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Friday, November 21, 2008

Living amongst psychics

Not long after our move from Puerto Rico, back in April, we settled into a rented condo in the Tampa Bay area of Florida in a little town called Safety Harbor. On the third Friday of every month Safety Harbor blocks off Main Street to auto traffic so sidewalk vendors can open their little portable shops to locals and tourists. The town brings in live music with various bands playing at "The Gazebo" to attentive crowds of listeners whose favorite tunes come out of the 60s and 70s. It was on our first trek to a Third Friday event that we met Caryl, a popular local psychic who had a little spot on the street where she advertised readings. Through Caryl we met Carolene, a retired RN with a genuine psychic gift who practices regression and spirit releasement therapies, among others.

Early one afternoon I received a phone call from Carolene that started with a question. How soon after a person dies are you able to get in touch with them? she asked. When I explained that I could be in contact anytime between just before death, through the event and immediately afterward she asked if I would help her with a close friend who had just very recently died. I will call him Paul. He had died about twelve hours earlier and perhaps due to her closeness to Paul she couldn't seem to get in touch with him. But something felt terribly wrong. I asked for his full name and told Carolene I would check on him and phone her back.

I later was told that since early childhood Paul had lived with his parents and siblings, Carolene's next door neighbors, and through the years of his growing up she had become a sort of second mom. Grown now and in his twenties, Paul had moved to Arizona where he and his wife were raising their two children. After both arriving home from work, the night before Carolene called me, Paul had insisted to his wife that he would be the one to go, by himself, to pick up the kids at daycare. He left after dark and died before he made it to the daycare center.

Construction on the freeway Paul drove to the daycare center that night had caused those portable concrete barriers to be put in place to divert nighttime traffic to alternate lanes. Evidently there wasn't much signage and no extra lighting was set up warning of the sudden lane change ahead. As I tuned in to Paul, intending to join his experience at a point just before his death, it felt like I was moving forward through blackness at high speed. There was a sudden sense of panic and that something in front of me didn't belong there. I felt an instinctive reaction to swerve to avoid hitting whatever was in front of me, and then an immediate feeling that this snap decision had been a big mistake. I felt I would've been better off to hit whatever it was that I first sensed was in front of me. I hit something solid and felt myself being lifted up, in an uncontrollable slide, and then flipped over. I felt disoriented and a sense of heat. At that point I decided to withdraw from Paul's experience to get an outside perspective.

I sensed the car had landed resting on its top and as I reached out to sense the situation the passenger area of the car was engulfed in flame. I felt certain Paul was still in the car and I got down on my hands and knees looking inside the car and called out his name several times. There was no response. I began moving around the car, down low, calling his name more loudly. Still no response. I sensed that he had been pinned in the car after it landed and had been conscious as it caught fire and began burning his body. He struggle to get free but it was useless. He was stuck in the pain and terror of that moment. I reached inside with both hands, groping around until I found him, and was yelling his name, trying to pull his attention away from the situation, as I pulled him clear through the driver's side window. His body was badly burned and he was incoherent. I dragged him off to a flat area where he was lying on his back. I was talking to him, explaining who I was and telling him that Carolene had sent me. At that point I felt her presence, she moved in close and took control. From there on out just observed.

As Caroline starting working on him and talking to Paul the burning car and the rest of that scene faded into the blackness and I found myself standing in a room in Carolene's house. Paul was lying on his back, a small table, and she was talking to him. As I continued observing he was retrieved.

When I called her to pass along what I found Carolene confirmed that Paul had died in a fiery car crash on the freeway in Arizona. She also confirmed that she had found me at he scene of the accident with Paul, moved in to take over, and then taken him to the therapy run in her home. The next day the family members in Arizona drove the route Paul had been on and confirmed the poorly marked traffic lane diversion at the scene of the accident. Several days after Paul's retrieval his young children began receiving visits from him which they described their mother. Last I heard these visits continue in Paul is doing much better.

Life amongst the psychics and healers in our new life here in Florida is like coming home. I am thoroughly enjoying interaction with people whose everyday lives have events like described above as pretty ordinary events. In the Spring we plan to start looking at homes with an eye toward purchasing a place of our own. It's nice to feel at home.


Posted by Bruce Moen at 11:23 AM