While I’m never surprised by words or images that pop into my head – it’s how spirit talks to me – I’m often amazed by the long-lost thoughts that pop out of my memory. Case in point: During a recent radio show, I was on the telephone with an American interviewer, and she asked how I “got into” being a psychic medium. I was about to tell her the story of the first time I had gone to a psychic for a reading – a terrible experience, which I recounted in my book Compassionate Messenger. But I paused on the phone, then suddenly recalled my first truly psychic experience: I was eight years old, so sick in bed with the flu that I thought I was going to die, and being surrounded by twelve angelic lights.
“That’s quite a story,” the host said, after I’d finished. “Did you really feel you were going to die?”
I laughed. “Well, I was a bit melodramatic when I was a little girl. But at that age, whenever I got sick, I got very sick. Fevers, aches, stuffy head, sore eyes, blotchy skin – you name it. Even my mother used to say,” and here I imitated her voice, “‘Carolyn, when you get sick, you get really sick.’”
The radio host and I shared another laugh, and then we had to break for local news, weather and a traffic report. As I sat back in my chair and half-listened to talk of cold fronts and tangled highways, my mind went back to one morning, so long ago, when my head felt so hot and heavy I thought my brain was melting.
My mother took my temperature and told me I wouldn’t be going to school that day. I offered a silent Thank you! prayer, and went upstairs to my room while my two sisters, envious because they had to trudge off to another day of A’s and B’s, pretended I had the cooties.
Later, my mother prepared lunch – alphabet soup, Wonder Bread toast and a glass of milk. My stomach was too queasy for food, so I trudged back to my bed. I tried to sleep, but I was so achy and tired, I just lay like a log and stared at the purple curtains that shaded my windows from the afternoon sun. Even the Auggie Doggie and Holly Hobbie pictures on the wall seemed sad. It hurt to keep my eyes open.
I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest just like I saw dead people do when they were in coffins in the movies. Then I said – probably in my most theatrical voice – “God, I feel so awful! Just let me die!”
My bedroom door opened, and snapped shut. Whoosh-click! I watched the door crack open about six inches, then gently close. And again. Whoosh-click, whoosh-click, whoosh-click. Why was this happening? Oddly enough, I was more curious than afraid. The windows were closed, so there was no breeze in the room. My mother was downstairs, probably ironing. My room was quieter than a tomb, except for the door opening and closing.
I lay my head back on the pillow. Each time the door opened, I had the sense of a tall light gliding into the room. I couldn’t physically see these lights, but in my mind I imagined they were slender white columns that thinned to a point just below the ceiling. I counted the door opening 12 times. I felt 12 of these light beings gathered around my bed.
My head didn’t hurt so much anymore. I felt drowsy, and drifted into sleep knowing that I was surrounded by something special.
I slept about four hours and when I awoke, I felt 100 percent better – no head cold, fever or chills. Interestingly, I felt refreshed yet tired, the same kind of feeling I get now after an invigorating run.
I didn’t tell this experience to my family or friends, because I didn’t think they’d understand, and I was afraid of being ridiculed. I already had a reputation for the dramatic. So mum was the word when mom asked me later how I was feeling.
“Okay,” I warily answered. And after another good night’s sleep, I went back to school.
“We’re back with Toronto psychic medium Carolyn Molnar,” the announcer said, and I snapped out of my reverie. “So, before we take more phone calls from listeners, tell me – what’s your favourite part about being a psychic medium?”
I smiled. “Knowing that I’m surrounded by spirit. Now, and all through my life.”
If you have any questions or comments on this subject or on any other spiritual matter, feel free to write me at firstname.lastname@example.org. And please visit me again!