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I’m Not Superstitious !?

Of course I'm not superstitious!  My fingers are crossed only because my hands are cold.

Of course I’m not superstitious.  My fingers are crossed only because my hands are cold!…

But how about you?

Hello – I’m a black cat.  Do you love me or do you fear me?

1.  BLACK CATS

Superstitions abound all over the world; not just about black cats, but about almost anything you can imagine.  But we will start with the much-maligned black cat.  

  • Edgar Allen Poe owned a black cat.  He was quite devoted to it, and often used a black cat in his writings.
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  • Black cats are are found liberally sprinkled throughout all kinds of literature, from the classics to modern day books, movies, television, blogs, and tweets.  One of my favorites is an old movie with Kim Novak as a witch and a sleek black cat as her familiar.
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  • In many cities, you cannot adopt a cat from a shelter during the month of October to protect the animals from mean or reckless Halloween pranks
  • Black cats are worshipped in India, believed to be good luck.
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  • It is considered good luck to have a black cat in your house as a pet, but if a different black cat crosses your path, it then brings bad luck.
  •  Witches are believed to have black cats as companions or “familiars.”  The cats are used to spy on people and to help cast spells.  Some witches have other animals as their familiars.  Crows and other black birds and fierce black dogs are not uncommon.
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Get me to the church on time!

2.     WEDDINGS “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue” is just one of many superstitions about weddings, as well as the bride tossing the bridal bouquet over her shoulder in the belief that the lucky flower catcher will herself get married within the year. Many others include:

  • Don’t get married in a leap year or on a Saturday.  Sunday marriages are destined for good fortune.
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  • Rain on the wedding day means very good luck pertaining to becoming wealthy in the future. 
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  • Oh, here’s a good one! If the bride looks at the groom through the wedding ring, he will always be faithful to her.  Divorce lawyers would cry into their beers if this were true!  Worth a try, though.
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  • Brides wear white to suggest that they are virgins.  The origin of this superstition comes from “the old days” when the bride BETTER be a virgin or else.  In arranged marriages, the father often “sold” his young daughters to the highest bidders based on their virginity and their attractiveness.  In modern times, the bride wears white in order to stand out from other females in the wedding.  For instance, the bridesmaids might wear the famous seafoam green gowns. It is not necessarily bad luck, but certainly bad taste, for another woman in the wedding party to wear white.  This is the bride’s day.
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  • 3. Funerals:

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  • The silliest one I can think of is “the good die young.” Some idiot made that up, and it stuck.  But obviously, age and good or evil natures do not apply to death.  I kind of wish that the BAD would die young.  Then, we might not have so many murderers and child molesters living to a ripe old age.
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    •  I like this one:  if you hear a clap of thunder just after the funeral, that sound is the deceased entering heaven. There are so many funeral superstitions from all over the world, so I can only mention some of the more interesting ones.
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    • Death comes in threes. This especially applies to celebrities. Whenever a famous person dies, everyone is waiting for the two other shoes to drop. And sure enough, it seems to happen, depending on how liberal your definition of “celebrity” is.
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    • Some people believe that birds are portents of death. For instance, if you see an owl during the daytime or hear an owl hoot, someone you know will die. If a wild bird flies into your house, yes, another portent of death. (Or a need to get window screens and keep the door closed.) If a bird sits on your window sill and looks in, it is looking for the one next to die. But if you keep a bird in the house as a pet, it is thought to bring good luck.
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    • If you are sitting or standing at a gravesite and a butterfly lights on your hands or shoulder, it is the deceased saying goodbye to you. (This actually happened to me, and I did not know what it meant.)
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    • I can’t find a decent picture of a ladder.  Please use your psychic powers to conjure one up. You can do it, see? ,
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  •  4. Ladders, walking under, “Oh, let’s go do that!…Maybe a hammer will fall on our heads or maybe we’ll step on a nail.” Common sense, where art thou? There are many more accidents caused by falling off a ladder than walking under them. And people get hurt all the time while trying to climb the ladder to success.
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    • Climbing the ladder to heaven is what farmers do, while their city cousins climb the famous stairway. Some people try levitation or astral projection to reach heaven without climbing anything. But if they actually got there, how does anybody know? I don’t want to bring politics into this, but I understand a person we all know and lo…,(off subject/lost focus) has a private military jet all pimped up for the job
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5.    Good luck and bad luck portents are too numerous to fit in a book, much less a blog. Here are some of them.

  • Good Luck:
  • Baseball: spit on your bat and you will make a home run.
  • See three butterflies in a row – good luck
  • Always wear new clothes on Easter for good luck all year.
  • If you go to a casino, put a nickel in your shoe and play the nickel slots before you do anything else.
  • It’s good luck to see a cow lift its right rear leg. Okay, let’s all go out and look for cows now. There should be some nearby. 
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  • Bad Luck:
  • When you move to a new home, buy a new broom. Bringing an old broom to a new place is bad luck. I think you need to leave your old dirt behind so you can create new dirt.
  • Don’t put hats on a bed.
  • Don’t open umbrellas inside the house. (unless it’s raining in there) Bad luck to hear a dog howling at night (especially if it’s your dog.
  • Get out of bed on the same side you got in or you will have bad luck.
  • Bad luck to give a pair of socks to your boyfriend or girlfriend – They will walk away from you.
  • If you see rings on any wood surface, you will get married within 6 months. (I’m not sure if that’s good luck or bad luck).
  • No singing and dancing, hear? If you sing before seven, you’ll cry at eleven.

  • 6. Triskaidekaphobes are those of us who fear Friday the 13th. I don’t, of course, and I’m sure that you don’t, either. Oh, but what fun it is to observe reactions to this unique day.  And this is one superstition where actual facts abound. Some are quite startling. Here are 13 such facts.
  • Many office buildings, high-rise apartment buildings and hotels have no 13th floor. They just skip from the 12th floor to 14th floor. Too many people would refuse to pay rent for anything on the 13th floor.
  • Lots of hospitals do not have any Room 13s. If you travel a lot, you may have noticed that most airports lack a Gate 13, and airplanes have no 13th row.
  • Many large shipping lines and cruise ships will not leave port on Friday the 13th. Friday the 13th is avoided for weddings, funerals, grand openings, and any large public event. It is blamed for floods, earthquakes, and other disasters. Consider Apollo 13.
  • Even large cities try not to have a 13th Street, and in many cases, house numbers will skip from12A, for example, to 14A. It is said that one city in Italy has a street denoted as 12 ½ th Street, but I have not been able to verify this.
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  • I must end this article, as I am yawning, and yawning is a sign of bad luck! However, I would like to thank http://www.corsinet.com-trivia for some of the information used in this post. It’s a great site with lots of unusual topics that are fun to explore.
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  • Bye for now from Sweet Nan (zzzz)

Postscript:

On a serious note, I have mentioned Brother Jim in the introduction and several subsequent posts.  Brother Jim is my real brother, and he has passed away.  His memorial service will be tomorrow at a church in Texas, and his funeral will be on December 9th, one day before his birthday would have been.  He was possibly the kindest man that ever lived. My Jimmy was a true prophet. He had a pipeline to heaven.  He knew and told me many things that I cannot share with anyone.  It is my hope that he will continue to communicate with me and provide the grace and guidance that he has given me for many years,  He was a Christian minister, and his congregation consisted of hundreds of devoted followers.  His ministry, The Steppingstones, will be carried on in his name.  My dear brother Jimmy, I will miss you terribly.

The Death of Me

PART  1
I knew I was going to die. I mean, going to die in a prescribed number of months and weeks, not like everybody knows they are going to die someday.

I told the doctors to give it to me straight. No hedging around, no false hopes, no patting me on the head and trying to make me feel better. They meant well, and they worried about me.

Little did they know that I regarded death as the ultimate adventure, the answer to all my questions, at last.  Of course, I had a little apprehension.  Who wouldn’t?  But for the most part, I wanted to KNOW!  It was exciting and wonderful to finally find out what happens after death.

All the stuff about a red devil in a fiery hell; angels on clouds and streets paved with gold; or that middle one they call purgatory. I always laugh at that – mentally picturing very small people sloshing around in coffee pots, confined there to percolate over their lives, what they did good and what they did bad.

And all that crap about religion. People have actually knocked on my door to inform me that I will burn in hell if I do not immediately attend their church, accept their idea of who to worship, make sizeable donations, and go door-to-door like they do. They call it “witnessing.” I call it meddling in other peoples’ business.

Churches aren’t the only ones who do this. Whole countries meddle. The United States will condone the behavior of missionaries who travel all over the world to tell people they will die and go to hell if they do not give up their current religion (whatever it may be) and become Christians. I dislike this for a multitude of reasons, not least among them that the missionaries often get arrested and jailed for their interference, and then our own military people must risk their lives trying to free them.

I consulted Wikipedia, and learned that the major religions of the world include:

  • Christians:     2,100,000,000
  • Muslims:        1,500,000.000
  • Of No Religion:   1,000,000,000
  • Hindus:  900,000,000
  • Chinese Folk Religionists:  400,000,000
  • Primal Religionists:   400,000,000
  • Buddhists:   375,000,000
  • Sikhs:  24,000,000
  • Jews:  14,500,000
  • Baha’is:  7,400,000
  • Jains:  4,300.000
  • Shintoists:   4,000,000
  • Taoism:  2,700,000
  • (Thank you to World Religions-Populations Pie Chart Statistics List at WWW.age-of-the-sage.org)

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT

Please forgive me for pausing. My caregiver just found me unconscious on the floor, and has helped make me more comfortable. I seem to be okay now, except for a very bad black eye. It has a strange hardness to it and looks very black and shiny. Doesn’t hurt, though.

I see I need to apologize for my more than necessary attention to religion, as religion is only a small part of the knowledge I seek during my death process. The actual numbers as related to reincarnation are staggering.

I am very ignorant about religion. When I was a teenager, I was engaged to marry a Catholic boy. I was told by his family that I must take Catholic Instruction and become a Catholic before they would permit us to marry. I dutifully trudged to instruction day after day, week after week, and tried to make my mind be a Catholic. Finally, a panel of priests called me into conference to inform me that I had too many questions, and that I had no faith, and therefore, would not be accepted into the Catholic religion.

I don’t know if all those tears were of laughter, sadness or relief. No overbearing mother-in-law, no pimply-faced teenaged husband, no long, boring church services, and the end of seeking after religion; for me, forever. Done. Settled.

I do know that of that long list of religions that I compiled before my face met the rug under the desk, that there is great conflict among the various worshipers. They all believe their own church is the only true one, and they will inherit the earth while everyone else goes to hell or elsewhere.

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT

That was a bad one, but I’m okay now. Let’s get to the exciting part! REINCARNATION!!!

To quote Fox Mulder, “I want to believe!” The idea that any of us have lived and died before is just mesmerizing to me. I might have been, and you might have been…

 A slave who helped build the pyramids and died of heatstroke
 A Scottish child who got lost on the moors
 A traveler who dined or was dined upon at Donner Pass
 A caveman or cavewoman who was buried alive in an earthquake
 An African woman who died of starvation during the birth of her 9th   child
 A fisherman among 160,000 who died in the 2010 Haiti earthquake
 A farm worker who drowned along with 4,000,000 others during 1931 floods in China

What happened to all these people after they died? Where did they go? Heaven? Hell? Another planet? Cold storage facility? There are millions of theories, books written (Remember Bridey Murphy?), prophecies, past life therapy sessions, personal accounts from people who claim to have died and come back to life; little children who “remember.”

Have they become ghosts? Animals? Some people swear their little dogs and cats are waiting for them in heaven. Presumably their fleas and worms, too?

If all of the gazillions of people who have lived and died on earth were reincarnated again and again, we wouldn’t have room for a flea, or anything else. I have to count on my fingers, so I don’t know how to put this in mathematical terms, but just think what the multiplication of people would be over time.

I like the idea of reincarnation. Always have. Always wanted someone to come up with even just one solid piece of proof. Since none is forthcoming, I will try to find that truth myself through keeping a record of my own death process.

Right now, I am having an aura, signaling one of my oncoming attacks. My vision is full of bright sparkles; I smell unidentified odd scents; my limbs feel rigid, and it is difficult to breathe. I will go lie down for a while, and will continue my story when I have rested.

 

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT
I am in a warm, totally dark place. Strangely enough, I can see, but I don’t know what I am seeing. There are strong smells that both attract and repel me. I can’t feel my body; just hard, scaly textures where my arms and legs should be. I hear the sounds of people talking softly, some crying and some laughing.

Perhaps I am in a coma, in a hospital bed. I no longer feel pain, but feel something I can only describe as the absence of life. I think I might have died, but I hear the voices of people around me.

NEW LOCATION: Coffin

“Well, at least we got a few dozen to attend. It was embarrassing, having to almost bribe people to come to her funeral.”
“You’re having a little gathering at your house after the service?”

“Yes, as her sister, I felt I had to take care of things. Nobody else wanted to. At least, she left me a sizable chunk of her fortune, so I can’t complain. She was not much of a writer, in my opinion, but she was a brilliant businesswoman, I’ll give her that.”

“I worked for her for 20 years, and she never gave me credit for anything. I shouldn’t speak ill, but she was cheap and mean, even though she tried to act like she had a million adoring fans and friends. I tried to be friendly, but when I asked her to lunch one day, she looked at me like I was a slave asking the queen to eat with him down at the garbage dump.”

“Well, it wasn’t just you. She was a vain, selfish woman, rude to everybody. I don’t know for sure, you know, but there is sort of a family story that she was going to be married when she was in her teens, but the young man’s parents didn’t want her in the family. It was then that she turned against the world. Well, let’s get her planted and get all this over with.”

Death at Last

 

 

So I heard my sister speaking to one of my employees, and I knew. I was dead, and I was in the coffin with the dead human body I was leaving behind. I had to get out of the coffin before they closed the lid and got on with the burial.

I seemed to be stuck there, wedged in a small slippery space with a tunnel on one end and an opening at the top. I wriggled and squirmed, and finally crawled out of what I vaguely knew was my own ear.

Human traits melted away from me as I quickly scrambled down the varnished side of the coffin. I saw that I was quite handsome, a glossy body about a half-inch long with two light brown stripes behind my head. I had thin, spikey legs, appendages that would someday become wings, and delicate antennae with which I could communicate with other cockroaches and sense the presence of food and water.

The great mystery of life, death, and reincarnation has now been solved. Since I can no longer speak, never mind type, I cannot communicate this great truth to you, as I had hoped. Besides, I sense a warm, dark, safe place nearby, and I must seek protection there while I recover from my rebirth.

BREAKING NEWS: A freak accident occurred Wednesday afternoon on Sharples Road, in front of the Eternal Living Cemetery. Evelyn Parish Meade was killed in a single vehicle car crash. She was just leaving the cemetery after the funeral of her sister, Charlotte Parish, the renowned author and publishing mogul. A cause for the accident could not be determined, but first responders said she was screaming about having something in her ear that would eat her brain. Apparently she was in a state of traumatic grief over the death of her sister, and was declared dead on arrival at Central City Hospital.

Author’s Note:

This story is fiction in its entirety, at least, as far as I know. Over a period of three weeks, this account of life, death and reincarnation was produced during several sessions of a process called Automatic Writing. It did require some spelling and grammar changes and a general clean-up, but the information contained is basically what was received.

From Sweet Nan:

Thank you for visiting Psychic Flashes.  Please come again.

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The Christmas Apprentice

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“Oh, hello Christmas.  Long time no see.”   I crawled out of my lounge chair to give him a hug.  I was not really surprised to see my old friend.  He had never failed in his visits, always bringing a word of comfort and friendly greetings. “I’ll get us a couple of hot buttered rums.  Was looking for an excuse to have one anyway.”

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“Oh, delicious idea.  It’s not been so long, though.  Only a year, remember?  I came to see you a week before Christmas last year, but I’m running behind schedule this season.  We have only three days before the big day this year.  How have you been feeling, my dear?

 

“Oh, all right for my age, I guess.  I was 75 in August, you know.  The arthritis makes it hard to get around as much as I’d like, but the pacemaker is keeping me going.  Do you want to know about my new support hose?  I am disappointed in their quality, considering their price.  I think the only thing they support is the bank account of the department store where I bought them.”

Laughing, Christmas said, “I always look forward to my visits with you.  Instead of asking for things, you always find a way to make me laugh.  But I look in your face and I see that you are tired, my dear.  I know that look because I am tired, too.”

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“Seventy-five years of being obnoxious will make anyone tired, you silly old goat!  But how can you be tired?  You are a spirit!  The Spirit of Christmas can’t get tired!”

“Oh, but we can, and I am.  I want very much to retire.”

Long silence.  “I am astonished!  Christmas retires?  What about all the little children?  What about all the people of the world who believe in you?”

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Christmas laughs again, his jolly voice booming in the small apartment.  “Surely you don’t think I am the only Spirit of Christmas?  There are many!  Can you really think just one person, uh, spirit, can do this enormous job?  The Santa/toys thing is just the tip of the iceberg, and people have made it so commercial, it has lost most of its meaning.  The real job is 365 days a year of providing comfort and cheer, and sometimes relief, to everyone.  That part of the job is still rewarding, but the sadness and pain one sees eventually wears the spirit out.  I have been serving humanity for only 580 years, but I have become…What is the phrase?…Oh, yes…Burned out.  There seems to be a significant amount of rum in this hot buttered.”

“You don’t just appear at Christmas?”

“Not at all, but it is the most difficult time of the year. People get so emotional, especially when I have to take someone away.”

“Take someone away?  As in death?  Don’t tell me you are the Spirit of Death!”  Long pause.  “Are you here tonight to take me away?”

“Now, don’t be upset with your old friend, my dear.  In fact, I have a job opening for you – A very good job with benefits you can’t even imagine.  I need your help.  I am asking you to come with me and be my assistant for a year.  I will show you the ropes, and after a year, you will be the Spirit of Christmas.”

“No.  No.  I don’t want to die.  I’m not ready.  I won’t come with you.”

“Look at your television screen for a minute, dear.  I want to show you where you will be in six months if you don’t come with me now.”  He patted her arm consolingly.

She couldn’t help but look.  Was this some kind of crazy You Tube trick he was pulling on her?  But, no.  There she was, sitting in a wheelchair, alone in a bleak room, eating something from a tray, but spilling most of it down her front.  She could barely see, and her body ached from head to toe.  She felt herself wet her pants.  “Oh, my God!”

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“You see?  We need each other.  I have chosen you to be my assistant for a number of reasons.  You have a sense of humor that will see you through the most difficult times.  You are basically kind and compassionate, and have honest, down-to-earth common sense.  You are somewhat irreverent, in the sense that you are not impressed at all by wealth or fame, and you know how to tell difficult people where they can go when they are wasting your time.”

I gazed at my old friend Christmas, partly in wonder, partly in horror, and with a generous portion of curiosity.  “Then, in fact, I would be Death.  I used to watch all those old movies, Death Takes a Holiday, that Twilight Zone one where Robert Redford posed as a policeman.  And the Meet Joe Black movie – it’s almost like this.  And the ghost stories.  All the ghost stories.  Am I dreaming a ghost story right now?”

He shook his head and smiled.  “You’re going to be just fine, you know.  You’re with me. Now go brush your teeth and get into your bed.  You won’t need to take your pain medication or your sleep medication tonight.  I’ve got you.”  He smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Can I call my daughter?”

“No, but I’ll be extra gentle with her.  It’s better this way.”

I shuffled away towards the bathroom.  The pain ruling every step was gradually turning into a pleasant floating sensation.

He looked at his hot buttered rum, which had gone cold.  “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

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All is well.  Good night and Merry Christmas from Sweet Nan.

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You Are the Ghost of Your Past

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As an adult today, I am really only the ghost of my past.  And so are you – Think about it!  You consist of elements of many things:  infancy, childhood, teen, young adult…and more.  You may have elements of past lives, in which you lived, hated or loved, and died.  But little pieces of all that rich matter still stick to you, whether you realize it or not. 

A lot of your past is easily recognizable, like your attitudes, habits, and physical appearance.  For instance, I always wanted light colored hair.  I must have cornered the market on bleaching products, and tried my best to turn dark brown into platinum.  Now I feel the same, but my hair has obligingly turned silver.  I feel very comfortable with that.  It is as it should be.  On the other hand, some elements are not as pleasing.  I have my mother’s arthritis and her heart problems.  And one day I looked down and was shocked to see my mother’s legs.

I believe I have lived before.  Recurrent dreams show me an old, dark, drafty house with lots of hallways and staircases.  I fear it, but at the same time, I recognize it as “home.”

Swamp House

 

I see photos of English countrysides that are wild and cold, and I know I lived in a drafty cabin and died there. baby-by-fireplace

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I can see the sunlight coming through the gaps in the rough walls in the daytime and can feel the cold wind coming through them at night.  I am cold, and I see a fireplace with a meager flame that needs to be fed.  In the corner is a cradle.  The infant in the cradle also needs to be fed, but I have nothing to give either one.  The child is too cold and sick to even cry.

 

I feel my lover brought me to this place from the city (London?) and left me and the infant here while he went to search for food.  He never returned.  I don’t know if he was killed or if he just abandoned me and went back to the city.  I see his face; I know him in this life.

Other memories:  Dancing in golden slippers to the delight of a room full of people;

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wearing a powdered wig that itched and smelled bad from lack of washing;

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writing day and night, not even stopping to sleep.

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Rescuing family members and friends in some type of space ship as the earth crumbled and fell to pieces.

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I don’t know where the wild imagination came from, but that last one has to be a fantasy.

Do you find yourself remembering things like this and wondering why they were familiar to you?  Do elements of your past rise up unexpectedly and hit you in the face?   Have you seen or met someone you are sure you know?  Don’t be afraid of memories.  Know that you are just beginning to store them up, and there will be many more.

You might think of yourself as a book being written.  Each chapter is a life you have lived.  The chapters may be very short, for instance, if you died in infancy.  Another chapter may be very long; you may have lived to a great age, and experienced many important and perhaps historical events.  You may have known Albert Einstein or Jesus.  You may have even walked upon another planet.  Think of the wisdom you have accumulated!

So, don’t fear your rich collection of memories.  Instead, try to connect with more of them, and use them to your benefit in your present life.

You may need to contact your spirit guide for help and guidance, but it is important to open up your psychic inbox, and allow these rich memories to enter your present world.

If you need help contacting your spirit guide, you may want to refer to the main menu of Psychic Flashes to read “Finding Your Spirit Guide.

I appreciate your favorable responses to the election post, “And the Next  President Is….Election Predictions from Top Psychics.”  I am glad so many of you enjoyed the different take on our crazy elections.  Thank you.yellow_bird_thumb.gif

Bye for now from Sweet Nan!yellow_birdthankyougraphics-17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, Yes. almost forgot! – Happy Halloween

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Valentine in the Mist

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Been alone too long.

It’s risky, I know.  But there are some good men on the Internet.  Good men looking for women my age.  Faded a little, but still pretty damn good looking.  Good enough to attract Lucas, a silver fox I can dream about.  Wonderful looking man, good manners, well educated, obviously.  Owns a house in Carmel by the Sea, a yacht named Valentine in the Mist, and runs his own public relations business.

Lucas says he can’t meet nice women because they’re all after his money.  Even as he laughed about that, I wondered how he could be so open and honest with me.

He sends me e-mails and texts and flowers.

  rosespinHe says he has actually known me for a long time, and he has adored me from afar for years and years.  What a romantic!   Nothing at all like my first husband, Walter.  Walter had money, old family money, but that was where the resemblance ended. Walter didn’t want me, he just wanted a baby machine.  He wanted sons to carry on the family name and the family estates and the family businesses.

Walter was old and looked old.  And acted old.  He even smelled old. When we were first married, he explained to me that most of his assets would be shared jointly with me until the first son was produced.  At that time, the assets would be shared between his son or sons and his family,  with a small share going to me upon his death.

I agreed this arrangement was perfectly fair and generous, and he entrusted me to deliver the document to his attorney.  Unfortunately, I was distracted and unable to complete this task.

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Everyone knew Walter had a bad heart.  So when he drank too much and had a heart attack and died in the hot tub, it was never questioned.  The only surprise to the family was that he had left everything to me.

I lived well for years.  Traveled.  Never had to work.  Vacation homes.  Maybe enjoyed my cocktail hours a little too much and became a little bit blowsy.  Getting a little low in the finance department now.  Never was much good at investments.

But that’s okay.  Lucas is my new valentine.  He says he adores me and we will be together always.  I have the table set for our Valentine’s day dinner, champagne chilling, candles lit.  Now just waiting for Lucas to ring my doorbell and be one with him forever and forever.

Everything is ready, but I must find the room freshener.  What is that odd, musty smell?

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Bye for now from Sweet Nan.  yellow_bird

 

The Celebrity Ghost of the Trailer Park

bbd0f8f548ff6940b324a524c5e05ecfWell, she was a feisty one, Linda.  I guess this where I have to admit that I live in a trailer park, and Linda lived next door to me.  I didn’t like her at all, and maybe that’s why she comes back to haunt me from time to time.

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Linda worked as a skater in the Ice Capades her whole adult life.  She was never what you would call a star.  She was more of a production skater.  She worked all the time in different routines and different productions, and apparently she did it well.  And she did it for many years, traveling all over the country, living in whatever accommodations were available, and worked long, long hours, learning new routines and practicing them.

Skating was all she lived for as a young girl, and she was a pretty blonde with stars in her eyes, and she was sure she  would be a headliner one day.   But it didn’t happen, and when she grew older, she didn’t know how to do anything else.

The physical and emotional toll it took on her was terrible.  Every bone and joint in her body had been beaten up so much over the years that arthritis and bad knees, ankles and back doesn’t even to begin to describe it.  Fairly early on, she turned to alcohol and pain pills to ease the pain and disappointment.  She was able to get away with that for a remarkably long time, until the day she just couldn’t even walk anymore and was also saddled with drug addiction.

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Linda was forced to retire on disability and a small pension.  She had managed to save some money, and with this, she bought a refurbished mobile home which happened to be located right in front of my trailer.  When I looked out my front door, I saw the back of her trailer lengthwise, with her bathroom window almost directly in line with my front door.   Linda had friends who lived in the trailer park, and they looked after her and checked on her pretty often.

She was able to walk a little bit with crutches, and one day I heard something in my front yard.  When I looked out, there was Linda, standing awkwardly on two crutches, cutting roses from my bushes and putting them into a basket.  I want outside and greeted her, asking how she was doing.  She said she was in pain all the time, and she knew I wouldn’t mind if she took some of my roses.  I assured her it was okay, and then she explained she had run out of coffee and asked to borrow some.  I assisted her back to her front door with the roses and enough coffee for a couple of days.

I learned that Linda was not at all shy about asking for things.  If she saw me preparing to get in my car to go somewhere, she would ask for a ride.  I would then have to wait for her and usually go out of my way to drop her off wherever she wanted to go.  If she saw my husband outside mowing our lawn, she would come over and ask if he would mow her lawn, too, when he was finished.

She came over and asked for cigarettes.  When I told her I didn’t smoke, she asked for money to buy some.  I had a patio table with an umbrella and chairs outside.  Sometimes I would look outside and she would be just sitting there.  She said to me, “Your patio furniture is old.  You need to buy some new stuff and put this furniture in my yard.”  If anything was left outside on the patio, garden tools, BBQ utensils, or even potted plants, they would disappear.

One day, she offered to sell me a little digital clock radio for $10.00.  I was astonished.  I had put that same clock radio in the trash because it no longer worked.  By this time, I knew Linda was heavily into drugs.  She was prescribed a lot of pain medication for legitimate reasons, but I’m sure she was supplementing that with street drugs.

I think everyone avoided Linda.  Her friends in the neighborhood checked on her less often.  She stayed inside her own trailer more.  I no longer saw her sitting out on my patio.

There came a day when I heard a great commotion outside.  Half a dozen people were gathered outside Linda’s bathroom window, shouting, “Are you in there, Linda?  Are you all right?”  They could not see inside the window; it was high off the ground.  Someone went to get a ladder.  Someone called the police.  They asked me if I had seen or heard anything, but I had not.

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Presently, the coroner arrived.  Linda was dead on her bathroom floor from a drug overdose.  She had been there for a couple of days.  A few weeks later, the trailer was hauled off to the junkyard, being too filthy for human habitation.  Before that, I did see some of the people who looked after her coming in and out, taking certain items with them.  The coroner had sealed the door, but someone broke it open, and people were in and out frequently.  I was glad when they finally took the trailer away.

I knew Linda was going to die.  I could see it in her eyes.  I was not what you would call kind to her, but maybe a little kinder than others.  I do not claim to have any special powers or abilities.  But I know I am very sensitive and have a vivid imagination.  I believe this combinations kicks in at times, like when sun and cold collide and produce thunderstorms.

When I experience this dynamic, I refer to it as my “knowings.”  It happens fairly often, and it happened this morning when I saw Linda sitting outside at my patio table.  She looked very much at home there..

lady on patioIsn’t that just my luck?  Why can’t I be haunted by George Clooney or Adrien Brody or at least someone interesting and friendly?

Bye for now from Sweet Nan

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