2, 2012

Welcome Home!

Only last night at a dinner party with some old friends, my friend Beatrice told me how, when at 17 her mom (following a divorce from her husgand, Bea’s father, quickly decided to move the three of them, Bea, Marjorie, and herself, to France, to the house where her mom’s family had lived for four generations (late 1880s) she woke one night, unhappy to have been snatched from her California life, and sulking, though she loved her grandparents. In her room a party was going on, and she felt kisses on her face. Waking, she realized it was all her family who had died, all welcoming her to this house in the French countryside, all so happy she had come, and welcoming her as one of them. From then on, she loved the house, the area, the new life.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

A story from Joann Ware: read her "Dreaming Together Until Morning."

From Joann Ware: Sometimes my dreams have taken on a slightly psychic bent. One night in May 1998, I dreamed about my grandmother, who had died the previous February. She told me, “Frank Sinatra was up here singing for us last night and it was just grand!” I was puzzled and said, “But Frank Sinatra isn’t dead.” She replied solemnly, “Oh yes he is, child. He died yesterday.” When I turned on the TV the next morning, I heard Katie Couric announce, “Today the world mourns entertainer Francis Albert Sinatra, who died yesterday at the age of 82.”
Anyone who's following this blog, please send me so-called paranormal stories that happened to you or to someone you know.
...that phrase came into my mind, and I knew it applied to him as well as the robe. He'd been a devoted Christian all his life, and "re-accepted" Jesus as his personal Savior from a wonderful evangelist I'd known as a real rascal from college. I was briefly surprised at how young he was; but mature. Then I was standing right in front of him and could feel his hands lightly holding the backs of my upper arms. We looked into each other's eyes and I heard the word "brother" but I noticed his lips didn't move. Then the scene became dim--I was just behind the right side of a concave line of maybe a dozen people, wearing robes and Lawrence of Arabia-type head coverings. Dad was in front of the middle of the line, and someone stepped up behind him and put a similar article on his head. I knew he was now complete, and I found myself again lying on my bed. A few minutes later my brother-in-law called and told me Dad had died. This "earthly" verification of what I already knew sent me into a crying fit. Eventually it tapered off, and in the early pre-dawn light a simple rectangular representation of a face appeared on the ceiling: horizontal lines for eyes and mouth, and a triangle in the middle. Everything but the triangle faded out. I thought to myself "I don't understand," and the face came back. It faded again, and this time I said out loud, "I still don't get it!" A voice in my head said "Blow your nose." That was what the triangle represented. I blew my nose and smelled a marvelous aroma, strong and throughout the house. I wish I had remembered the smell every few days or so, so that I could remember it now like the way I can remember how a rose smells
From a friend named Toly: Dad had lung cancer from a collapsed lung from a fall--he never went to a doctor and didn't know he was in trouble. As he was in no pain--ever--he told the doc he missed his wife and had some questions for God about Newton's second law. I was supposed to bring some friends to Bartlesvile who'd flown into Tulsa that night. It was said he'd last another week or two, but based on things that happened to him in his 30s he could've walked outta the hospital if he wanted to. For some reason I tidied up my house and then went to sleep lying on my back on the bed. At 4:45am on Feb. 28, '78, I saw a large brilliant--but not shiny--gold oval in front and above me. Through that my father stepped, in a white robe brighter than anything possible on earth but not dazzling. The Biblical phrase "without spot or blemish"

Saturday, October 1, 2011

A great story from my new friend, Joanne Ware: Not a problem at all, Katie. I've attached a word doc of the column.

That wasn't the first time I had a "psychic" dream involving my grandmother. We were extremely close. She loved Princess Diana and used to ask me to buy magazines with Diana on the cover. When Diana died, I had never seen my grandmother so upset. She told me, "I've lived through The Great Depression, two World Wars and the assassination of a president, but I've never seen anything as sad as Diana's funeral." In October 1997, about six weeks after Diana died, I had a dream that Diana appeared at my bedside. She told me that in four months time, something would happen to my family. She couldn't tell me what it was then, but she wanted me to be prepared for a major shake-up. Four months later, my grandmother died.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Some folks have said some nice things about my new book, FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES
Are you one of the 3 out of 4 Americans who have seen, heard, felt, or intuited a ghost?
If so, my 21st book, FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES, is the book for you! Get it on Amazon for 14.95, or get it for your Kindle or Nook for 9.95. In it, I explain how I moved, twenty years ago, from total Atheism to belief in an Afterlife. Or order it from your local bookstore. Some things readers have said in the two weeks it’s been available:

I read it all the way through. It is extremely well written, very likely your best yet. Of course. knowing you for as long as I have, I could be suspected of a certain amount of bias in your favor --- the more so because I can’t share some of your basic assumptions. But the fact is that you’ve become so genuinely skilled a literary craftsman that the prose style carries me right along with you. Louis Rubin

I wonder if you realize how much you achieved in the writing of Friends in High Places. It is not a happy-go-lucky ghost hunt, as some blurbs suggest. Rather it's you really opening up, looking back and examining relationships, particularly the one with Royster. It's painful, but there it is. All this is subjective, of course, others might see it differently. But in the marketing of the book, it's my guess that if you or someone mentions the hard side, especially your attempts to contact your former husband, the book itself is more likely to receive the attention it deserves. As always, Ken

Hi girl: just finished reading Dr. Van Lommel's book about consciousness. Amazed at how much you wise ones have in are easier to understand (quantum phsics???) than the Dr.. I have asked my sweetheart Ellen to write her extra-conscious experience. Will gladly share it with you, maybe over a glass or two of spirits. Are you open to such a prospect? I feel almost compelled to pursue the broad subject with my people. Obviously our culture, and others around the world, have overlooked and ignored something that is of extreme importance. Don't stop communicating non-locally ! Love you Horace

What an honor that you dedicated the book to David's memory! Your subject was one of his passions, and I know that his spirit is singing like the mountain rivers.
"You can't judge a book by it's cover," but it helps! The cover design is beautiful! Your research is impressive; your experiential stories are fascinating, and well told. I like that you invite your readers from time to time to take practical steps to experience various paths that you have followed.
I was saddened to read about R. I only experienced him as a gracious host, and can only imagine how devastating your experiences have been. I believe that your openness about this will touch others, and help in ways you may never know. Love, Mary McKnight