Here is a story from one of our readers

When I was twenty and on the eve of going to Bern, Switzerland, for a year's work experience my parents took me and my younger brother and sister for Sunday lunch at their Golf Club. There, as we passed through the bar to the dining room, my eyes met those of a man seated on a bar stool with a drink in his hand. I hadn't seen him before and didn't expect to see him again. But I remembered his eyes and the feeling I had as they met mine. I saw them again most unexpectedly soon after returning from Bern, when my mother asked me to accompany her to the Club while she collected stuff from her locker for an away match the next day. As a non-golfer I was almost allergic to golf clubs and, having been helping in the garden all afternoon, was not in a fit state to be seen. But I went along to keep her company on the strict understanding that I wouldn't need to leave the car ... However, while mother was inside I remembered a business call that had to be made before 5 o'clock - and it was now 4.45! Recalling that there was a pay phone in the Club's lobby, I headed in its direction - bumping headlong on the threshold into that man! Well, within a year - despite his golf habit - we were husband and wife. He was twice my age on our wedding day; not that this worried either of us. We settled into married life and from time to time he mentioned his great grandmother - Gypsy Lee, the Romany 'queen', who before her death in 1933, read palms for royalty. He said he'd never forget her funeral procession in Farnborough, Kent, attended by six hundred gypsies from around the country. He also said that my eyes reminded him of hers! It turned out that her funeral hearse, drawn by six black horses, had passed right by the hospital where I was born in 1940. Not that there was anything extraordinary about this. However, for years and years I had had a recurring dream in which I was standing in front of my own - very elaborate - gravestone. I had been alarmed in the beginning but by the time of our marriage I'd long ceased to be bothered. My dream and I were quite simply interlinked and I knew the gravestone as intimately as if I'd seen it in reality! Then one day, as we were driving through Farnborough, my husband suggested visiting his great-grandmother's grave. This we did and upon sight of it I almost fainted - for it was 'mine'! From the tall pillars at the sides and the two hands entwined to the rosebuds sculpted in stone ... it was the very gravestone I had dreamed of so often. What a shock - and yet it wasn't at all shocking. It seemed to make a curious kind of sense ... and from that day to this I haven't dreamed my dream again!

© P.G. Glynn

About the Author

I am a published (hardback) author on a spiritual path along which I've made many wonderful discoveries that I now love sharing with my many readers. If you enjoy this article I guarantee that you'll enjoy THE PORTRAIT, a love story across time, that can be accessed via the link

 

 

 

 

 

Letter from a stranger

Last Monday morning whilst washing the dishes at the sink, I looked up at the window and noticed the letter ‘S’ staring down on me.

I thought it strange and wondered who had written it; I am the only family member who works at the sink. I told myself that it wasn’t there last night, how did it get there?

I never mentioned this to my husband, and we went out shopping to the local market.

It was a tense morning as our daughter-in-law was expecting her second baby by caesarean and we were obviously concerned. Luckily enough before we reached home my son rang our mobile and said that mother and baby were fine, it was a 7lb 10oz girl, and they were going to name her Stella.

We were over the moon, another baby girl; we already had three, one being born only weeks ago to our daughter. There was a busy time ahead.

We rushed home and I prepared lunch before going along to the hospital.

Forgetting all about what I had seen in the window that morning it once again caught me by surprise.

I then realised that the ‘S’ stood for our little granddaughter Stella. I am still puzzled how it got there. We have so many spirits in our house I assume it was one of them letting us know that Stella was on her way and that she was safe. My husband is now convinced that there is such a thing as ghosts.

Above is a photo of the ‘S’ written on our window.

Jennifer - Epping, England

 

 

 

 

Tea for three

I lived in an old renovated bungalow at Clacton-on-sea with my husband John. My girlfriend Jackie came to visit me one winter’s afternoon. We were quiet relaxed eating cake and biscuits at the kitchen table when Jackie’s face looked in horror. She saw a figure of an old lady pass behind me. She even described her clothing to me. We were both in a panic, and tried to find her. There were no signs of the mysterious lady.

Up till that moment I had enjoyed living in the bungalow; I have since then moved. I later found out that there had been an old lady living there who fitted Jackie's description. Perhaps she was upset seeing us sitting in her kitchen.

Isabel - Cold Christmas, England

Don't you think it strange that all the time Isobel and her family lived in the bungalow nobody had seen the old female spirit before. Why had her friend seen it that day? someone who had never encountered a spirit before.

 

 

One for the road

One wet and dreary October evening, I was driving down a disused back street on my way to a dart’s match in North London when an elderly woman appeared from nowhere and landed on the side of my bonnet. I slammed on my breaks, and jumped out of the car. I was quite shook up fearing the worst, but there was no sign of the old woman. The rain was pouring down and I ran up and down the road expecting to see her lying on the ground, but I couldn’t find her. When I reached the pub, the Landlord gave a smile. ‘So she got you as well.’ Apparently her spirit has been witnessed by many drivers. She was recreating her terrible fatal accident over and over again. I needed a large scotch for my trembling hands.

Jim Harris, Tottenham, London, England

 

 

 

 

A ghost in the ward

                                   

After recovering from an appendicitis operation it was the first time I had left the bed to go to the toilet. The hospital was the old Prince of Wales, South Tottenham. As I entered the ancient hallway the room seemed to disappear in front of me and I could feel myself falling. I felt two hands support me and position me upright. I turned to say thank you to the person behind, but there was no one there. Even today, ten years later I can still remember the feeling of those hands wrapped around me. I am thankful to what ever it was; it stopped me from injuring myself further.

Alice Freeman, Somerset, England

 

 

Further true stories

 

The founders of spiritualism - Fox Sisters

Boy from a past life

Helen Duncan - medium, persecuted by authorities

The Long Dead Soldier - article by T.Stokes

The Genie in the Bottle - article by T.Stokes

Nadine Ward Story

Lizzie Borden - axed her parents

Black carriage of Enfield, England

Waltham Abbey, England

Matthew Manning - medium, healer

Doris Stokes - psychic medium

 

 

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  http://www.pglynn.co.uk and DUSTY'S JOURNEY, a baby bird's spiritual adventure available at: http://www.dustysjourney.com Article supplied from www.goarticles.com

Proof of Reincarnation? by P.G. Glynn

Whenever I am in a strange town I try to visit the local spiritualist church, and the recent event I wish to describe here occurred when I arrived way too early for the service, and so just sat relaxing and gathering my thoughts, in order to focus spiritually.

Suddenly I felt myself being taken into very deep meditation, in which I saw a close group of misty spirit people waiting for the service to start some distance away, and one introduced the others. But slightly separate to this group was a small child, who as I strained to see. He then ran towards me, and I could see quite plainly this young boy had callipers on his legs. He put up his arms to me and I picked him up. He had slightly crossed eyes and his teeth seemed too big for his mouth; I realized that this boy would be what we now call physically retarded and perhaps low I.Q, and had died young.

As I held him he looked into my face and said he had been waiting so long for someone to come for him, and was I his daddy? I said I was not and he asked if I could then be a daddy to him.

Adults love with conditions, but children and animals especially dogs love no matter what, and the love that I felt with this handicapped boy was incredible, we chatted and I felt a depth of warmth and unconditional love I had rarely felt before. Men have to be careful with showing affection to children but I bent his head forward and kissed him on top of the head, and he giggled and struggled to be put down. He wandered off with the peculiar walk of his wasted legs held up with the callipers, and I said come and see me again sometime,
it was only then that I realized sitting quietly in the Church, that the tears were streaming down my face.

Over the next few days I found it difficult to speak of what had occurred, I had been emotionally overwhelmed, but this rejected and abandoned child had given me the precious gift of acceptance and warmth that had helped me so much. Whoever this child was had taught me that teachers come in various guises. As Harry Edwards once told me, “often when we least expect them”
I was taught a lesson in love, humility warmth and spirituality I can’t forget.

T. Stokes - Paranormal Lecturer