Psychic
By
Scott Russell Hill
Contents:
Book Cover (Front) (Back)
Scan / Edit Notes
About The Author
Dedication
Acknowledgements
To The Reader
'Psychic'
1. Holidays
2. Barry
3. Tuning In
4. Over the Edge
5. The Rainforest
6. No Pain, No Gain
7. Experiences Shared
8. Psychic Protection
9. Country Roads
10. Return to Lake Bonney
11. Back Home
12. Close Encounter
13. What Goes Around ...
14. What Does Psychic Really Mean?
15. Overload
16. Spiritual Highs
17. Reincarnation
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Genera: Psychic
Extra's: Pictures Included
Copyright: 1997
Scanned: September 10th 2003
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-Salmun
Scott Russell Hill was born and raised in Adelaide. While his career began in journalism, radio and film, as a result of his spiritual experiences, he is now a leading authority on the paranormal.
For Yuri and Paul. Friends then, friends now, friends always.
Thank you to: Gilda, from Casa Di Gianni Restaurant at Glenelg, 'You've been writing that book all day. How about a steak or pasta?'; Kate, down the line, to the point; Willsy, generous, genuine, and the teller of great jokes; Teresa, 'When all else fails, open champagne!'; and Mum, who no matter what, always supports me!
I received hundreds of letters after the release of Caught Between Two Worlds. The response was quite overwhelming and it took me six months to gradually wade through the letters and reply to them.
Most gratifying to me is the fact that I've encouraged people to have a more open perspective of the spiritual. I've shown how important it is to believe in yourself and your own spiritual experiences, and not to be afraid of those experiences, and to never think you're going crazy.
Patricia from Oaklands Park in South Australia expressed similar sentiments in her letter.
I've just finished reading Caught Between Two Worlds. Thank you for writing this book and sharing your experiences with everybody. It's helped me not to be so scared of my experiences and to know that other people share these experiences and it's normal!
Your book has been a source of release and joy for me. I've always been fearful of sharing my experiences with people until now because there are those who'll think that I've flipped my lid.
Karen from Canes Beach in New South Wales wrote:
I felt compelled to write to you. It was recommended by a fellow psychic that I read your book. A week later a hair client recommended your book. The next day a student in my class handed your book to me to read. Well, I did and I'm spellbound!
And John from Loxton in my old stomping ground in the South Australian Riverland wrote:
I bought your book and read it. I then had to go back and buy another two copies for my friends. I don't really know what was so powerful about Caught Between Two Worlds. It must have struck a powerful chord deep inside me. Thank you for writing it.
A lady from Queensland whose husband was dying wrote to say that only two things had helped her get through her husband's illness, the medical staff who looked after him, and my book.
And some spooky things happened as well, as revealed in letters like this one from Carl who lives in Rosewater, South Australia.
My partner Jayne and I have just finished reading Caught Between Two Worlds and we both found it extremely fascinating and in many respects, unsettling, because of the sensations involved.
As I read the opening lines I realised that I'd heard this story before. I asked Jayne if we'd discussed your book before but she said that we hadn't. I insisted that we had and correctly predicted several passages, sentences and events as I remembered them.
As Jayne had read the book first, this, to say the least, was unsettling.
And Brian from Hobart wrote:
It's amazing how differently I see things now that I've read your book. Friends who have read it say it's changed how they view life. We hope you write another one.
The letters came from all age groups, Australia-wide. Again, thank you.
Come along with me now as my spiritual journey continues. May it help you gain strength, balance and satisfaction in your own journey.
Scott Russell Hill
March 1997
Pertaining to the soul, mind or spirit: beyond the physical, sensitive to or in touch with that which cannot be explained physically.
The UFO flew side by side with the car on a lonely country highway. The digital clock inside the car read 11.11 p.m., eerie considering the deep mystical references to the unknown associated with 11.11.
The speedo crept up to one hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. In a fruitless quest to out-run the UFO the car was moving so fast that its wheels seemed to skim above the bitumen. But speed was no advantage because the UFO remained a silent partner, effortlessly following the car through the inky blackness of night.
One hundred and fifty-eight kilometres an hour.
The car's headlights lit up a yellow road sign which warned that eighty-five kilometres an hour was needed to negotiate an approaching bend of the highway. A quick attack on the brakes and the car took the bend at ninety-five, clinging to the bitumen by the finest tyre tread. It was then that the UFO rose upwards and over the car filling it with brilliant white light ...
My eyes opened quickly. I stared up at a pale white ceiling. Where was I? The bed felt unfamiliar. My heart thumped away in my chest, that anxious, stabbing beat often encountered when coming back from a nightmare.
I turned my head sideways. The bedside clock shone 5.30 a.m. in skinny red numerals. The room was already light.
I expelled a slow relieved sigh. Now I knew where I was. My heartbeat began to lessen in rapidity as the peace of recognition swelled around me. The last of the UFO dream dissipated as the reality of this twenty-first floor apartment surrounded me. I closed my eyes again so that I could concentrate on a few moments of meditational breathing. It worked, and gradually my heartbeat returned to normal.
I opened my eyes and saw my large maroon coloured suitcase which lay open on the floor beside the bed. Jocks, socks and T-shirts were strewn out of neat folded order after a thorough search the night before for the toothpaste I'd forgotten to pack.
I stretched my arms one way and my legs the other, thankful that October on the Gold Coast is comfortably warm because only a sheet was left of the bed covers. It had wound its way desperately around my left foot. I shook my foot to dislodge the sheet and it disappeared over the end of the bed.
Then from outside came the screeching of car tyres followed by a loud crash. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the thin cotton curtains which covered double sliding glass doors to the balcony. Sunshine beamed through from behind the curtains and I squinted on opening them, their thin veil of protection from the morning sun cast aside. The view of other high-rise buildings standing boldly in front of a majestic blue Pacific Ocean was breathtaking. The ocean glinted and sparkled in the wonder of morning, the sun only having just completely risen above the horizon.
I slid the glass doors open and walked out onto the balcony where the balmy tinge of what was to be a warm tropical day enveloped me. I looked down to the highway to see an older model Holden had decided to take a short cut underneath the back of a garbage truck. The front of the car was crumpled in like a piano accordion. Four men were standing by the car having a heated discussion.
I shielded my eyes from the glare of the rising sun and focused on the pranged car which was shrouded in the shadows of the high-rise buildings. I was looking for a high intensity of human auric energy emanating from its windows. Any vehicle made out of metal conducts the energy and colours of the human aura, with the colours glowing around the windows. When there's been an accident the auric energy around the vehicle increases in intensity, pulsating like a distress signal. Even if the person or persons inside are deceased there'll still be auric energy, and it can stay there for days.
Down on the highway I could make out white, gold and red colours rising upwards through the roof of the car on the driver's side meaning there was one person in the car and they needed medical assistance quickly. Their body was crying for help.
Two other cars pulled over near the accident and the drivers walked over to offer assistance, one of them clutching a mobile phone.
I went back inside. Gawking at accidents had never been my forte. I'd come across enough of them myself, enough to last me five lifetimes actually.
I looked in the second bedroom to see my nieces Emily and Sophie fast asleep. Their excitement at coming here from Adelaide and a late night after arriving yesterday had been tiring and overwhelming for them. Even the noise of the crash on the highway below hadn't woken them up.
I smiled and wondered which one of the Gold Coast theme parks they were dreaming about. The rides and the fun they were going to have was all they'd been able to talk about since I offered to bring them here.
I put the kettle on and decided to wait for it to boil out on the dining room balcony. I was feeling quite agile and spritely now, not bad for someone who'd only had about three hours sleep. The approaching sound of an ambulance siren sailed across the morning. Out on the balcony the morning sun warmed my body. Cautiously I looked over the edge of the balcony down to the swimming pool, deckchairs and umbrellas that were set out below. While I don't have a fear of heights, I could only handle looking over the edge for a moment, and returned my gaze to the sweeping high-rise panorama of the Gold Coast.
Then I looked east beyond where the rows of buildings ended and imagined the life which teemed there in the ocean, the life that was out there now right in the spot I was focused on. What was out there at this moment? What was out there that I couldn't see from here?
I smiled. How very much now my life was based on not looking at what was obviously right in front of me, but instead looking at the greater picture beyond.
I looked upwards at the clear blue sky, another ocean of sorts. Large, immense, and full of life.
Down at the accident scene an ambulance arrived, with a tow truck close behind it. I wondered where the police were. There was no sign of them.
The auric energy of the person in the crashed Holden continued to rise from the vehicle. From the way it radiated I could tell they were still alive.
Then I saw something else. A German Shepherd dog was pacing frantically by the crashed car. It barked and then whimpered. Where did the dog come from, I wondered. It wasn't there before.
It barked again. No one down on the highway took any notice of it. And then I discovered why. As the ambulance personnel tended to the person in the car the dog ran through the car to them. The dog was a ghost, looking as real and as solid as if alive. I didn't feel the dog had been in the car and died in the accident. I felt it had long since passed over, but still vigilantly in spirit was watching over its master, as many animals do.
Another reality of the spirit world. So many realities. So many questions. And, of course, answers that are waiting to be found, or experienced.
A question I needed an answer to was an additional reason why I was making this trip. There was something I needed to discover. Something about a UFO experience that I wanted to learn the truth about. Once and for all.
Perhaps if I found the truth then I'd stop having the dream ... the lonely country road, the car, the UFO. How many times had I woken from that dream? Five, maybe six. Was the dream connected to the truth of what I was seeking, or was it something totally unrelated? I sighed. As usual, only time would tell.
Emily and Sophie were up and about just after nine, their first taste of not being under the scrutiny of my brother or his wife. Not that I planned to let them get away with anything, mind you. But I did have my own spiritual perspective of how to deal with their different personalities.
Thirteen-year-old Emily with her flaming red hair and freckled face is a fun-loving, deep thinking Aquarian, and she has a dry sense of humour just like her Uncle Scotty. Eleven-year-old Sophie with her trademark Can-cerian blonde hair is a born actress. She can also be moody and introverted. But with good reason. She almost died soon after being born, arid spent ten days in intensive care with a breathing difficulty. It was touch and go whether she'd make it. Adding to the trauma was my brother's extremely bad financial situation at the time. He couldn't even afford to put petrol in his car to drive to the Children's Hospital. While I could put petrol in his car, I didn't have a lot of ready cash to throw around either.
But someone up there was looking after us. An avid racing man, I decided it was time to win some serious money to help my brother out. During the time Sophie was in intensive care, I took one trifecta every day and won big each time. Then I'd give my brother money to help ease his financial burden. All up I won just over five grand from ten trifectas over the ten days.
On the eleventh day, following the success of a corrective surgical procedure, Sophie was taken off the critical list. The trifecta I placed that day lost. A definite sign that my 'lucky streak' was over. So I gave betting a rest for a while, happy that for the time of most need, someone had taken care of us.
My ex, Andrea, and her son Dwayne had also come along on this trip and were staying in the same apartment building as us but down on the third floor. It was good that after the years we'd been together, Andrea and I were still the closest of friends. There was no bitterness, no animosity in our break-up. We'd always communicated honestly and openly and continue to do so.
I also remained very close to Dwayne. He once told me that if he was going to give anyone a Father's Day card it'd be me because I was the closest thing to a father that he'd ever had.
Before going to Sea World we all went on a quick sightseeing and shopping spree in Surfers Paradise just to make the most of every second of available time. Leaving Andrea and the children to browse through a souvenir shop, I made a beeline for a men's wear store, with the aim of buying some new clothes.
While I was browsing through some shirts on a rack a man walked up to me. 'Are you buying something for yourself or for the ghost of the Japanese guy standing next to you?' he asked.
'Yuri's very hard to buy for,' I replied. 'Everything just falls off him!' I was unfazed that the man could see the ghost of my friend who died in the Tiananmen Square massacre. Many people see ghosts or spirits all the time.
As for Yuri and I ... well, we'd been the best of friends in many lives. Our paths had crossed in this life back in high school when he came to Australia from Japan as an exchange student. During the year he spent in Australia my life path became more clear through his wisdom, and my past-life connection to Japan and martial arts also led to a greater understanding of who I am now.
I only got to see Yuri twice in the years following his return to Japan. Teaching in China, he was caught up in the cross-fire of the tragedy of the Tiananmen Square massacre, and died. That happened five days before we were going to meet up in his home city of Kobe to celebrate his thirty-second birthday.
Yuri was now my closest spiritual guide and I often joked to him that I saw more of him now as a spirit than I ever did when he was in a physical body.
The man in the men's wear store smiled and held out his hand. 'Christian de Villiers.'
'Scott,' I reciprocated as we shook hands.
I never go into full name introductions straight away because usually people forgot them anyway. Taking the lead from his name and accent I assumed my way into a casual conversation.
'So you're from South Africa,' I said, continuing to browse down the shirt rack. 'Yes, Cape Town.' 'Beautiful place,' I said. 'Indeed,' agreed Christian.
A tall man aged in his mid-thirties, Christian's windswept blond hair was parted on the side, and beginning to recede at the front. A bedraggled fringe hung across one side of his forehead. Wearing round John Lennon style glasses he reminded me of some of the slightly eccentric managers of the rich and famous that I'd met over the years.
'You're obviously used to the dealings of the "other side" or you wouldn't be standing here talking to me now,' Christian said.
'Indeed,' I answered, mimicking his earlier response.
Christian smiled. 'I've been known to, well ...' he thought about the best word to use, '... alarm people with some of the things I see. Some people have broken world records running away from me, you know.'
'I'm sure they have,' I chuckled.
'Red would look good on you,' Christian said as I admired a shirt.
'Yeah, but it wouldn't look good to my wallet,' I said.
'Two hundred dollars?' Christian guessed.
'Just about. I always seem to choose the most expensive.'
Christian reached into his jacket pocket and took out his wallet. 'Where is it, where is it?' he muttered to himself as he rummaged through its compartments. 'Ah,' he sighed with relief. 'Here's my card,' and he handed it to me.
Christian de Villiers
Professor, Paranormal Research
'I'm here on a mixture of business and pleasure and right now I'm running very late for an appointment. But could we possibly meet for lunch tomorrow and continue our discussion? I find people like you fascinating.'
People like me?
'I'm already having lunch tomorrow,' I said. I wasn't trying to put him off. Just stating a fact.
'Hmm,' said Christian thoughtfully. 'Perhaps after lunch,' he suggested.
A slight wave of suspicion swept through me as to Christian's keenness, but I put that down to natural caution.
'I'm staying at the Gold Coast International,' said Christian. 'Perhaps we could meet there.'
'I'm having lunch with a friend there on Sunday,' I said.
'Perfect,' said Christian. 'What time's your lunch?'
'Twelve.'
'I'll meet you there at two, or do you need longer?'
'Two's fine,' I answered.
'See you then,' Christian said and he bounded out of the store.
Believing as I do that there are no accidents, that we choose to experience certain events or meet certain people at different stages of our lives, I wondered why I'd chosen to meet Christian.
We rode the monorail around Sea World which wasn't exactly excitement plus, and afterwards as we were walking towards the first ride the kids wanted to go on we passed a life-size cartoon-like figure of a walrus, which you could have your photo taken with. As we approached, an elderly lady was having her photo taken beside the walrus. I wondered if the spirit of her husband would come up on the negative. He was standing next to her smiling widely, glimmering in a phosphorescent white/blue coloured glow.
Dwayne, Emily and Sophie wanted their photo taken with the walrus too, so we waited our turn. A couple of shots were taken of the lady, after which her husband 'stroked' her face with his hand. His action made her scratch the side of her face where he'd 'touched' her. He then disappeared.
The lady smiled to me as she walked past. I smiled back.
With the photo's taken, Emily, Dwayne and Andrea went on the roller coaster, while Sophie and I chickened out and stood watching. I'd been on many roller coasters and never had a problem. This day I just didn't feel comfortable going on. Maybe all the spiritual experiences I'd encountered had been thrill rides on their own!
'You ought to go on,' said Andrea when they returned. 'It's great!'
Dwayne and Emily were beaming and immediately asked if they could go on again.
'Why don't you go with them?' Andrea prompted. 'I'll stay with Sophie.'
Oh what the hell, I thought.
As I walked with Dwayne and Emily they gave me excited descriptions of every spin and turn we'd take, and the fact that it would all be over quickly, thankfully.
The line-up was long and as we waited I continued my debate whether I really wanted to go on the roller coaster or not. Then there was a 'tap' on my shoulder. Over the years I'd learnt the difference in feel between a spooky tap, and a human tap. This was a 'spooky' tap.
I was being cautioned about something.
The line moved forward as people piled into the roller coaster cars for the next ride. The ride started and Dwayne and Emily excitedly reminded me that it would be our turn next. I watched the roller coaster speed up and down and around. I still didn't really want to do this. What was I doing still standing in this line? The carriages came back in, and those on board got out and it was our turn to get on. Then there was another 'tap' on my shoulder. Hmm. Someone's trying to tell me something here, I thought. Yuri always said: 'When in doubt, do nothing.' Maybe I'm not meant to get on this thing, I thought.
Then, as if making the final decision for me, a young guy wearing a baseball cap reversed, jumped the queue and took the last available seat just in front of Emily and Dwayne. There was no room for me. One of the people working on the ride put their arm out to stop me from going forward and told me that I'd have to wait until the next ride.
Forget it!
Andrea gave me her 'you chicken' look when I returned.
'There was a problem with one of the seats in the car in front of us,' Emily said after the ride. 'Something to do with the safety bar.'
'Really,' I said. 'The guy with the baseball cap on backwards, where was he sitting?' Yes! I would've sat in that seat so I was stopped from getting on. My greatest fear on roller coasters is that the safety bar will come loose and I'll fall out. I always go through a last minute panic fearing it hasn't secured properly. Obviously this day luck was on my side.
'Tell us a spooky story,' Emily and Sophie asked me eagerly as we killed a bit of time before going to the movies that night. We were sitting in the lounge room of the apartment, and Emily and Sophie were waiting for their Uncle Scotty to make their hair stand on end yet again. There wasn't a science fiction movie they hadn't seen, a paranormal encounter they weren't interested in.
'Well,' I began drawing out the moment, 'have I told you about the Spanish man who died after being accidentally pulled into a paper shredding machine at a recycling plant?'
Emily's eyes opened wider than Sophie's. Emily was more into stories that involved blood and guts than her sister and this sounded like one that Emily would really like.
'The only part of the man that escaped shredding was one of his hands,' I said, 'which lay bleeding and quivering on the factory floor.'
'That's gross, Uncle Scotty!' interjected Sophie.
'And ever since the accident, workers at the factory have been terrified, either by visions of severed hands appearing which sometimes leave physical trails of blood over the workplace, or by the ghost of the dead man. The ghost keeps appearing within the machinery of all the shredders around the factory, reaching out and screaming to employees for help.'
'He needs someone to help him go over to the other side,' said Emily matter-of-factly.
'I didn't like that story,' Sophie said. 'Have you got another one?' she asked in the same breath.
I knew underneath it all that Sophie enjoyed hearing her uncle's library of ghost stories. If they really bothered her, I'd never tell them to her.
'Well, there was the twenty-eight-year-old plantation worker in India who killed a protected elephant for its tusks. The police caught up with him and he was thrown in gaol.
'It wasn't long before the guards reported that the man kept screaming out that there was the ghost of an elephant in his cell. But the cell was too small for a dog, let alone an elephant.
'Even so, one morning the man was found dead. Lying on his back on the floor, his chest had been crushed and pushed through to his backbone. The impression left was that of an elephant's foot, and when compared by authorities, it exactly matched the imprint of the right front foot of the elephant the man had killed.'
'Serves him right,' said Sophie defiantly. 'He shouldn't have killed the elephant in the first place!'
'Did it really squash him flat, Uncle Scotty?' Emily asked, trying to visualise the macabre side of the story.
'Flat as a pancake,' I said. She giggled.
'Will I ever see a ghost, Uncle Scotty?' Sophie asked. 'I don't know sweetheart. Would you like to?' 'I'd prefer to see an alien,' she answered. 'Yes, a close encounter,' Emily agreed. My nieces. If Gillian Anderson ever quit The X Files as Dana Scully they'd stand in line to take her place!
The Gold Coast Hoyts cinema complex appeared quite modern from the foyer area, but once inside the actual cinema I felt like I'd fallen into a sixties time warp.
'Don't think we'll get Dolby sound in this place,' I muttered to Andrea as we were seated.
For a Saturday night, the session was almost empty. Maybe twenty people. Everyone else no doubt was partying out on the Gold Coast circuit.
The seat I'd chosen suddenly gave way and I collapsed downwards.
'Are you all right?' Andrea asked trying to help me out.
'I think I'd better move down a seat,' I said.
We were there to see Apollo 13.
I leant forward so that Emily, Sophie and Dwayne could see me. 'Do you guys know that Apollo 13 took off at thirteen minutes past the thirteenth hour on the thirteenth of April 1970?'
'Spooky,' said Emily.
'Very,' I said.
The lights went down.
A flash of light appeared out of the corner of my eye. I turned and looked. There was just darkness and empty seats. Then another flash appeared above my head. I looked up but could only see the stream of light from the projector heading towards the screen.
Andrea reached across and tapped me on the arm. 'Are you seeing flashes of light?' she whispered, herself very in tune on a spiritual level.
'Yeah. The place is haunted,' I said.
'Who'd want to haunt this?' she asked.
'Probably some poor bastard that killed himself on one of these seats!' I replied.
The flashes can also mean that you're on the verge of moving another step forward spiritually, much like the light from a lighthouse moving through the darkness of night and cutting a path of safety. I thought about the meeting with Christian tomorrow and my other reason for being on the Gold Coast, the UFO answers I was seeking.
I'm on the verge of something, I thought. The spirit world always tells you when you are.
With Andrea and the kids shipped off to Movie World, I made my way to the Gold Coast International. I was meeting a guy who had worked there, twenty-eight-year-old Barry. We'd become quite friendly through my regular stays at the hotel and I'd promised that we'd catch up and talk in depth about the many spiritual experiences Barry was encountering, some of which he was afraid of. As I'd walked down the path of fear myself and overcome that fear I knew I'd be able to help Barry deal with the spiritual obstacles he faced.
Barry was waiting for me in the hotel foyer right on twelve. He seemed almost relieved when I walked through the doors. He shook my hand vigorously. 'It's really good to see you, I've been waiting for this for a long time.'
'You look as fit as all hell,' I told him. 'You put me to shame.'
'I ride my bike everywhere,' Barry said.
We made our way into the dining room, where seated, with drinks in hand, and lunch ordered, it was down to business.
'I don't know where to start,' Barry said, 'but I wanted to talk to you because, well, from reading your book, you've gone through so much spiritually and ... and I want to try to handle it all and understand it like you do.'
With that out of the way, Barry began filling me in on his experiences.
Five years earlier he'd been playing football and working as a chef in a popular Melbourne inner city restaurant. 'One afternoon the boss comes in and tells me about some special guests who are coming for dinner that night, right? Well the boss tells me the special dishes he'd like cooked to impress the guests. I tell the boss, "no problems". About five minutes later the boss's wife turns up at the restaurant and tells me that he died the night before from a heart attack!'
Barry held his hands out in front of him with a questionable gaze to see if I had anything to say or any explanation to offer.
I deflated the auspiciousness of his moment by saying: 'Hmm, happens a lot.'
'How about this then,' offered Barry moving straight into his next story. 'I go to work for another restaurant and get told on the first day to be careful when I go down into the wine cellar because it's haunted. Well, I think they're having a lend of me, you know. Like some kind of crazy initiation, being the new guy. So one night the restaurant's crowded, I forget about the ghost story and go down into the wine cellar. I hear bottles clinking, ghostly moaning and then a wine bottle flies across the room, just missing me.
'So I quit and get the hell out of Melbourne. I go to Bendigo and rent a house. Not too long after moving in I hear all this screaming, footsteps running up and down the hallway and out the front door, and people talking any hour of the day or night. I couldn't understand what they were saying but it sure as hell got on my nerves! Anyway, after what happened in Melbourne I thought I was going crazy, bull I did notice that the only time all this weird shit happened was on the twenty-seventh. But do I care? No way!' He paused. 'Or maybe that's what I wanted to feel, you know, that it wasn't real. I mean underneath everything I was really scared. I'm not boring you, am I?' he asked in the same breath.
'No,' I said.
Barry nodded gratefully and continued. 'So one night I'm having a series of bad dreams, different locations but the same thing happening. A guy keeps chasing me. Well I didn't like the dreams so I told myself to wake up. And when I do, the guy in the dream is standing by the bed as a ghost!' Barry leant against the table on his elbows, his arms and hands waving in all directions for emphasis. 'Now my girlfriend's asleep next to me and she's got no idea what's goin' down. And there I am, lying in bed frozen with fear as this ghost reaches' out to me. I thought I was gonna die, and then the bastard disappears!'
Barry stopped gesticulating and leant further forward, his hands resting on the table.
'It was 3.30 a.m. ... on the twenty-seventh!'
He drank some beer from his glass, leant back in his chair, and avoiding direct eye contact with me, began to speak much more sedately.
'A week or so later I get word that my natural father's lookin' for me. I'd been lookin' for him too but had lucked out. Anyway, I met him and we did the whole emotional reunion gig, and ... and that's when I found out that I had a brother, two years older than me, who'd been killed in a car accident a week earlier ... on the twenty-seventh.'
He paused again. 'When I saw a photo of him ...' He drifted off into his own thoughts and then came back, speaking quietly. 'The guy in the dream and the ghost by my bed were my brother. The night he visited me was the night he died.'
Another pause. 'Wicked huh!' he said resuming eye contact with me.
There was more sadness than excitement expressed in those last two words. I felt for Barry. I'd been down similar roads myself.
'And you know what else?' Barry said. 'I was twenty-seven when my brother died. Twenty-seven. I can't escape it!'
He put the beer glass he'd been clutching on the table and folded his arms protectively in front of his chest. Friggin' twenty-seven,' he mumbled, this time shaking his head as well.
'What was your brother's name?' I asked.
'Phillip. He looked just like me. I've got a photo here ...' he said, reaching to his hip pocket and taking out his wallet.
He folded his wallet back to show a photo of his brother, who did indeed look just like Barry. 'Didn't you see yourself in the ghost of your brother?' I asked.
Barry shook his head. 'I was too scared to notice. And I went through hell trying to come to terms with it all. There was no one to talk to about it. My girlfriend split. Hasn't spoken to me since. Thinks I'm weird.'
'And what do you think?' I asked.
Barry thought about the question for a moment. 'I was there, you know,' he answered. 'I saw what happened. Now I can't prove what happened and that's a bastard because I want so much for people to understand, not to think I'm crazy, not to look at me strange ...'
Another thoughtful pause. 'Anyway, I know the truth, well ... I know my truth!'
'We'll use that truth as a strength,' I said. Most spiritual experiences are individual and solitary. 'Even when someone else in the physical is there, like your girlfriend, they won't necessarily experience what you have, not if it's your experience.'
'It sucks,' lamented Barry.
'Yes it does,' I agreed, 'but get used to it because that's the way it is. Just focus on the positive. How the experience has taught and evolved you! Once you do that, then your feet will stop aching.'
'How did you know I have trouble with my feet?' Barry asked.
'Because mine have been aching ever since you sat at the table. And I bet if you think back you'll find that you never had any trouble with your feet until you saw your brother.'
Barry studied me curiously as his mind ticked over.
'You know, you're right,' he said. 'I went to see the doctor about a week after I first saw Phillip because my feet hurt so much.'
'And what did the doctor say?' I asked.
'That I must've hurt them playing football, not that he could find anything physically wrong.'
'That's because there isn't anything physically wrong,' I said. 'You're making them hurt. Trouble with the feet relates to people who refuse to move on emotionally or spiritually. But you telling your story today is a good way to make that pain go away. Especially your right heel. It hurts like hell!'
Barry lifted out of his chair a little. 'You can feel that?' he exclaimed.
'Yep.'
I shifted my foot under the table to encourage the pain energy I was picking up from Barry to move on. It worked. I often pick up on people's aches and pains, physically feeling it within my own body. The pain from my foot disappeared, but then another pain took over.
'You broke your right leg too, about a year ago,' I said, shaking my leg to encourage that energy from Barry to go as well.
'Jesus, next thing you'll be telling me how many times I've had sex!' Barry said.
'I have the figures here,' I said tapping the side of my head. 'Both you with and without a partner.'
Barry again crossed his arms protectively in front of his chest and sat back in his chair. He looked worried now. Poor guy was so uptight he'd left his sense of humour at home.
'I'm only kidding,' I assured him. I made a mental note to put humour aside with Barry for the time being. He was wound up like a watch spring, taking everything too seriously. I brought the conversation back to a serious note.
'So you did break your right leg?' I asked.
'Yes.'
'Well, breaking your leg means different things, depending whether it's on your left or right side. As you broke your right leg it means that at the time it happened you weren't working through your karma or listening to your higher self. So the guys upstairs lay you up which gives you time to think things over. And whether you break your leg, or your foot hurts or you've got a cold, whatever, the physical body is an outlet for what the soul is working through.'
'And how do I get through whatever my soul's working through?' Barry asked.
'How did I get through it?' I asked. It was a fair question. He'd read Caught Between Two Worlds.
Barry thought about it. 'You persevered, you fell, you kept going.' He uncrossed his arms and scratched the side of his face. 'So all the answers are within, right?'
'Always,' I said.
'Including a way to overcome my fear of what's been happening?'
'Absolutely. If you want to find it.'
Christian arrived shortly after two. He appeared slightly flustered and I could almost see the cogs in his brain turning over and over. He reminded me of the rabbit in Alice In Wonderland who was always saying 'I'm late, I'm late!'
I introduced Barry to Christian. Barry offered to leave us alone to talk but I told him to stay. I was sure Barry would find whatever Christian had to say most interesting, as I'm sure I would too.
With a drink in his hand, Christian relaxed after five minutes or so, and the conversation didn't get into anything too deep and meaningful. Just getting to know you stuff. Christian spoke warmly about his home country of South Africa, except for the civil unrest. He'd been married, had two children—twins—a boy and a girl aged nineteen. They still lived with their mother back home. The wife had taken off with another guy but Christian blamed himself because he was always away from home pursuing his paranormal adventures. Amongst his credits he'd taught at the University in Johannesburg, lectured at Harvard, and worked with the Edgar Cayce Foundation in Los Angeles.
'Edgar Cayce was an amazing man,' I said. 'Indeed,' agreed Christian. 'So much of what he predicted fifty, sixty years ago has come true.'
Christian had told me the day before that he was in Australia on a mixture of business and pleasure. I was interested to hear about any spiritual business he may be encountering but hedged against asking anything specific, instead coming out with: 'So are you having a good time in Australia?'
I couldn't believe that I said something so lame. 'Very much,' answered Christian, leaning in closer to the table and lowering his voice which prompted Barry and I to move in closer to hear him, 'but you want to know what really brings me to Australia.' 'True,' I said.
'Well, nothing specific yet, unfortunately,' he answered raising his voice back to a normal level. 'I'm a bit like Indiana Jones, you know, always looking for a new adventure.'
'And you think you'll find that adventure here?' I asked.
'I'm on the trail,' Christian said from behind a wry smile. His mind changed gear. 'That, of course, is on one side of the fence. Amongst other things, I want to track down some information on a man who was sent to Australia from the United Kingdom as a convict back in the days of the early settlers. Some teenagers in Wales had a séance and called in the spirit of the convict. And do you know what it said?'
He switched to a deep spooky voice.
' "Whoever hears my words will die"!'
Barry raised his eyebrows and moved back in his chair, trying to gain some physical comfort as he listened to the story.
Christian sighed and switched back to his normal voice. 'Nothing I tried worked to clear the ghost's energy. Within three weeks, five of the six teenagers were dead. Two died in a car accident, one died at a theatre after stage lights fell on him during a play rehearsal, one was electrocuted and the other committed suicide.' Christian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Strangely enough, the sixth kid's still alive. All I can put it down to is that the ghost said "Whoever hears my words will die"! Well, this kid had been deaf since birth and didn't hear a thing. But ... now he can hear! Not perfect, mind you, but clear enough.'
'What about the ghost?' Barry asked.
'Hasn't been seen since,' replied Christian. 'But it told his name and where he came from in his physical life. I'm interested to know more about his history. So I'll see if I can find anything out while I'm down in Sydney.'
I wish people would stay away from Ouija boards,' I said.
'Indeed,' agreed Christian. 'The fine line between the physical and spiritual worlds is often unknowingly easy to step across.'
'Does your research take you much into past lives?' I asked.
'Very much so, and especially with young children. More and more they're clearly remembering past lives. But it's not so surprising considering all children born in the 1990s are very psychic, they're very old souls, burning off heaps of karma before the end of the millennium.'
'How do they recall these past lives?' asked Barry.
Christian snapped his fingers. 'Just like that! Clear as going to the movies ..." he sipped his bourbon and Coke. '. . . It's a pity everyone can't see their past lives that easily.'
'Tell me a really eerie situation you've encountered or heard of,' I said to Christian.
'The convict ghost wasn't enough?' complained Barry.
'That was scary,' I clarified to Barry. 'Eerie's different!'
'I need to go to the Men's,' Barry informed us, and hastily retreated.
'You're going to be helping him,' Christian told me as he leant forward and rested his arms on the table. 'He's spiritually lost.'
I nodded agreement.
'So,' I reminded Christian, 'something really eerie.'
He pursed his lips and twirled his almost empty glass between his fingers. 'Do you believe in curses?' he asked.
I nodded.
'How about a lucky rabbit's foot that hasn't been very lucky?' he began. 'Over a two year period, eighteen people died within days of acquiring the rabbit's foot. One person was torn to pieces by a pack of dogs. A twenty-two-year-old man died suddenly from a heart attack after being given the rabbit's foot. Twenty-two!
'The history of the rabbit's foot has been traced back to 1994 when a Chinese immigrant brought it to America. Two days after he arrived he died of food poisoning at a Chinatown restaurant and the city of San Francisco claimed his belongings.
'Later, the rabbit's foot was purchased at a probate auction by an overweight housewife. She died the next day of a stroke. A nineteen-year-old college football player killed himself after playing the greatest game of his life. He was wearing the rabbit's foot around his neck as a good luck charm.
'A school crossing monitor holding the rabbit's foot was struck by a car and killed as he ran across the crossing to pick up a little girl's doll.
'A forty-eight-year-old man died from mumps the day after he bought the "lucky" rabbit's foot. And a dog loving kennel owner was attacked and killed by three of his beloved collies. The rabbit's foot was found in his pocket.'
'Where's this rabbit's foot now?'
'A long, long way from here, I hope,' said Christian. 'Eerie enough for you?'
'Quite,' I said.
'Enough of me and my stories then,' said Christian. 'Let's talk about you. It's not often I come across someone who's so comfortable with the reality of the spirit world, and I'm talking much more than just believing in ghosts or knowing when the phone's going to ring. You have a manner about you that's ... well, sitting on a lot of spiritual experience, let's put it that way.'
'True,' I said.
'Where does your past life history take you besides Japan?' Christian asked me as Barry returned to the table.
'France and Scotland,' I answered. 'Before that I have a fair idea but don't really care too much about it at this stage.'
'I thought we all came from Atlantis,' Barry said.
'Only if you're Flipper,' Christian replied curtly.
'What about you?' I asked Christian. 'What lives have you lived?'
'Too many to mention,' replied Christian, 'but it seems I've been doing this spooky type of work through most of them, so there's obviously something out there that I'm meant to lock into.'
'Maybe you already have,' I suggested.
'Maybe I have,' Christian concurred with a wry smile. 'Scott ... ahhh ...' Christian searched his memory but drew a blank. 'I'm sorry. I've forgotten the name of the spirit guide I saw you with.'
'Yuri.'
'Yes, Yuri. I sense from his energies that he hasn't been on the other side this time for very long.'
'Just over four years,' I said, 'since the Tiananmen Square massacre.' I paused. 'Gate of Heavenly Peace,' I added in quiet reflection. 'That's what Tiananmen Square means.'
'You have a very strong past life connection with Yuri,' Christian told me.
'I know.'
'Yes,' Christian smiled. 'Indeed I'm sure you do. Warriors then, warriors now!' He raised his eyebrows in a cheeky fashion.
'Would I have a spirit guide?' Barry asked.
'You'd have more than one,' Christian told him. 'We all do.'
'Probably your brother Phillip is one of them,' I said. 'There has to be a positive reason as to why he's appeared to you.'
'Do you talk to Yuri often?' Christian asked me.
'If you mean do I walk around the house or drive the car talking out loud to him, sure. Even when I know he's not there I talk to him. Sometimes he'll appear to me in a dream. We'll have a face to face conversation as clear as I'm talking to you now. Then there are other times when I can't physically see him in spirit but he talks to me in my head, as in it's his voice and not mine.'
'About what?'
'What he's doing in spirit, what I'm doing in the physical, and the differences between the physical and spiritual worlds. Sometimes he warns me about a situation or encourages me to place more attention towards something that I may be neglecting. When Yuri first went over to the other side he'd appear in spirit to me every few days. It was like a reunion with an old friend. Now any communication is basically as and if required. And that fits in with how I've chosen to work through and learn about all this stuff in this life.'
'Pretty well on your own,' said Christian.
'Uh huh.'
'That's a very high karmic choice to make before entering the physical body again,' Christian said. 'You must have found it very hard when you were younger.'
I smiled. 'I had my moments.'
'And now?' asked Christian.
'Well, things are a lot different now. Rather than fight against the situation, I let it support me. One can only bang their head against the wall for so long, no matter what they're dealing with. And I've come to understand that even when I'm on my own, I'm not really alone ... am I, Yuri,' I said, turning my head to the side as if Yuri was standing next to me.
Barry looked to where I turned to see if he could see Yuri.
'Yuri's going to lead you to something,' Christian said matter of factly. 'Something important to your karmic path of choice.'
'Something?' I questioned.
'Someone,' Christian clarified.
'Where?'
'Here in Queensland.'
My mind scanned a possible scenario.
'You have an issue to work out with them,' Christian continued. The deeper he delved into his own thoughts the more clipped his conversation became. 'Hmm ... an issue ... deeply spiritual ...'
'Do you know who he's talking about?' whispered Barry.
'No.'
'Yuri will lead you to him, and I must go,' said Christian as he stood. 'You and I will see each other again,' he said shaking my hand. 'I don't know when, but we will.'
I gave Christian one of my business cards. He tucked it away in his wallet.
'Barry,' he said, extending his hand. 'Good luck with everything.'
They shook hands and Christian left.
'He's strange,' Barry said once Christian was safely out of earshot.
'Aren't we all,' I said.
'You've got my number,' I said to Barry in the foyer of the hotel. 'Keep in touch. Call me whenever you need to.'
'Thanks,' said Barry. 'With the kind of journey I've chosen to take in this life I'm sure I'll take you up on that.'
What I didn't know at this stage was that the holes in Barry's aura which I'd seen were more than a warning about his health.
They were a warning about his life, and how close the end of that life might be!
As I watched Emily and Sophie go down the walkway at Brisbane Airport and board the plane back to Adelaide I felt grateful to have two such wonderful nieces, and proud that the first time they stepped out of the safety of their day-to-day existence, they wanted to go on that journey with their spooky uncle.
From the airport I drove my hire car to an inner Brisbane suburb where my other reason for coming to Queensland was about to come to fruition. I had an appointment with a man who'd come highly recommended. He claimed to have been abducted by aliens a number of times and specialised in assisting people coming to terms with any kind of close encounter they may have had.
Sixteen years earlier two very good friends of mine, Matthew and Anne, were with me in the early hours of the morning when we were chased by a UFO near Lake Bonney at Barmera in the Riverland of South Australia. For years after I never gave any thought as to whether an abduction had taken place during that encounter. It never crossed my mind to think along those lines ... until the past year or so. I'd had a run of people telling me their UFO and close encounter stories. Similarities between their stories and what happened to us that night surfaced, making me in turn question whether something more than I remembered had happened that night.
Was there missing time? Had more happened than just a UFO chasing our car and then disappearing? I wanted to find out. So far, though, the people who I thought would help me hadn't, telling me that I had to find out in my own time in my own way. Just what you don't want to hear when you want a quick answer. I'd made a couple of interstate trips elsewhere and had spoken to some so called experts who unfortunately turned out to be a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic.
'The subject of UFOs can bring out the crazies,' a friend had warned.
'Going to the first sales after Christmas also brings out the crazies,' I countered. But he was right. I'd met my fair share of head-cases, and not just in the area of UFOs. But somewhere amongst the froth and bubble, the would-be-could-bes and those with a direct line to God hid the genuine article, a person with true abilities or knowledge.
I hoped Martin would be that person with regard to his knowledge of UFOs and abductions. He worked from his home near Sanctuary Cove and I was more than interested to hear what his opinion of my UFO experience was.
Martin greeted me at his front door. He was in his early forties, tanned and very lean. I guessed from the two bikes parked in the hallway that he like Barry, did a lot of bike riding.
Martin took me to his office at the side of the house. It contained a desk cluttered with papers, faxes and books. Posters and photos of UFOs adorned the walls. There were also newspaper clippings of stories regarding alien encounters stuck to the walls. It was almost like a bomb had gone off and plastered newspaper all over the wall.
Martin ushered me to a well worn leather chair on the visitor's side of his desk. He sat in a reclining, swivel high back chair on the other side.
While he had been very friendly on the phone, and friendly enough when I came to the door, now in his office, Martin seemed aloof, in some ways, on guard. He reclined in his chair and looked at me, bridging his fingers in studious thought.
'So how can I help you, Scott?' he asked.
'Well, I had a UFO experience a few years ago. Out in the country some friends and I were chased by one but we got away in our car. I hadn't given the idea that I might have been abducted during that experience much thought before people who said they'd been abducted began coming to me in increasing numbers in the last couple of years. Some of their experiences were similar to mine, missing time and all that. And that got me thinking.'
I didn't like the energy I was picking up from Martin but I pressed on. 'As I said to you on the phone, I'm not an expert in this area, you come highly recommended, and uh ...'
Martin sat motionless, studying me. It was putting me off.
'... Uhh ... I guess I want to find out your professional opinion of the story. Whether you believe I was abducted or not.'
I felt pretty good about what I'd just said. It was clear and to the point.
'What are you afraid of?' Martin asked.
What? That wasn't what I was expecting to be asked. Hmmm. Strange question. I searched for an appropriate answer to give to the motionless Martin. Did this man ever blink?
'Um ...' I began before drifting off. I truly didn't feel afraid about anything connected with what we were discussing. Why was he using the word 'afraid', I wondered. Maybe I needed to look at the question more laterally.
'I'm afraid ...' I began, stretching both words out to allow myself another second to get my thoughts into perspective, '. . . that something happened that night that I'm yet to remember.'
I was satisfied with that response and expected Martin to be too. But ...
'What are you afraid of?' he asked again.
I bristled at Martin's insistence on repeating the question, and began to wish I hadn't come. I scolded myself for listening to my friends' recommendation to visit this fool!
Our eyes met as we sussed each other out. I broke the gaze to contemplate his question. Martin finally moved and leant forward, resting his elbows on the table as he waited for a reply.
'Um .. .' I said again, stalling for more time.
All right. I'll give this one more try, I thought. I didn't really like using the word 'afraid'. It was Martin's word, not mine, but I rolled with the flow. 'I'm afraid ... that ... well ... I've been dealing with cases of abduction lately and ... because I've got all this UFO stuff going through my head, I don't know whether I'm playing mind games with myself or whether something really did happen beyond just seeing a UFO that night.'
Martin stared at me blankly.
I expanded on what I was feeling to let him know that I was quite informed on the subject matter. 'The abductees I've spoken to all say they were taken by aliens for a variety of experiments and then returned. Many of them have also told me that during their alien abduction they weren't in time like we on earth are, and that the aliens have shown them how time can be altered. Now even though most physicists agree that reverse time flow is impossible, and that two realities can't exist within the same space, I believe that it is possible to change the rate of time, either speeding it up, slowing it down, or stopping it altogether. For instance, a civilisation capable of light speed travel could play with the forward flow of time as well as the lateral flow of space. I mean, is that where people go when there's missing time? Is that why abductees feel like they've been gone for days but have only been gone a few short earth hours? Is that what I've experienced but don't remember?'
Martin continued to just stare at me, expressionless.
He was really annoying me. 'Look, you're the one who specialises in this area,' I continued. 'Based on what I've told you, either tell me "yes", you believe there could be some missing time, or "no", my imagination's just working overtime.'
'What are you afraid of?' Martin asked again.
My facial expression didn't hide the negativity I felt towards him for asking me the question again. I leant back in my chair and sighed. Maybe the aliens who'd abducted him returned his body but kept his brain. Perhaps I'd get lucky and they'd come back for the rest of him.
'Well, obviously this isn't going to work,' I said. 'I really can't identify with where you're coming from.'
'Where do you think I'm coming from?' Martin asked.
I shrugged. 'To be honest with you, right now I don't really care!'
Until you're ready there's really nothing I can do,' Martin told me.
'I'm more than ready,' I stated matter-of-factly. 'I just wasn't expecting your line of questioning.'
I could feel that Martin had put a wall up to me. I certainly had put one up to him.
'What were you expecting?' Martin asked me.
'Some answers, some help,' I replied. 'Am I fooling myself or not? Was I abducted or not? Yes or no. I don't want to play games!'
'You need to realise,' he began, 'that I have to be very careful. I don't know you. There's every chance you could've been sent by the Greys.'
'Uh ... no,' I chuckled. 'I'm not working for the aliens.'
Maybe his line of questioning was planned to throw me off guard. While I was busy trying to come up with a new answer, he was trying to figure me out. I suppressed a smile at the battle he must have had. Trying to figure me out is a tough assignment. I'm not an easy person to read, even though many have tried.
'Do you mind standing up for a moment?' he asked.
'Yeah fine,' I said, 'I'll be leaving now anyway.'
'Just give me a moment,' said Martin.
He sat at his desk and stared at my chest, then looked up and down my body.
This guy's nuts, I thought.
They did a good job on you,' Martin told me.
'What?' I asked, my Scorpio tail rising, ready to strike anything he told me from here on in.
'You've been implanted,' he told me. 'There could well be an alien entity in you too!'
This was the kind of garbage that people who came to see me had been told by so called experts on alien abduction.
'And where is this implant?' I asked incredulously.
'Above your solar plexus. It's controlling your thoughts and movements. You have a lot of psychic hooks attached to your chakra too. I can do psychic surgery on you to cut them and deactivate the implant. It's easy,' he said moving the fingers on his right hand like a pair of scissors. 'You just cut the psychic lines like this
And he 'cut' areas of space in between him and me with his fingers and clicked the fingers of both hands supposedly 'sending' the psychic hooks into oblivion.
Anger swelled within me but I remained calm and icy cool on the outside. Unfortunately there are a lot of people out there like Martin, ready to fill people's heads up with the very worst of frightening suggestions. A woman once came to me terrified because she'd been told she was possessed by an alien entity. All she'd gone to the so called clairvoyant for was a reading on her love life. She came out scared witless!
Few are psychologically prepared for, nor should be exposed to, such irresponsible garbage.
And if I wasn't a person of considerable spiritual experience, what Martin had just told me might well have freaked me out. Worse than that, I could see that Martin truly believed what he was telling me.
Do you tell this kind of shit to everyone who comes to see you?' I asked.
At last, he blinked.
And I left.
The UFO flew effortlessly beside the car one night on the country highway. The digital clock inside the car read 11.11 p.m.
A quick glance at the speedo. One hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. The car was moving so fast to outrun the UFO that its wheels seemed to skim above the bitumen. Another glance out the driver's window. The UFO remained a silent partner, sailing tandem with the car through the inky blackness of the country.
The speedo crept up to one hundred and fifty-eight kilometres an hour. Another glance out the window. The UFO was gone.
Soon the highway would curve, and doing one hundred and fifty-eight kilometres an hour through an eighty-five kilometre bend was wishful thinking.
Besides, what was the point of speeding anyway? The UFO would keep up no matter what speed the car was doing.
The speedo snuck backwards ... one-fifty .. . one-forty ... one-thirty ...
And who else was with me? Someone else was in the car! I looked to see who it was. The car was filled with bright white light ... I sat bolt upright in bed. Unlike last time, I knew immediately where I was.
My hotel in Brisbane.
Bathed in the hazy darkness of night, noting how immediately awake I was, I trundled out of bed. Pity I can't feel this awake when I have to get up in the mornings I thought as I opened the glass sliding door to one of the balconies and went outside for a cigarette. There was rarely a night that I slept right through. Usually something would wake me up. I searched my memory for the last time I'd had a good night's sleep. I couldn't remember.
A screech of tyres surged up from the road below, car horns blew, and abusive language sailed through the still night air. Then more screeching tyres followed before the cars zoomed off up the road.
I wondered whether I was having the recurring dream about the UFO this time because I'd been to see that idiot Martin earlier. Although I thought the guy was completely off centre, in some ways he'd actually helped me. As soon as I walked out of his house I knew that I hadn't been abducted or lost time or anything else beyond being chased by that UFO all those years ago.
I was thankful that as a result of all my experience my head was screwed on right, because if it wasn't, I'd probably be jumping off the hotel balcony freaking out after being told I had an alien implant in me ... oh yes, and not forgetting the psychic hooks!
'Bloody irresponsible,' I muttered.
I was disappointed too.
I had really wanted Martin to be the genuine article.
I hadn't felt so disappointed since I interviewed author Rosemary Altea on radio. She'd written a book called The Eagle and the Rose which had been a bestseller in the United States. The 'Eagle' being her spirit guide and the 'Rose' being herself. The book was all about how she spoke to people on the other side.
The night before I was set to interview her, she appeared on the NBC Today Show and was interviewed by Katie Couric. My internal alarm bells started going off as Rosemary told Katie that a man on the other side wanted her to know that 'he's alive ... and still watches over her.'
With additional information Katie still couldn't relate to who Rosemary was talking about. She even rang her mother in an ad break and checked with her as to who the relative might be.
Katie returned on-air and said that neither she nor her mother knew who the author was referring to.
Probably not realising that we get the Today Show in Australia, Rosemary tried the same routine on me the following night. And believe me, up to that point I was fully prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt.
'And Scott, I have a message for you from the other side,' she told me by phone from New York. 'There's a man who had a heart attack. He was very close to you when he was alive and he's standing by your side now ... and ... he's laughing. He's saying that he still loves you. And he wants you to know, "I'm alive ... I'm alive!" and he also wants you to know that he's resting his hand on your shoulder.'
It was almost word for word what she'd said to Katie Couric. And ... no one close to me had died from the heart attack she described. She'd chosen a common malady that struck many people, so chances were I would've had someone close to me die in those circumstances.
But no one had.
Picture the character Sophia Petrillo, the elderly mother on the TV show The Golden Girls and you have Margaret, a fun loving eighty-something Aquarian who's never lost her zest for life. Her late husband, Ken, had been best friends with my dad and I first met Margaret when she and Ken moved to Adelaide from Melbourne in 1970. Age is no barrier when deep friendship is there, and Margaret remains one of my closest and dearest friends. She has the vitality of a twenty-year-old, looks younger than she is and dresses very trendily. On her frequent trips to Adelaide it's nothing for her to run me off my feet at the Adelaide Casino.
As I approached her Brisbane house, I pictured the toast and Vegemite and cup of tea I knew would be awaiting me. No one makes toast and Vegemite quite like Margaret, it's quite an art, you know.
Anyway, after the hugs, greetings and toast, we were ready to hit the pokies. If there's one place I can forget just about everything it's sitting in front of one of those infernal machines.
We headed for the Redcliffe Leagues Club, and as I did a U-turn by the ocean I had a sudden 'flash'.
'Have they recently found someone murdered on the beach along here?' I asked Marg.
'Not that I know of,' she answered.
'They will,' I said.
Four days later the body of a man was found on the beach just up from where we were.
Inside the Redcliffe Leagues Club gaming room I cashed $100 and gave Marg $50. We walked around the room looking for any machine that attracted our attention. There were various machines with progressive cash jackpots displayed above, some as high as $7,000. But it was one of the machines with a lower jackpot that attracted my attention. The top prize remained constant at $2,500 with a mini jackpot of $1,000.
'I have to play that machine,' I told Margaret.
'But there's others with bigger jackpots,' she said.
'Yes, but I'll win this one,' I told her.
'Going to give it a bit of psychic help, are you?' she asked me.
'Don't have to,' I said. 'It's already "telling" me that it's going to pay.'
Unfortunately the woman playing the machine was firmly entrenched on it, and for the next hour and a half I lost my money killing time on other machines.
Finally, the woman did her dough and got off the machine. I sidled into the chair she'd been keeping warm for me and stuck in some money. As I'd already done 150 bucks on the other machines, I set my limit at $50 on this one.
I checked out the chart at the top of the machine and saw that I needed to get five satellite dishes in a row to get the top prize. I then looked at the $2,500 emblazoned in red numerals. That would come in mighty handy, I thought, after all the money I'd spent on this trip so far.
The woman who'd been playing the machine hovered as I lit a cigarette and prepared to push the button for the first time.
'I've had no luck on that machine,' the woman told me.
'Haven't you?' I said innocently.
'No,' she lamented. 'Some days they just don't pay.'
'How long were you playing for?' I asked.
'Four hours.'
'Well, maybe you should've tried another machine,' I said, hoping she'd go away.
'Do you mind if I watch you for a moment?' she asked.
I wanted to say no, not only because I hate people hovering around me when I'm playing, but there's nothing worse than seeing someone win on a machine you've just played on. Once I've finished with a machine I move right away from it because I don't want to know.
'Sure,' I said.
The 'buzz' was all around me. I had such a strong feeling that I was going to win, even if not the top prize, at least something.
The maximum play allowed on the machine was five lines, or 25 cents a shot. The fifty bucks I'd put in the machine should keep me going for a while, I thought.
'I'd like five satellite dishes in a row, please,' I said out loud.
I spun once ... nothing. I spun twice ... nothing. A third spin ... five satellite dishes on the bottom line. $2,500.
All the bells and whistles rang and a message flashed to call the attendant. The woman next to me stood stony faced, fixed to the ground like a pillar. Other players congratulated me and once an attendant arrived I raced around the cavernous room and its many machines to find Marg and tell her that I'd won.
I found her and excitedly dragged her back to my machine.
'Oh that's wonderful, darling,' Marg said. 'Couldn't happen to a nicer bloke,' and she gave me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.
The woman who'd been playing the machine broke out of her statue-like pose.
'Are you from around here?' she asked.
'Adelaide,' I answered.
'Well, you're a bastard!' she said and stormed away.
'A rich bastard!' I called out as she disappeared around the aisle of machines. Well, she asked for it. A Scorpio only strikes if you tread on its tail!
'You know what, Marg?' I said. 'Flying Emily and Sophie up here, the whole trip cost me $2,480. I've just won the whole lot back.'
'Well don't you often say to me what you put out you get back?'
'Yeah, and a good deed is repaid two-fold.'
'Well, there you go,' said Marg. 'You're getting something back, and it's about time too! How did you know the machine would pay?' she asked.
'Oh,' I replied, just a "feeling".'
'Scott, I don't like to hassle you while you're on holiday,' said my secretary by phone from Adelaide, 'but I had a rather distraught young lady phone about her boyfriend. You know him and he's tried to commit suicide.'
'Barry,' I said, before she could tell me the name.
'That's him. The girlfriend's name is Lisa and she says that he's completely lost the plot. No one can seem to get through to him and she was hoping that maybe you could give it a try.'
I'd already done that at the lunch with Christian two weeks earlier. I knew Barry was close to the edge then, but I didn't realise he was this close.
'Are you still on the Gold Coast?' Leanne asked. She was talking to me on my mobile so I could be anywhere.
'No, I'm in Brisbane. What's Lisa's number?' I asked.
'It's her work number,' said Leanne. 'She thought it might be best if she talks to you first without Barry knowing.'
Suicide is something I haven't dealt with much, only a couple of times. Two times too many actually, I thought, as I drove back down to the Gold Coast from Brisbane to see Barry.
A few years earlier one of the guys I trained with in karate came to see me for a reading. His name was Craig, and he was the middle brother from a very well-to-do family. Craig always had boundless energy, loved surfing, loved women, loved life.
But what I picked up from him the night he visited was a completely different story. Not only did his energy feel scattered and confused, but when I looked at his cards they were the worst cards that I'd ever read. Even Craig, who was totally unfamiliar with the cards, noticed the run of dark, dismal and foreboding images that he kept picking.
'The cards don't look too good,' Craig said, looking at the ominous images in front of him.
Somehow I managed to highlight the positive, told him to be extra careful out on the roads just as an extra precaution and Craig left reasonably happy. But I was far from happy as I sat alone in quiet thought after he'd left.
I felt he was going to die!
Very suddenly, and very tragically.
But telling Craig that I felt this was something I didn't do. There is no diplomatic way to tell a person such ominous news, and the associated stress to Craig of being told such a thing was something I didn't want to cause. Even if he'd laughed it off, in the back of his mind it would surely have played on him. If I'd had a clear picture of what danger or trouble he might be in I might've approached the subject.
I've often warned people about getting into a particular colour car, or warned them about being a passenger in a car or on a motor bike in certain circumstances. But I wasn't getting any clear picture of what trouble Craig was facing, so rather than pulling a scenario out of thin air, I said nothing, hoping that in time I would see things more clearly and be able to warn him accordingly.
A couple of months after I saw Craig, a group of people from karate got together for a barbecue one Saturday night.
Craig's younger brother Darren, who was eighteen, chatted to me. Darren, always quieter, more reserved than Craig in personality, seemed happy enough, but his aura was paper thin around all areas of his body. He almost had no aura at all, as if his protective layer, his life force, was gone. I asked him if he'd been ill, been laid up with the flu or something similar, but he hadn't.
Days later, Darren hanged himself.
About a year later, Craig followed in his brother's footsteps and did the same.
I parked my car outside Barry's place at Broadbeach, a stone's throw from the centre of Surfers. It was a fine and warm evening with a gentle sea breeze blowing in from the ocean which was two streets away.
Lisa answered when I knocked on the door. She smiled and opened the screen door to let me in.
'Thank you so much for coming, Scott,' she said, a smile covering the sadness I'd heard in her voice when we'd spoken on the phone.
Lisa was a tall and very attractive woman with shoulder length blonde hair. The thought that she might be a model crossed my mind, but I didn't ask her because the comment might come across like a cheap pick-up line.
'Did you tell Barry I was coming?' I asked as we stood in the hallway.
'Yes. I wasn't going to at first because I thought you could surprise him, but he was so depressed I decided he needed something to look forward to.'
'And is he?' I asked. Lisa threw me a questioning glance.
'Looking forward to seeing me?' I added.
'Oh,' said Lisa animatedly. 'I'm sorry, my body's here, but I think my head's off somewhere else at the moment.'
'That's okay, you've been through a lot too.'
My comment brought a more serious expression to her face. She looked to the ground for a second then back to me. 'He hasn't said whether he's looking forward to seeing you or not. He hasn't said much about anything actually. And then when he does I'm really not sure what the right thing is to say back. He gets pretty aggro.'
'Where is he?'
'Out the back. Through there,' she pointed to a lounge room at the end of the hallway. 'I'm going to split for a while so you guys can talk.'
'You don't have to go,' I said.
'No, it's cool,' she said. 'Barry might open up more if I'm not here. I don't want to come back right in the middle and screw it up.'
'He may not say anything at all,' I suggested. 'There are no guaranteed outcomes to dealing with a situation like this.'
Lisa picked up a set of car keys from a small table and smiled. 'If there's anyone he's going to talk to, it's you. Bye.'
I stood in the hallway and sighed. I hoped I wasn't about to disappoint her expectations. I walked down the hallway and through a large lounge, dining and kitchen area. This opened out onto an enclosed patio where Barry sat in a cushioned bamboo lounge chair. He was staring out into the backyard.
He didn't acknowledge me. I walked around him and sat on the edge of a brick barbecue. I deliberately positioned myself just to his right so that I could observe his reactions without blocking his space. Both Barry's wrists were heavily bandaged. Originally a big guy with an athletic, bike rider's physique, he'd lost a lot of weight since I'd seen him only two weeks earlier, and was beginning to look gaunt.
I decided to cut to the chase, giving hellos a miss altogether.
'So things have been pretty bad, huh.' I gave Barry time to respond, but he didn't, preferring to maintain his stare into the backyard.
'You want to tell me about it?' I asked.
Still no response. I noticed a dog kennel to one side of the verandah. 'Where's the dog?' I asked.
'If you're so bloody psychic you tell me!' Barry spewed venomously.
He broke his gaze from the backyard and stared at me to make a point before looking away again.
No matter who's done what, or what they're going through, I always treat people exactly the same. Now I could fully understand Lisa walking on egg shells so she wouldn't upset Barry, and putting up with his negative attitude. But egg shells still break, no matter how carefully you walk on them, so why bother?
'Well if you're going to be so arrogant you can get stuffed!' I said calmly and pointedly.
With that I relinquished my position at the barbecue, and left. I made it all the way to my car and was about to get in when ...
'Scott!'
Barry was standing in the doorway holding the screen door open. I waited.
He came outside letting the door bang behind him and walked to the opposite side of the car. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stared at the ground. 'Please don't go,' he requested softly.
Good, I thought. Exactly the reaction I wanted. 'Feel like going for a drive?' I asked.
I turned left on the Gold Coast Highway and headed south towards Coolangatta and Tweed Heads. Going there and back would be more than enough time for Barry to open up. I didn't turn the radio on as I thought the silence would prompt discussion.
'You must think I'm a real idiot,' Barry finally said.
'If I thought that I wouldn't be here.'
Barry rubbed the knuckle of his left hand's middle finger backwards and forwards across the passenger side window. 'Am I psychic?' he asked.
'Have you ever seen a ghost, known things ahead of time, felt very switched on to the spiritual side of life?' I asked.
'You know I have.'
'That all comes under the heading of psychic.'
'I thought it meant picking the Lotto numbers or reading people's minds.'
'Well, that's an uneducated belief that many people have. "Psychic" is a westernised word that really describes a wide spectrum of spiritual gifts that we're all born with, senses really, just like smelling and hearing. Being "psychic" is far more than the limited perception of someone being a mind-reader.'
Barry rubbed his nose thoughtfully with his right hand bringing one of his bandaged arms into full view. I immediately thought of how much it must have hurt when he cut his wrists.
'I'm scared,' Barry finally said. 'I don't know how you handle it.'
'It's something that gets better with time,' I said, 'like anything.'
'I don't want to handle it,' replied Barry.
Looking at the bandages on his wrists that was obvious. We pulled up at a set of traffic lights.
'Nothing's working out at the moment. I got fired because I couldn't get my act together on the job. Something always blocks my progress in life. I don't finish anything,' Barry said.
A green light and we were on our way again.
'You're being steered away from the material things you desire because there's something on a spiritual level which you're not working through,' I said. 'You're being dealt a lesson in humility.'
There was a pause. Barry said nothing so I kept the conversation going. 'Lisa seems very nice.'
'Yeah,' Barry said, his mind on something else. He let his thoughts flow for a bit longer and then asked, 'Where would I have gone?'
'Sorry?'
'Where would I have gone if I'd died?'
'Well, it wouldn't have been very nice.'
'Hell?'
Not as in the fire and brimstone version, but your spirit would've been trapped on the earth plane in a void, surrounded by those still in the physical world that you love, and you not able to reach them, wanting to turn the clock back, but not being able to.'
Would it have been like that forever?'
'For as long as it took you to burn off the karma of taking your own life,' I said. 'Then you would've gone into what's called "magnificent healing" and then you would've had to come back in another physical body and go through all the same shit again!'
Barry ran his teeth backwards and forwards over his bottom lip a couple of times as he stared ahead in thought. 'So there's no escape,' he finally said.
I didn't need to agree verbally. He already knew.
'I can't handle it,' he said.
'Only 'cause you choose not to.'
While I'm more than sympathetic, I only tolerate people floundering in weakness for so long. 'Barry, no matter what it is that you're finding so hard that you want to check out from this life, you can never escape the lesson. So you either get it right now, or come back time and time again until you do.'
'In your book, you talked about losing it a few times.'
'Yep.'
'Is that why you didn't do yourself in, because you didn't want to come back and do it all again?'
'Partly, and because I don't give up so easily.'
'And I have,' he said, ashamed.
'No you haven't,' I encouraged. 'You're here, aren't you?'
We approached a delicatessen which I knew stocked my favourite iced coffee. I pulled over and parked the car. 'I need a drink. You want anything?' I asked.
'No thanks.'
A minute or so later we were on our way again, and Barry appeared more relaxed than when we'd first gone out so I pushed further.
'Is there any one thing that's set you off?' I asked Barry.
He sighed and rested his feet up on the dashboard. 'No, it's everything,' he answered. 'I can sense people's thoughts even when I haven't met them before. I know their names, jobs, family situations, problems ...' He paused. 'And sometimes the feeling is so strong that I can't bear to be around anyone who's hurting.' Another pause. 'I also have dreams that come true to the point I can count on them. The harder I try to stop it the stronger it becomes. I just can't escape.'
'Then don't try. Get used to it because it's part of you. And what you're sensing in others is the force's way of slapping you around until you acknowledge, accept and utilise your gift. Once you do then you'll evolve to acceptance.'
'I don't know how to evolve,' Barry said.
'Yes you do!' I said pointedly. 'You're not stupid! Just develop a more positive attitude towards what's happening in your life, no matter how bad the situation. Barry, there's a reason behind everything and you need to grab on to that reason and learn from it. And if you look deeper again you'll find a two path situation.'
'What do you mean?'
Well, when you saw the ghost of your brother Phillip, there was a reason why you saw him as well as a reason why he was actually there. You've gone over the edge, Barry, not because you fear the unknown, but because you don't understand it. I know 'cause I've been there. I came out okay and so can you!'
'So is that what karma is, having to work through all this stuff?'
'Pretty well.'
'Phillip said he'd come back, but he still hasn't.'
'He will,' I assured Barry. 'Stop fighting your spiritual reality. Just go with the flow and I bet he comes back.'
'I've been having the wildest dreams,' Barry began. 'I dreamt I was shot in the chest and felt the pain of the bullet. In my dream I said "no, I can't be shot" and I woke up. Then two weeks later a mate of mine was shot in a brawl. He died. Could I have stopped him from being shot?'
'If you were meant to you would've. Barry, you can't feel guilty. Sometimes you're not meant to intervene.'
Barry continued.
'I woke up in the early hours of the morning feeling very distressed. It was 3 a.m. He died at 3 a.m.' Barry shook his head and became agitated. 'I just go crazy trying to make people believe that what I'm going through is real! My friends think I make it up.'
'You can't make anyone believe,' I said, 'so don't waste your time trying.'
The large overhead road signs that indicated Tweed Heads and Coolangatta were right in front of us. I took the Coolangatta turn.
'And what about the six pointed stars I'm drawing,' Barry asked. 'Do they mean anything?'
'A star is a physical representation of the soul,' I answered. 'The more evenly you draw your star the more attuned you are with your soul. The size and width of the points of the star can also represent issues which you are trying to work through.'
Immersed in the conversation we arrived in Coolangatta and I parked the car between Greenmount Resort and the beach.
Because the coastline takes a sharp bend just before here, there's a direct view straight across the bay and back up the coast towards the lights of the Gold Coast which rose like a multi-coloured oasis far off in the distance.
We sat on the beach, Barry leaning forward and resting his bandaged arms against his knees. I sat resting back on my arms for support. The beach is always a great place for a spiritual talk. Barry looked out to the ocean for a couple of minutes and we said nothing. In so many ways, I could relate to what he was going through. Trying to make sense of it all, trying to put the spiritual pieces together ... trying to cope.
Although I could only see Barry's face in profile, I noticed that a tear ran down the side of his face. Then another. He remained quiet and still as a deep well of emotion expressed itself only in his eyes.
He looked to me, his eyes red, his cheeks wet. 'Is this how you felt?' he asked.
'Pretty much so,' I answered as Barry brought his head down to meet his arms which were still resting on his legs. A left and right turn of his head wiped away the tears. He looked up, swallowed and sniffed.
'But,' I added, wanting to encourage him, 'you'll discover in your own way that the highs far outweigh the lows.'
'So when do the highs happen?' he asked.
'You've probably already had some,' I answered, 'but you just aren't in the right frame of mind to see them.'
Barry gazed at the ocean. 'You know how you wrote about John Lennon in your book? I heard somewhere that he'd been warned about the shooting.'
'That's right.'
'So why's he dead?'
'Because sometimes, no matter how much you try to intervene, whatever will be, will be.'
'It sucks,' lamented Barry. 'It's such a waste. I mean, what's the point of all this psychic stuff if it doesn't help someone when they really need it?'
'But it will help someone, Barry,' I said. 'It just won't help everyone.'
My stomach rumbled. I was beginning to feel hungry. I scanned my memory for the nearest take-away in Coolangatta or Tweed Heads, and made a mental note to make a pit-stop at the Tweed Heads Hungry Jacks before driving back up the coast.
'Are spirit guides supposed to take care of you?' Barry asked.
'Watch over you,' I corrected.
'Well, they weren't doing a very good job the other night, were they!'
'Barry. You are responsible for you no matter who guides you!' He needed me to speak to him straight. It was the only way to snap him out of wallowing in self pity.
I gave him time to think about what I'd said before I asked, 'Did Lisa find you?' I knew she had because I'd spoken to her on the phone, but I wanted to see Barry's reaction.
Barry nodded. 'Before I . . .'
He paused, still having difficulty saying what he'd done to himself. '. . . She thought I was a bit off the planet until she read your book. Now she's more relaxed about it all. Well, she was until ...' And his voice trailed away.
'She's still there, Barry. She called me, didn't she?'
'Yeah. She's great.' He sighed and paused. 'You know, there was something that sent me over the edge.'
I waited.
'Three times now when I've been home alone, I'm in bed and I wake to find the sheets are being pulled down! But no one's there!'
'You actually see them being pulled down?'
'Yeah and ... and ... I feel horny when it happens. I tell ya, Scott, that was the end of it for me. I'm horny over something that I don't see, that I don't understand ...' He quietened. 'I just couldn't handle it anymore. I felt so alone I just lost it. I didn't feel I could tell Lisa. I mean, what do I tell her?'
'Barry. There's always an answer. There has to be. This experience with the sheet. Obviously a spirit's moving it. You may have been connected to the spirit in a physical/sexual relationship in a previous life. Also, when men lock into their central spiritual energy they often react physically as you did. It doesn't have to mean a sexual issue, more a sign of spirit.'
'Yeah?' Barry questioned.
I nodded. 'Yeah. There's always an answer, even though sometimes the answer is as strange as the experience.'
I ordered some food at Hungry Jacks. Barry didn't want anything. He seemed better now since we began our little excursion down the coast. If anything he was preoccupied, his mind ticking over and over. But I'd made some progress with him, and as we cruised back towards Surfers Paradise I had the utmost confidence that he wouldn't try to take his life again.
All he needed was time.
And support.
I munched away on my bacon double cheese burger and said 'When you "see" your brother does he have a squarish jaw, dimples on his cheeks when he smiles and straight dark coloured hair brushed to the left hand side?'
That took Barry back a bit. He looked at me still half in deep thought, half curious.
'Uh huh.'
'Well he's been sitting in the back seat since we left Coolangatta,' I said.
Barry turned and looked. 'I don't see him.'
I checked the rear vision mirror. There was his brother, plain as day, smiling at me. 'Well, he's still there,' I said, 'and that's an example of how spirits can selectively reveal themselves to people. Talk to him, Barry,' I encouraged. 'Let your brother support you. That's what he's here for. He doesn't want you on the other side yet.'
'I just want things to be normal,' said Barry.
'Look, Barry,' I began. 'Outside this car, the world is stuffed. In here, with me and your brother, this is normal.
'I know,' Barry sighed, resigned to the truth. 'It's just that so much of what I'm experiencing spiritually seems to always be tied to death, or loss or sadness. Can't I ever see anything good? Sometimes I feel like the guys up there,' he pointed upwards, 'are having a good laugh at treating me like some kind of laboratory experiment!'
I couldn't help chuckling. 'Welcome to the club, Barry.'
He looked at me. 'I hope I can be like you some day,' he added.
Barry, I'm me, and you're you. You're going to excel at things that I don't, and vice versa. And there's some things that we both won't be any good at. The thing is, don't ever try to be like someone else and that goes for anything you do in life, not just all this spiritual stuff. Do the best you can as an individual.
'Be you! Put your stamp on what you do and achieve. Shine in your own light my friend, no one else's. And you can begin by coming with me on a little adventure,' I said.
'Where?' asked Barry.
The road into Lamington National Park wound and weaved its way up into the rainforest. Huge trees and lush undergrowth surrounded us. Sheer cliff-faced hills rose majestically as if racing to be the first to touch the sun which flickered through the trees. At other times, the road wound between hills that blocked the sunlight completely, sending our view of the surrounding country into a hazy half light.
Barry had said little on the journey, seemingly knowing that there was no need to ask questions, that time and experience itself would provide the answers. He wound down his window and craned his head upwards to get a better look at just how high the hills were around us. An evening breeze chilled the mountain air which swept through the car.
'It's unreal,' he said in awe. 'They just rise up out of nowhere. It almost makes you feel insignificant.'
'Mother nature has a habit of doing that,' I said.
It was dark by the time we reached our Swiss chalet style accommodation just after 7.00 p.m. We were staying at a two storey chalet where all we had to bring was food. Blankets, utensils, television, fridge, wood for the fire, cutlery, plates, and everything else, was provided. Nestled deep in the rainforest, there were several similar style lodgings, plus a communal hot spa and the management's residence.
'Listen,' said Barry over dinner. 'You can't hear anything.'
I listened to the silence. 'That's the whole idea. We're only an hour from the Gold Coast, but far enough away to be isolated from everything.'
'It sure is beautiful here,' said Barry. 'How'd you find this place?'
'Same way I find everything. I looked for it.'
After dinner I lit the pot belly stove and read a book while Barry wandered off to have a spa. Every detail of this escape from nine to five was energising him in a way that he said he hadn't felt before. It was good to see him smiling, and finding enjoyment in his physical life again.
As he stood drying his hair with a towel, wearing track pants and a white T-shirt, I noticed the light red raised scars that ran lengthways down his wrists. A medical friend of mine once told me that if a person's serious about cutting their wrists, they'll cut down, not across.
I walked over to Barry who had both his arms up holding the towel as he dried his hair. I took hold of his right arm and pulled it down, so that he was holding the towel with only his left hand. He looked at me quizzically.
'Close your eyes,' I said.
He did so without question. I was glad he trusted me. With his forearm resting on my left hand, I placed my right hand just above the area where he'd cut this wrist. I could see now on closer inspection that the red welts weren't only raised, but that he'd gouged some of his skin out too because hollowed indentations also appeared along the scar line.
'Open your mouth slightly, breathe easy, and don't hold your breath,' I said. I waited. The healing Reiki energy would do the rest.
'Far out!' said Barry. 'My arm feels really warm where you're touching it.'
'I'm not touching it,' I corrected.
He opened one eye to take a quick glance and confirm what I'd told him. On seeing that I was telling the truth, he closed his eye again.
'Shit,' he said taking in the revelation. He took a deep breath, his chest raising and lowering with it. He dropped the towel from his left hand. 'My arm's getting really hot now, like you've just rubbed Deep Heat into it.'
'Uncomfortably hot?' I asked.
'No.'
My hand was getting very hot though. The greater the energy, the greater the heat.
'How do you feel now?' I asked after a few more moments had passed.
'Really peaceful,' he answered. 'Like I'm not even standing here and ...' he searched for the right description, 'I'm tingling too.'
'Good,' I said. 'Now place the injured part of your left arm over your right.'
The scars of his right arm were facing upwards, and he placed the scars of his left arm directly on top of them. I shifted my hand to just above his left arm, directly over where the scars were.
'The heat's going right through both my arms,' said Barry with a mixture of amazement and disbelief. He dropped a couple of swear words at this realisation.
Then ... 'Something's happening,' he said.
'Is the heat moving up your arm and into your body?' I asked.
'Yeah.'
'Good,' I said. 'Keep breathing regular and rhythmic and don't be afraid. Let the feeling move through and heal you. It's really your energy. All I've done is give it a kick start.'
Barry took five deep breaths. 'I don't believe it,' he said. 'I'm buzzing ... I ... I can't believe how good this feels.'
Then ... 'Something else is happening,' he said.
'What?'
'It's like pressure building up in me ... feels really odd.'
'Is the warmth still there?'
'Yeah.'
'And the tingling?'
'Yeah.'
'Just a few more seconds,' I said 'turning up' the energy.
It wouldn't be long now.
And sure enough ... BANG!
Barry's body jolted like it had been struck by lightning. His eyes snapped open.
'What was that?' he asked.
'You know how I told you that the only way to truly learn about the dimensions of spiritual reality is through experience?' I said.
Barry nodded.
'Well, seeing your brother as a ghost is one dimension.' I showed him the palms of my hands, 'And using these is another!'
'How many dimensions are there?' Barry asked.
'There is no finish line,' I said. 'Just as the Universe is eternal, so is Spirit reality.'
'That's scary in a way,' said Barry, 'the no finish line part.'
'Only if you look at it from the outside. Not if you're part of it. Once you discover that there's always something to learn, the limits of where you'll want to go will be endless.'
Barry thought about that for a moment. 'As in "no finish line"?' he asked.
'You got it.'
'But there has to be an end ... somewhere,' reasoned Barry.
I picked the towel off the floor and handed it to him. 'Well if you ever find it, let me know!'
Barry and I were sitting on the floor either side of the pot belly stove. Two white candles were positioned strategically either side of Barry, and another burned just behind me. If you drew a line between the candles it'd form a triangle. The triangle and the pyramid, just like the rainforest, are incredible doorways of healing energy. The triangle represents the 'searching' part of the spiritual and psychic journey, and the pyramid represents knowledge, evolvement and the astral part of the journey. The pyramid also represents spiritual power, energy and secrecy.
Barry noticed how much the flames of the candles positioned around us were flickering, even though there was no breeze. He looked around to check that the door that led outside was closed and placed his hand on the floor to feel if there was a breeze coming in under the door.
'Find what you're looking for?' I asked, bemused.
Barry looked back to me. 'Those candles are going crazy!' he said as the flames continued to flicker wildly. 'I thought there must be a draught.'
'It's not a draught causing this,' I said. 'The higher the combined energy of the triangle, our energy, and those in spirit around us is, the more they'll flicker.'
The candle to Barry's left crackled and a small shaft of black smoke drifted upwards from the flame as it returned to flickering quietly.
'I didn't realise candles could energise with so much power,' said Barry.
'Sometimes the simplest things can give the greatest "signs",' I responded.
'If you stepped out of the triangle, would the candles still flicker like this?' Barry asked.
I stood up and stepped out of the triangle. The flickering continued.
'Like I was saying before,' I said as I stepped back into the triangle and sat down, 'it's the combined spiritual energy of everything here in this room and out there in the rainforest, not just your and my spiritual energy.'
'I like looking into the flame of a candle,' said Barry. 'It's very calming.'
'That's because the flame represents your soul,' I said. 'So watching the flame is a good way of centering your thoughts and feelings. A lot of people do it without realising it.'
The quiet of a night in the rainforest surrounded us. Tomorrow Barry and I would venture out into the forest, for a purpose of course. But tonight was about a different purpose. It was about relaxing, and feeling safe and peaceful, something I don't think Barry had felt for a while. I wanted him to experience what it was like, even only in a small way, to be immersed in spiritual reality and feel good about it.
To not be frightened or scared.
To not feel suicidal.
But to feel, well, the simplest word I can think of to use is 'okay'.
But of course, that was up to Barry.
He'd feel whatever he wanted to, as we all do.
There was no pressure or tension tonight like there had been the last time we'd spoken. I didn't feel the need to bombard Barry with positivity. All I felt the need to do was be there, and let whatever Barry wanted to talk about come out, which it did.
'Have you ever beaten anyone up?' Barry asked referring to my martial arts.
'I wouldn't say "beaten",' I answered, putting some more kindling in the pot belly.
'Punched their lights out then?' Barry suggested.
I procrastinated over getting into this conversation. It wasn't often I accessed this particular memory. 'I broke a guy's jaw once. He had to have it wired. Another guy, I broke his nose.'
'Did they pick on you?'
'No, the first guy I caught breaking into my car, and the second guy stuck his hand up between the legs of a lady friend of mine while we were walking through a pub so I smacked him one.'
'What's the worst situation you've been in?'
'Me and two others against seventeen, a gang of kids who were spraying graffiti on the wall of a library one night. We interrupted them as we were walking past. 'I took one hit, got a bloody nose. That was it. Thirty seconds and it was all over.'
'Didn't you get some kind of warning though, like sense something was going to happen before you came across these people?' Barry asked.
'In a way. As we were walking down the street I had the strongest feeling that we should cross over and walk on the other side. If we had we still would've walked past them, but not so close.'
'So you didn't follow your gut feeling.'
'No, and your gut feeling is a greater part of martial arts than fighting. Fighting is only ten per cent of being a martial artist. The rest is awareness.'
'Of what?'
'Everything.'
The energy I'd given Barry earlier had been on a rather large scale. He didn't realise at the time just how much beyond what he saw and felt had happened, had happened! When my hands were either side of where he cut his wrists, as well as sending him healing energy I also sent his subconscious a message, a key if you like, a key to open the doors to everything that Barry hid behind spiritually. I wouldn't do this for just anybody, only someone who'd been down the eventful spiritual road I had, someone who was already quite evolved, but frightened, just as I had been.
The jolting Barry had experienced was part of the process. From that moment on it was just a matter of time ... What is that noise? My eyes adjusted to the darkness. The noise had woken me, an erratic moaning, like an animal caught in a trap. It wasn't coming from outside, but inside. I walked out of my bedroom and into the main living area of the cabin. I looked up to Barry's room on the second level. He was making the noise.
'I can't do this, please no!' Barry called out, terrified. Then he spoke in another language and before quietening again, he resumed the erratic moaning.
I returned to the warmth of my bed, rested my head against the soft white pillow, pulled the blankets up around my chin and smiled. The energy I'd sent Barry was doing its job.
Athletes often say: 'No pain, no gain'. Well, it's the same when you're evolving spiritually.
Barry's moaning became louder, then ebbed again.
First I'd get him through the pain.
Then I'd get him to the gain!
Barry was up, dressed and out when I woke in the morning. There weren't any dirty plates in the sink so I assumed he hadn't had breakfast. The car keys were still on the table so he hadn't done a runner. If all the dreaming he'd been doing the night before had done what I felt it had, he was off in a quiet corner of the rainforest having a good think.
And sure enough, that was the scenario. He returned to the cabin soon after I'd showered and dressed.
'Hi,' he said, somewhat subdued.
'Hi,' I said from the kitchen table. 'How'd you sleep?' I asked, tucking into my breakfast.
'Yeah, good,' Barry answered.
Pull the other one, I thought.
'So what are the plans for today?' he asked.
'There's a couple of nature trails that go into the rainforest,' I said. 'I thought we'd head off down one of them.'
'Sounds good,' said Barry.
I didn't question him about the dreams I'd heard him having the night before. I knew that soon enough he'd tell me about them.
'You better bring some warm clothes too,' I warned. 'We're going to be out there until dark.'
The trails we could choose from were of varying distances of between three and seventeen kilometres in length. I chose the seventeen kilometre trail. I'd walked it before and it'd take the whole day to follow the winding trail down into the tree filled valley and along a course that would bring us out just along from where we were standing now. It's an easy enough walk in the beginning because it's downhill. But the walk on the way back is an endurance test because it's a gradual climb to the top of the valley.
The trail is very narrow, and Barry followed closely behind me as we set out.
It was a beautiful day. Sunlight shone down through the trees from a clear blue sky, and the temperature was in the high twenties. It was humbling to be in a place like this, surrounded by beauty that man could never create, but unfortunately spends a lot of time destroying.
The trail wound and weaved its way down into the valley, sunlight becoming more sparse the deeper we went. At some stages I couldn't help but jog through some of the areas because the incline was so steep.
I wondered how Barry would handle the second half of the walk, the part where it was uphill all the way for eight and a half kilometres.
Our conversation was spasmodic, both of us caught up in our own thoughts. We crossed a creek, stepping across large flat stones that the water surged around. We had lunch sitting on huge boulders at a waterfall, the gentle sound of the water cascading over a sheer cliff accompanied by the bird and insect sounds of the rainforest.
After lunch the trail flattened out as we reached the bottom of the valley. It stayed that way for a short distance before taking a sharp turn in direction and the climb back to the top of the valley began. It would take us probably twice as long to get up as it had to get down.
Much of the trail now was a gradual climb, but some sections were very steep. Barry and I were making more frequent stops, drinking heaps of water to replace what we were sweating out. The sun had shifted westerly and while it was still a few hours till night, it was dull daylight that made its way down to us through the canopy of the trees.
'How much further is it?' Barry panted as he rested against a tree stump.
'A while yet,' I said.
He didn't look overly impressed and took a deep breath, letting it out quickly. Seventeen kilometres doesn't seem such a long way until you walk it. The first time I'd walked this trail I couldn't believe how long it took to get out of the valley. I had continually kept searching for any sign that the exit was near, and figured every fifteen minutes or so that it couldn't be much further.
But it was then.
And it was now.
But what I was putting Barry through was deliberate. A bit like Mr. Myagi in the Karate Kid movie when he made Daniel 'paint the fence, wash the car, sand the deck'. Daniel couldn't understand what any of that had to do with learning martial arts, but it all played its part in the centering of his spirit as he would eventually learn.
It was the same here today with Barry. I knew the walk would be tough. But I wanted him to gasp for breath. I wanted him to fight to get back to the top. I wanted him to feel the energy of nature, the rainforest, and life.
I wanted him to survive!
We trekked on.
I too was feeling the worse side of the uphill climb and chastised myself for having given in to my on again, off again habit of smoking. I'd been smoking again for about four months after having given up for three years. No one's perfect!
I looked ahead and the trail continued to wind upwards, disappearing amongst the trees we were yet to reach. Barry was panting quite loudly now. We rested again.
'How much further?' he asked.
'Should be soon,' I answered. But I knew it wasn't. Maybe another two hours' walk. It would be just after dark by the time we reached the end.
On we pressed.
One and a half hours and frequent stops later we were about a kilometre before the end of the trail and Barry could basically go on no further. I wasn't that far behind him either but was putting on a brave face.
He sat down exhausted. 'I don't know if I can do this,' he told me.
'Well what are you going to do?' I asked. 'Stay in the rainforest all night?'
Barry didn't answer. He leant back against a tree and sighed, his face glistening from perspiration, a film of dirt down one side.
It was beginning to get dark now. The sounds of the rainforest were changing and an eerie mist was beginning to form.
'It's not that far!' I reassured him. 'Now let's get out of here before it gets too dark!'
'Jesus!' muttered Barry and he dragged himself to his feet.
On we went.
Now it was really getting dark, the eerie mist encircled us. Barry had reached the stage where he was panting continually, and struggling for air. It reminded me of how I felt during one of my black belt gradings. About an hour into the grading, with hundreds of push-ups and sit-ups behind me, and twenty rounds of fighting done, the instructor yelled: 'One hundred more sit-ups and push-ups. Now!' And from somewhere within, I found the strength to do them. The same way Barry had to find his own strength now.
I stood beside him.
'Centre yourself,' I encouraged. 'I'm just as tired as you are and I smoke. You don't. If anyone's gasping around here it should be we!'
Barry looked to me, his eyes reflecting an urge just to collapse in a heap.
'Are you going to give up?' I asked.
Barry gasped a couple of times. 'No,' he answered half heartedly.
'Then calm down. Focus your energy on relaxing your breathing. Air is your life force. Use it!'
'How?' he asked.
'Close your eyes and just do it!' I said firmly.
He closed his eyes.
'Now remember the way you felt last night when I did that healing on you?'
'Yes.'
'Bring back the feeling. That energy's still there. It's your energy. Bring it back. Let that energy calm you ... breathe through that energy ... relax ... relax
Gradually Barry's gasping subsided.
'Now keep that feeling going, and open your eyes.'
He slowly opened them.
'How do you feel?' I asked.
'Better.'
'Now it's not much further,' I said. 'Are we going to make it or are we going to stay here?'
'We're going to make it,' Barry answered.
'Good,' I said.
And on we went. I made Barry take the lead so I could keep an eye on him. We were both knackered and breathing hard as we climbed the last part of the trail out of the valley, but a quarter of an hour later we came to the end of the seventeen kilometre trail.
It was dark now. Stars sparkled in the skies above the trees. The rainforest murmured with different sounds now, almost secrecy.
Barry and I sat on the wooden railing by the exit while we regained our energy.
'We made it,' said Barry happily. 'I didn't figure it would be that long or so difficult,' he added. 'I mean it was fun going down, but it was hell coming up!'
'A bit like life, isn't it,' I said.
Barry nodded and smiled. 'Yeah.'
'And just when you think you can't make it ... you can,' I added.
Barry nodded again. The deeper meaning of everything was obviously sinking in. I hoped the chance of another suicide attempt during any future depressions he might have was receding.
'Well,' I said standing up and dusting myself off. 'We only have about a half a K walk back to the cabin and it's flat all the way.'
Barry stood up. 'Piece of piss,' he said.
We walked out into an open area, through a car park and back onto a bitumen road, walking side by side along the edge of the road. Nothing was said for a couple of minutes. Then ...
'There's a lookout just near here,' I said. 'Just over there,' I pointed. 'The view you get from it down into New South Wales is unreal, nothing but trees for as far as the eye can see. I'll take you there tomorrow.'
'Okay,' said Barry, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and sniffed.
I looked at him.
He was crying. We kept walking although the pace had slowed somewhat.
'You want to talk about it?' I asked.
Barry sniffed again. He was struggling with the emotion of what he was feeling. But he wasn't in a depressive mood. He was angry!
'I dreamt about it last night,' he began. Barry cleared his throat again and shook his head in an effort to push back the emotion. 'I dreamt about my suicide. But not this one ... I'd done it before
He shook his head at the senselessness of it all, almost as if trying to shake the memory away.
'Where was that life?' I asked.
'Germany ... World War Two.'
He walked around in a circle and swore.
A car approached on our side of the road and we moved closer to the edge to let it pass, its headlights glaring at us as it did.
Barry stood still.
He didn't have to tell me anymore. In an instant I'd 'seen' what he had. 'You worked in the concentration camps, didn't you,' I said.
Barry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded.
'And what was your job there?' I asked.
He began walking back and forth in front of me.
'What was your job there?' I asked again.
'Don't push me, man!' Barry lashed out and shoved me back.
He was quite forceful and I back-tracked about six paces.
Barry's aura was radiating mainly black and red.
He was angry!
If he came for me I was prepared to deck him.
Pushing me away, I allowed.
Trying to hit me I wouldn't.
And I hoped it wouldn't come to that.
And it didn't.
Barry let out a cry of hopelessness, collapsing on his knees by the side of the road. His arms and hands covered his bowed head. His body arched with deep sobbing.
I slowly walked over to him and squatted down in front of him. 'What was your job in the concentration camps?' I asked again.
'I herded ... innocent people ... to the ... to the gas chambers,' he managed to say through his grief.
Barry's anger left and remorse replaced it. The pain of his past life memory came out with every tear.
'You couldn't handle it, so you killed yourself back then,' I said. 'But it's okay ... that was then ... this is now. You've chosen a heavy duty spiritual path this time to make up for it.'
Barry looked at me, his eyes glistening with tears.
'Don't you see, Barry? You tried to kill yourself in this life not because of the spiritual path you're on this time, but because of the path you followed in your last life! You're not meant to take your life this time round Barry. That would be repeating what you've already done for a reason that doesn't exist in this life. You're meant to grow and evolve and do some good with your life this time.'
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
'Don't waste what you've got, Barry. Use it ... Okay?'
He nodded. 'Okay.'
'Come on,' I said, helping him to his feet.
We stood on the road for a moment while he collected himself. He was calmer now.
'You okay?' I asked.
'Yeah.'
And with that we continued our walk back to the cabin.
I woke from my sleep that night and stared at the ceiling. Tilting my head I looked towards the end of my bed, and there was Yuri, his body glowing the phosphorescent blue/white coloured aura that always accompanies him on one of his ghostly visits.
He smiled, and nodded.
I sensed his approval of what I'd worked through with Barry. Yuri disappeared and the bedroom returned to darkness. I closed my eyes and encouraged sleep to come again.
The UFO flew effortlessly side by side with the car on the country highway. The digital clock inside the car read 11.11 p.m.
A quick glance at the speedo. One hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. The car was moving so fast to outrun the UFO that its wheels seemed to skim above the bitumen. Another glance out the driver's window. The UFO remained a silent partner, sailing tandem with the car through the inky blackness of the country.
The speedo crept up to one hundred and fifty-eight kilometres an hour.
But why? Why try to outrun it?
I'm not afraid of it.
And who else is with me?
Someone else is in the car!
I looked to see who it was.
The car was filled with bright white light!
And then ...
I woke up on a flight from Brisbane to Adelaide. As I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and looked out the window for an idea of location the pilot saved me the trouble of any further speculation by announcing that we'd begun the descent into Adelaide.
I arrived with three hours to spare before I was to conduct a sold-out seminar on ghosts. The pressure had been on for quite a while to hold a seminar so that people could not only talk about their experience(s), but find comfort in the fact that other people were experiencing similar events.
As people become more aware of just how many have 'ghostly' experiences, and regularly too, they won't be so afraid. Out of all the 'strange' experiences there are on a spiritual level, seeing a ghost is one of the most frequent.
Seeing a ghost can affect a person deeply, especially when the ghost is a loved one. It's hard enough to deal with someone you love passing over, let alone dealing with the emotions of them coming back. Some find this traumatic while others take it in their stride.
As I drove to the venue I thought about Barry. I wished I'd had more time to spend with him but I felt confident he'd take some positive steps forward now.
When I took to the stage I understood immediately why the organisers had decided a bigger hall would be better next time. Over three hundred people were jammed here. Those who couldn't get seats flanked the walls.
The stories were numerous: a wife who caught her husband in bed with the ghost of his ex-wife; a cattle station north of Broken Hill where a pitchfork has been flying around the barn ever since a station hand fell off the hayloft and impaled himself on the pitchfork; the ghost of a girl who was killed when run down by a car often seen lying on the road, and when passers-by stop to help her, she asks to be taken home, and then disappears.
Just like the Port Wakefield ghost. Port Wakefield is ninety kilometres north west of Adelaide on a main highway. A young man in uniform hitches a ride along the highway, and people pick him up. He asks to be taken to see his mum in Adelaide, and then disappears.
'So has anyone picked up the Port Wakefield ghost?' I asked.
'I have,' said a young man standing up. Aged in his early twenties, very tanned and with blond sun-streaked hair he obviously took advantage of the surfing on Yorke Peninsula.
'Me and a mate were coming back from surfing on "Yorkes",' he explained. 'We were just out of Port Wakefield at about midnight when we see this guy hitchhiking.'
'What did he look like?' I asked.
'Around my age and he was wearing what I thought was an army uniform. Anyway, we wouldn't normally pick up hitchhikers, but it was a cold rainy night. So we pull over and offer the guy a lift. He thanks us and gets in the back of the panel van. I ask him where he's going and he says: "To see my Mum in Adelaide".
'We drive a little further and I ask the guy his name. He didn't answer. We look around ... and he's gone ... and we're doing a hundred and twenty.'
'He does it to a lot of people,' I explained. 'Very friendly. Means you no harm, but does the disappearing act.'
'He looked so real, but,' said the young man in classic surfie slang. 'And, it didn't click until after he was gone but it was raining when he got in the van, and his uniform wasn't wet.'
'How did your mate handle it?'
'He freaked out big time! That was about two months ago. I tried to get him to come tonight but he wouldn't.'
'I've seen him too!' said a lady as she stood. 'I often visit my parents in Port Wakefield. I drive up from town, it doesn't take long. Anyway I'm going back to Adelaide, it's about 11.15 p.m., a very dark night—no moon, no stars, pitch black sky—no other traffic on the road.
'Soon after leaving Port Wakefield I noticed the dark shape of a person standing on the side of the road hitching a ride. I didn't have time to stop because I was almost past him when I saw him. But when I looked back, he was gone.'
A flow was happening now, and one story was leading to another.
'My dead grandfather used to visit me often when I was a kid,' said a young woman in her early twenties standing up. 'I thought it was wonderful.'
'Did he talk to you?' I asked.
'No,' she said, smiling as she recalled the time. 'Just stood there and grinned, then turned and walked away.'
Another lady stood.
'Things got a little crazy when I rented a house. I couldn't understand why when I went to the letter box I'd often find my mail thrown all around the yard. At first I blamed kids. But then I spoke to an elderly neighbour who'd lived next door and he told me that the lady who once owned the house had died with a broken heart waiting for a letter saying when her husband was returning from the Vietnam war. He was never listed as killed in action and the letter never came. It looks like even on the other side she wants the letter box left clear just in case.
'Apparently the same routine with the mail happened to the previous tenants and they saw the ghost of the old lady sitting at the table in the kitchen of the house. That's what made them move out.'
'Are you going to move out if you see her?'
'Are you kidding? I'll make a cup of tea and sit down and talk to her,' said the lady jovially.
I noticed a latecomer enter the room via the doors at the back of the hall. It was a friend of mine, Matthew, someone who I'd shared a lot of spiritual experiences with, but whom I hadn't seen for six months.
Matthew, his wife Anne and I had been chased by a UFO at Lake Bonney in South Australia's Riverland back in 1980. He almost died in 1981 from a brain disorder, and ever since that time he'd been coming out with the most mind boggling information on things like the prophecies of Nostradamus and the future of the world. Almost living in each other's hip pockets throughout the 1980s, in recent years we'd drifted apart, and Matthew was the last person I expected to see here. He stood at the back of the hall and even from the stage I could see the lack of expression on his face. Matthew never gave anything away. A deep thinking Aquarian, he moved in his own world.
'Anyone else have trouble when they moved into a house?' I asked.
'I did,' said a man aged around thirty. He stood up. 'I bought an old house and renovated it. It'd been previously owned by an old lady who'd lived there for over fifty years, and she'd never redecorated. So when I moved in things were pretty old and worn out. First to go was the floral patterned carpet, and the most depressing brown wallpaper you could ever imagine. Well, once the renovations were completed I got up one morning and found pieces of the old kitchen wallpaper stuck back on the newly painted wall.
'Then I saw the ghost of who I assumed was the woman who used to own the house standing by the wall. She was staring at me and shaking her head. I was pretty freaked out by this so I called in a psychic friend who tuned in to the woman. The first thing the friend tells me is: "The lady who lived here hates the fact you tore down her favourite wallpaper"!'
'How long ago was that?' I asked.
'About five years ago. Some friends did some Reiki on the woman to help her go to the light. It took a couple of months but eventually she left.'
The man sat down.
'Scott, may we share a story with you?' asked a man in his early forties. He stood and gave a supportive hand to the lady sitting next to him as she stood too. I assumed she was his wife and she looked very sad, keeping her attention focused over the heads of the people sitting in front of her. Her husband cleared his throat before he spoke. 'Our twelve year old daughter died of leukemia last year which was devastating, not only for us, but for her older brother as well. One night we woke to find our daughter's ghost standing at the foot of our bed. She told us to go to her brother because he was in trouble. So we rushed to his bedroom and found that ... immersed in the grief of losing his sister, he'd taken an overdose. Even in the hospital our daughter stood by his bed.'
His wife nodded supportive confirmation.
'And in the end she spoke to our son to assure him that she's okay, and that he should continue on with his life with no regret or remorse. Her visit has helped us deal with our daughter's death more positively too.' They sat down and the hall was quiet. The story had touched everyone.
After the official part of the evening was completed it took about an hour to work my way through all the people who were waiting to speak with me. I could be a while I told Matthew after coming off stage.
'I'll wait,' he said reaching into his top pocket for a packet of cigarettes after which he went outside.
I found him sitting on the steps of the seminar hall, watching the occasional car drive past. I sat next to him.
'Interesting stories,' Matthew said, dragging on a cigarette. It was a statement rather than a question.
The last time Matthew had actually come looking for me would've been at least ten years ago. I wondered what was so important.
'How have you been?' Matthew asked.
'Good.'
We weren't exactly jumping up and down with excitement to see each other. Distance had grown between us and you could tell.
'How's Anne?' I asked.
'Good,' said Matthew.
I figured we'd get past one word answers sooner or later. I looked up and down the street to see if any of the parked cars were candidates for being the latest one that Matthew might be driving. I assumed he still changed cars faster than his underwear. I saw a light coloured GTS Monaro around the 1969, 1970 mark. It was very Matthew.
'The Monaro yours?' I asked.
'Yep.
I pictured the HQ Monaro I used to have. Deep purple in colour with mags and spoilers adding to its lairy look.
'You don't see many Monaros around anymore,' I said.
'Well, that one was a bargain,' Matthew said nodding towards his GTS. 'Once I fix it up I'll triple what I paid for it.'
At last, our conversation was expanding. I wasn't tired after the flight back from Queensland but was a little brain dead from the seminar and didn't feel like entering into any series of twenty questions that Matthew might spring on me.
'So what's up?' I asked.
I half expected Matthew to tell me that he'd finally left Anne. He'd been threatening to do so for a long time now—'go bush' as he put it.
'Are you able to get Saturday fortnight off from the radio show?' Matthew asked.
'I'm off that night anyway,' I said. 'The football's on.'
'I want you to meet Anne and me at Barmera that night,' Matthew said.
'What's the occasion?' I asked.
'We need to go back to the lake,' he answered.
Gee, that's a first, I thought. Normally Matthew responded to questions with: 'I can't tell you.'
'The three of us,' Matthew added.
'Why?' I asked. 'Are we going to get chased by a UFO again?'
And as I said those words an image bolted into my brain—the repetitive dream I'd been having about speeding along in a car and being chased by a UFO.
Matthew stubbed his cigarette.
'Will you come?' he asked.
'Where do we meet?' I asked.
'Outside the Barmera Hotel. 9.00 p.m.'
A few nights later, on the Saturday before I was going to meet Matthew and Anne in the Riverland, I went to my favourite Thai restaurant with a talented friend of mine who'd become known as 'Psychic Toni' through her radio program on SAFM. We often had dinner together on a Saturday night before I went into 5AA for a 9.00 p.m. start of Psychic Saturday Night.
We entered the restaurant and waved hello to the staff who were standing at the bar. As Toni and I were regulars they didn't rush to show us to a table because it was never very busy so early and we always sat at the same table every week, table ten actually because the number has an extremely metaphysical vibration.
Usually on paying the bill I'd book the table for the following week just to make sure the staff knew we were coming. But the week before I didn't make a booking and when Toni and I walked through an archway to where our table was in our favourite spot near a window, there was a reserved sign on the table.
'Did you book?' Toni asked.
'No. They must have reserved the table for us out of habit.'
So we parked ourselves at the table. A few moments later a waiter approached who we hadn't seen before. He reminded me of Yuri. He clutched a notebook and pencil and seemed rather flustered.
'I sorry,' he began in broken English, 'but table not book for you.'
I looked to Toni. She looked to me. Isn't it silly how routine can play such a large part in your life. But with the vigour of a United Nations meeting, neither of us wanted to give up our table. If it had been one of the regular staff who was serving us we might have come clean, but as it was someone who didn't know us, Toni and I set out to hold on to table ten at all cost.
'But we have a regular booking for this table,' I said using a quite friendly tone.
He scanned his notebook as he asked: 'You make booking last week?'
'I made the booking,' said Toni intervening, 'under the name of McCallum,' and she spelt the surname so there'd be no misunderstanding.
I looked at Toni wondering where the hell she pulled that name from as it certainly wasn't her surname.
'Ahhh,' said the waiter. 'McCallum, table ten.' He nodded, smiled and removed the plastic reserved sign from the table and hurried off happy that the issue had been resolved.
'McCallum?' I questioned.
'I got a "buzz" about it,' she said with assured defiance.
'But that means there really is someone called McCallum who's booked this table tonight.'
'Well, I'm sure they'll enjoy sitting somewhere else,' Toni said coyly.
One of the regular staff then came to the table, a very attractive Asian woman, sleek and slender in a tight fitting, floor length yellow dress. She spoke better English than the waiter. 'Sorry about the mix-up with the table,' she said. 'Usually you (she gestured to me) make the booking and we were looking for your name.'
'Don't worry about it,' I said, feeling just a tinge of guilt.
'You want the usual?' she asked knowing we ordered the same thing every week.
'Thank you,' I replied, 'and Coke.'
'And I'll have a beer,' said Toni.
About fifteen minutes after we arrived, Toni looked up from our entree and said: 'Don't look now, but I think Mr. and Mrs. McCallum just arrived.' She continued to eat, at the same time trying to contain a wry smile.
'What are they doing?' I asked without turning around to take a look.
'The waiter and the girl who served us are standing at the bar looking at us and scratching their heads while the McCallums seem rather bewildered as to what's going on.' Pause. 'Now they're being shown to another table, but they can't stop staring at us.'
'Well, they'll never figure it out,' I said. We settled back into beef satays in peanut sauce. 'Have you seen Matthew lately?' Toni asked. 'Yes, the other night, actually. First time in ages.' 'How was he?'
'Okay. Wants me to meet him and Anne in the Riverland next Saturday.'
'Did he have a go at you like he normally does?'
'No. Pleasant change.'
Usually Matthew would tell me off for something I did or didn't say on the radio show, or make it known that he knew things about spiritual matters which I was yet to be privy to.
'Have you ever told him that you dislike him going on like that?' Toni asked. 'He probably knows,' I replied. 'How does Anne handle Matthew?' 'Well, she's been a born again Christian for a few years now. I guess that's how she handles it. It's like being caught in the crossfire when you visit them. She goes on about the Holy Ghost and God and what they do at the church, and Matthew has continual digs at everything she says, in between having goes at me.' 'Does he do it nastily?'
'No, that isn't Matthew's nature. He's more a mixture of mysterious seriousness and candid bluntness.' 'So he doesn't agree with the path Anne's taken?' 'Not really.' 'Or with your path?'
'I wouldn't say that he disagrees with my path. I'd say that he ...' and I thought about what I wanted to say and the best way to put it. 'It's almost like he feels like he wants to be the one in charge, the authority figure,' I finally said. 'He can be very critical of what I do. He still talks in riddles, throws little tit-bits of information out and then tells me that I'm not ready to know any more. Matthew likes to be the person who's seemingly holding all the cards.'
I paused.
'He underestimates me, and I've told him that. Not that I think I'm better than him, not at all. But I'm no fool either!
'We used to have a lot of fun. I mean, it was heavy too, but it'd be light and entertaining in between. Anne would read the tea leaves or the cards. She was really good at it. We'd laugh, and make jokes. Now it's really strained. It's like the three of us have gone off in different directions, and when we come together, it's just not the same any more.'
'So you avoid it altogether?' Toni supposed.
'Yeah,' I answered. 'It's all too hard. Times change. We've changed. It sucks but that's the way it is.'
'And then out of the blue Matthew turns up,' Toni said as her beer arrived. My eyes met hers. She was studying me.
'What?' I asked.
'Did Matthew ever talk about his dreams?' she asked.
'Sure.'
'Did he ever tell you he dreams about eagles?'
I nodded.
'And what happened in the dream?' asked Toni.
I scanned my thoughts for recollection. 'Gee, that's a long time ago. Uhhh, something about soaring into golden sunsets and being able to talk while being in the physical form of an eagle.'
'And did you ever see an eagle around the same time?'
'I don't remember.'
'But Scotty, you're a writer, you remember everything,' she replied with condescending candour.
'Well,' I began as I turned back the mental pages of the past. 'Yeah, I did see an eagle. But not a real one. Matthew advertised a car for sale and a prospective buyer offered him much less than he asked for it. This really angered Matthew so he rolled the car into the street, poured gunpowder over it, and set it on fire. A large area of the boot was blackened from the flames and the blackened paintwork formed an almost perfect picture of an eagle in flight.'
'You guys saw a UFO together at Lake Bonney, didn't you,' Toni said.
'Uh huh.'
'Well. The eagle is a sign that you're onto something very big spiritually. Have you seen a UFO with Matthew since that time at Lake Bonney?'
'No.'
'Well, be ready because I think you will!' She paused. 'And something else too. Someone's going to follow you. I don't know why or when, but the situation's around you now so be careful!'
Toni's warning alarmed me. Her accuracy with predictions, particularly where I was concerned, was always spot on.
'But why would someone want to follow me?' I asked.
'Be aware and you'll be okay,' Toni assured me. She could see my concern. 'You'll be fine as long as you remember my warning when you're out and about.'
'I'm not likely to forget it,' I said. 'And now I've got one for you. I think our radio shows are going to get the chop.'
'I feel that too,' said Toni.
'Doesn't make sense to axe either though,' I said. 'They're super popular.'
'Maybe we're wrong then,' said Toni.
But we weren't. In my case, six weeks later I received a phone call on Friday to meet with the general manager on Monday. The cards, my gut feeling, everything told me the radio show was over. But my producer couldn't see the logic in that, considering it was one of 5AA's most popular programs. So even though I wrote 'the last Psychic Saturday Night' on the running sheet, the team kept our professionalism and didn't say goodbye, or thanks for listening, or this might be our last show. We said nothing because there was just a chance I was being called in for something else and we didn't want to shaft the station if shafting us wasn't what they had in mind.
But shafting it was because on the Monday morning Psychic Saturday Night was axed, gone, no goodbyes, no thanks, just hand in your keys and go.
'That's it?' I questioned. 'We don't even get to say goodbye?'
No.
Changes in programming were given as the reason for the axing of Psychic Saturday Night, not that I believed that, of course. You have to roll with the punches in show business, which we did. What pissed me off the most though was the total disregard 5AA had for the show's loyal audience. And the station downplayed the popularity of the show, there was only a handful of people unhappy at its axing, which wasn't true. I heard continual complaints about 5AA's shabby handling of listeners who phoned or wrote a letter and received no reply.
It didn't surprise me.
In hindsight, isn't it interesting how I was taken off the air but I'm still being heard! As for Toni's show on SAFM it was axed a couple of months later in January 1997.
Two nights after Toni warned me about being followed, I took Deborah, an old friend, out for dinner. It was a mate's birthday and we were throwing him a party. I thought Deborah might like to come along. She's a childhood friend who I don't get the chance to catch up with too often and her life isn't exactly a bed of roses, so she always looks forward to any time that I can get her out of the house.
From the time Deborah and I arrived at the restaurant I sensed that she was on edge. She'd recently gone through some trying times with her sixteen-year-old daughter. A single muni, she was also raising two young boys on her own.
A guy she'd been going out with was abusive and it had taken a long time for her to get up the courage to break up with him. Unhappy at her decision, he continued to make threatening phone calls, or bang on the windows in the early hours of the morning.
The smallest actions can often be clues, and my inner voice told me that there was a reason why I was seated with my back to the restaurant windows at this dinner.
I became immersed in conversation and forgot about our seating arrangements for a while. That was until Deborah who was sitting opposite me kept looking past me to the windows. I didn't have to look for myself to figure out what was going on.
'He's followed us to the restaurant, hasn't he,' I said referring to the ex-boyfriend.
'He's been walking past and peering in through the window for about ten minutes,' confirmed Deborah.
It was then that I turned around to see her scruffy, bearded ex-boyfriend checking us out. When I spotted him he moved away from the window.
'You knew he'd do this, didn't you,' I said.
'He wanted to see me tonight,' explained Deborah. 'Talk things over. I told him I was going out with you.'
'And that went down like falling bricks?'
'He thinks we're going out with each other. He doesn't understand how we can be "just friends".'
I'd met the ex-boyfriend a couple of times. He knew that Deborah and I had grown up together, and that we kept in touch. I was no threat.
'Well, screw him,' I said, tucking my serviette into my shirt as our meals arrived.
'Screw who?' asked Sean the birthday boy loudly across the table.
His wife elbowed him in the ribs to let him know that she didn't appreciate the comment.
'Someone give Sean another beer to shut him up, will you,' I said in an effort to change the subject.
It worked.
Seated to the other side of me was one of Sean's friends who'd flown over from Sydney especially for the occasion. Unbeknown to me this gentleman was a policeman, and I started picking up 'things' about him. During the course of the evening someone asked him what he did for a living to which I jumped in and said: 'He's a cop.'
Well, that spun our man in blue out, and he asked if Sean had told me his profession. I said he hadn't and Sean backed me up.
'You'll get used to Scotty,' Sean warned the policeman whose name was Daryl. 'He's a bit weird!'
The birthday dinner continued and when everyone else was occupied in conversation I said to Daryl: 'You were very distressed about an accident you attended recently. I can "see" you walking along the road looking for someone's head!'
Well he just about coughed up all of his spaghetti marinara with that comment, and yes, a girl who'd been a passenger in a car which rolled had been decapitated when she was thrown out of the car. Daryl and his partner were the first patrol car on the scene. By now, Daryl was no longer sceptical and was questioning me thoroughly, as a true cop would, about how I did what I did, and how long had I been doing it for. His opening up to me helped me see other things and I said: 'There's a case you've been involved with. You're questioning whether a girl you found drowned in a river. Well, she didn't. She was put in the river after she drowned in a swimming pool. Someone panicked. It wasn't murder, it was an accident ... Marg ... Margaret ... Maggie ... her first name's Maggie ... I can "see" a vehicle she was in—a blue four door car—they parked off the road by the river and carried her down.'
'They?' asked Daryl.
'Her friends. Two guys and a girl. They're scared. They don't want to be blamed.'
The whole table was listening by now.
'Was the girl's name Maggie?' Sean asked Daryl.
Daryl's face was somewhat ashen. 'Yeah.'
'Can we change the subject, please?' asked a female guest. 'This conversation is giving me the creeps!'
'I think it's fascinating,' said Sean's wife.
'Tell us who's gonna win the next Nobel Peace Prize, Scotty,' said a friend in a smug manner he'd had all the years I'd known him.
'Well, it sure as hell won't be you!' I replied.
The dinner went on, the cake was cut, and most of the guests at the table got drunk, except for me, Deborah, and Daryl who was too stunned to be inebriated.
'How do you know?' he kept asking throughout dinner. 'How do you know?'
I dropped Deborah home around 10.30 p.m., and went inside to say hi to her daughter who informed us that the ex-boyfriend had given up peering through the window of the restaurant and had advanced to driving past Deborah's house four times in the past ten minutes.
Deborah was putting on a brave face but I could see the situation was getting to her. After the stories she told me about his behaviour, I could understand why.
'Do you think he's going to come in once I've gone and cause trouble?' I asked.
'He could do anything,' Deborah answered.
'So call the police,' I said.
'But he hasn't done anything,' she answered, lighting a nervous cigarette.
'Look I don't "feel" him coming in here,' I assured Deborah. 'Maybe when he sees that I'm not staying he'll be happy and go home.'
'I hope so,' she said.
'Or do you want me to stay?' I asked.
'No,' she said. 'I think you're right. It might be best if you go.'
'Deborah, if you think he's going to hurt you, I'll stay. I'm not afraid of him.'
'Scott, thanks but until he really gets the message that it's over between him and me, let's not make it any worse than it is. If he wants to bang on the windows or swear at me over the phone I can handle it.'
'You shouldn't have to handle it,' I said.
Convinced it was better to leave, I did. Now the way I should have driven home would have taken me east, cutting through the back streets to the next main road. But as I drove away from Deborah's I had the urge to go west. I turned at the next street, drove up to another main road, when diagonally across the road in the car park of a pub, who should be there sitting in his car, but the ex. Like a guard on patrol, his car was facing the road, giving him clear access to see not only the road I came out from, but one further down.
I drove across the main road, into the car park, and pulled up alongside him. He seemed startled when I approached. His driver's window was wound down and he flicked a cigarette out the window as I pulled up.
After staring each other out for a few seconds I asked, 'Are you happy now?' referring to my impending departure. He said nothing and I shook my head in disgust. 'You really are a dick head!' I added.
Still he said nothing so I left him in the car park and drove back to Deborah's.
'He hasn't gone,' I told her. 'He's around in the pub carpark.'
'Did he see you?' asked Deborah.
'Oh yeah, he saw me. Now are you sure you don't want me to stay?'
'No, it's okay,' she said.
'Well if he comes around call the police!'
I knew my advice was falling on deaf ears. Deborah felt that by calling the police she'd cause more trouble, that he'd get more angry. But as I'd often asked her: 'Why should he get away with treating you like he does?'
So home I went, heading in the easterly direction that I was going to take before, cutting through the numerous back streets to get to the next main road. Once on that road it was a straight cruise towards the Adelaide Hills. Five minutes after leaving Deborah's Toni's warning rang in my head. 'I "see" someone following you!'
I looked in the rear vision mirror. It was almost 10.00 p.m. on a Monday night and there wasn't a lot of traffic on the roads. There weren't any other cars in the lane behind me, but there were two further back in the other lane. I slowed down a little. The first of those cars gradually made its way past me, but the second car, still too far back to recognise, slowed down when I slowed down, and sped up when I sped up, keeping the same distance away from me. Well what do you know, I thought. The bastard's following me!
He certainly hadn't followed me through the back streets I'd taken from Deborah's house. There hadn't been any car behind me through that part of the journey. He'd come from another direction hoping that I would remain oblivious to his intentions. But he wasn't counting on a little spiritual forewarning, was he? So what could I do? Call the police?
My mobile phone was right next to me.
But if I phoned them what would I say?
He hadn't done anything. How could I prove he was following me? But one thing was for sure, I wasn't going to lead him to my house.
No, Scott, I thought. You have to outsmart him!
I was driving in the outside lane next to the traffic island. As soon as the next break came I sharply turned, doubled back at high speed which caught him off guard, turned again at the next break in the traffic island which he'd now passed and came zooming up behind him.
Just in case he hit his brakes I swapped lanes and drove alongside him.
Did he look at me?
No.
He stared straight ahead as if he had no idea what was going on.
Then he suddenly cut left and veered down a side street.
I hit the brakes, reversed and entered the street.
It was a main arterial street that stretched through three suburbs. His car had already disappeared.
I slowed down and approached a street on the left which was a no through road.
He's down here I told myself and turned into the street.
Sure enough, there he was. Parked down as far as he could on the other side of the road and facing me. As I approached he drove off again, turning on his headlights after he passed me. I didn't feel the urge to chase him any further because I'd made my point.
But what would his next move be, I wondered. I U-turned at the end of the road and drove back to the main road. Then I called Deborah on the mobile and rilled her in on what had happened. 'He's on his way to your place,' I told her. 'Lock your doors and windows and as soon as you see his car outside call the police. Don't wait for him to come inside. I'm on my way and I should be there
The mobile battery went dead.
He didn't have that much of a head start on me. We should get to Deborah's around the same time. But I got held up at every traffic light along the way, so he beat me by five minutes. He'd done the banging on the door and windows routine and sped off just before I arrived. Probably figured out I'd be back. Deborah hadn't called the police. She and I not so much argued but debated the pros and cons of calling the police. She really didn't want to for all the usual reasons. I reminded Deborah that the situation was different now. That the idiot had tried to follow me home!
'And what would have happened if I hadn't "tuned" in and realised he was following me?' I asked her. 'What would he have done to my house, or my car or me? Now either you call the police or I will!'
She called the police. It took them ten minutes to arrive and in that time the ex had cruised past twice, both times with Deborah and I standing at the front fence in full view.
He'd only been gone thirty seconds when the police arrived. We explained the situation to them. But because nothing had happened physically, like a fight where bruising or broken bones were evident, they could do nothing.
But when we described the ex's car and how they'd only just missed him, the police remembered passing him as they approached.
The give-away red stripe painted down the side of his car sealed the fact that he was in the vicinity.
So then a waiting game began. The police parked further down the road, out of sight, waiting for the ex to cruise by again.
But he didn't.
I wandered down to chat with the police and we were beginning to agree that he had called it a night when Deborah came running up.
'He just walked across the end of the street,' she told us. 'He's got a mate who lives just around the corner. I reckon he's going there.'
And he was. Another patrol car arrived and ten minutes later he was arrested and taken away.
'He's denying everything,' the police who attended the call told us. 'Says he's just visiting a mate, that's why he's in the area.'
I reminded the police that he lived forty minutes away by car so it was a long walk.
'He's dumped the car,' the police told us. 'Without it it's going to be hard to make any charges stick.' We needed to find the car.
The police went in one direction and I went in the other through all the back streets, the pub, behind the local shops.
Anywhere a car could be hidden.
I lucked out. He's a crafty bastard, I thought. Then I reminded myself that to catch a crim, you had to think like a crim. It was twenty minutes between when he was last seen in his car, and when he was seen walking nearby. So wherever his car is it's at least twenty minutes away by foot. And it's in the least likely location. I 'tuned' in. 'It's on the other side of the main road,' I told myself.
So I drove across the main road and headed south through the suburban streets, away from Deborah's house. I cruised every back street that I felt would be far enough away to cover twenty minutes walk.
I lucked out again and wondered if the police had found the car. But as soon as I thought that I said out loud: 'No, it's here, it's close by!' I smiled to myself. I 'knew' I was on the right track.
'Think like a crim,' I reminded myself. 'If I didn't want to get caught I'd park the car just that bit further away so that whoever was looking for it would think it wouldn't be that far. And, he could've run for part of that twenty minutes.'
Confident I'd nailed his plan I swung my car around and drove further south through the back streets, stretching the boundaries of where I initially thought he might go. Isn't everything concerning the spiritual about stretching accepting boundaries!
You'll be amazed what you find if you do. Anyway, I drove down two other streets and as I was heading to the third I was 'tapped' on the shoulder, that spiritual 'tap' I receive when I'm on to something.
'It's left,' I said out loud before reaching the corner.
I turned left and there, parked on the other side of the road, was the ex's car, the red stripe down the side making it unmistakably his.
I returned to Deborah's. The patrol car hadn't returned from their search, so I phoned the police and asked them to radio the patrol car to tell them what street the car they were seeking was located.
Deborah hasn't seen the ex since. While she did receive the occasional strange phone call in the following six months together with a couple of very angry ones that were definitely him, it seems he's found other things to do with his time, allowing Deborah to get on with her life unharassed.
Thanks to Toni for the warning.
And thanks to me for listening to my inner voice.
Oh, and by the way, when Daryl the policeman returned to Sydney he followed the clues I'd given him. The deceased girl's friends admitted they sniffed some coke, smoked some grass, and passed out. The girl found in the river sniffed and drank the same, passed out in the pool unnoticed, and drowned. She floated in the pool all night, and when her friends found her they didn't want to get busted for drugs or accused of her death they dumped her body by the river to make it look like she drowned.
It was the Saturday night I was to meet Matthew and Anne in the Riverland, the place where I'd worked as a radio announcer between 1977 and 1980. I'd met Matthew and Anne during that time. As I drove my car along the highway out of Salisbury and towards Elizabeth on the northern outskirts of Adelaide, I recalled what Yuri had told me once about the melting pot of events we encounter within our life path.
'Every now and then, Scotty,' he said, 'spirit turns up the heat!'
Tonight was to be no exception! Usually I'd divert around the busy outer suburbs and utilise an alternative route to avoid the fifty million sets of traffic lights that keep a watch over the highway like red-eyed guards. But tonight I was willing to put up with the constant stopping and starting at the lights. I wanted to follow the original way I'd first driven to the Riverland all those years before. Not for any particular reason. I just felt like it.
I couldn't count the number of times I'd done this trip. Hundreds probably, but I never tired of it.
It was just before 6.00 p.m. on a still and freezing August evening. Night had only just fallen and I wondered if the forecast rain would hold off long enough to not put a dampener on whatever the reason was Matthew wanted me to meet him and Anne at Barmera. It had to be for UFO reasons. Everything pointed to that. But only time would tell.
I peered up at the sky across the top of the steering wheel and stars were peeking out through the clouds. Not a complete cloud cover. We could be in luck. As one of the clouds shifted the moon appeared, hanging very low in the sky and shining brightly.
Some rain spattered across the windscreen prompting me to push the climate control button on the dashboard. I set the interior temperature of the car to twenty-three degrees. It was a far cry from when I first drove to the Riverland nineteen years earlier in my bright yellow Datsun 1200 coupe. Sometimes its temperamental heater would work. Sometimes it wouldn't.
A green light!
At last!
The traffic moved slowly away, but at least it was moving and the radio news was the usual murder, mayhem and political unrest. The world still couldn't get its act together! Shootings, car accidents and the mounting road toll, the latest findings about TWA flight 800 which crashed into the ocean off the coast of New York a month earlier, and discussions of security arrangements at the Sydney 2000 Olympics following the bomb which exploded at the Atlanta games. Further speculation over Soviet President Boris Yeltsin's health and sobriety, the latest on the Presidential race in the United States between Bob Dole and Bill Clinton, and a Japanese religious sect who were preparing for the end of the world.
They stood in line behind soothsayers and those into doom mongering from around the globe who'd predicted at least fourteen different dates for the end of the world over recent years, all of which had uneventfully passed.
I'd also read a report on the latest so called findings regarding the Prophecies of Nostradamus. There were four different dates culled for a possible end of the world, between 1997 and 2004, all of which Matthew, my expert friend on the works of Nostradamus, said were untrue.
As I entered the Barossa Valley my headlights shone up on two wooden marker posts which I hadn't seen before. One read 'Accidents' and the other 'Fatalities'.
Geez, that's grim, I thought. Signposts indicating how many people had been killed or injured along here. But, it is a notorious highway, and drivers, if only momentarily, needed to be reminded to take care.
I, of course, had come across my fair share of accidents on this highway over the years. When I thought back about it, I don't know where the energy came from to get me through some of those situations, because many of them were pretty gruesome. Somewhere within myself there's an automatic pilot that goes on at such times and I just methodically work my way through the trauma of what's before me and do whatever has to be done. Like with twenty-four-year-old Gavin who'd lost control of his brand new two door red sports car and driven it straight into a tree.
Gavin was drunk. He smelt like he'd been swimming in a pool filled with beer. So strong was the smell of beer that it fought with the smell of petrol, scorched metal and rubber that emanated from his crashed car. Gavin's face was bloodied from glass cuts and he was slumped in his seat, his head hanging forward.
Because of his drunken state he seemed to be dazed rather than pained. His mumbled and slurred concern for the wellbeing of his car seemed to override his awareness of the fact that the steering wheel had buckled under the impact and the steering column had impaled his shoulder to the driver's seat as the front of the car caved in and was pushed backwards under the force of the impact.
Part of the car engine was now resting in the passenger area. Another few millimetres and it would have crushed Gavin's legs. His head looked uncomfortable, tilted forward over the steering column as it was, but I didn't dare move him, just in case he had a neck injury.
All I felt it was safe to do was to put my hand through the shattered driver's window and place my hand on Gavin's shoulder—not only to send him some healing energy, but to reassure him that someone was there. Gavin's semi-conscious groaning was continuous as I waited for oncoming headlights that would bring another traveler, and help. Of course this was in the days before mobile phones, which is part of the reason why I'm never without mine now.
It seemed an eternity before a young couple travelling from the Riverland to Adelaide came along, and they went for help. Within half an hour or so Gavin, now more lucid than before and feeling the pain, was cut from the car. He was carried away with part of the steering column still protruding from his shoulder.
As I drove along the highway on my way to meet Matthew and Anne, my headlights lit up the group of trees Gavin had driven into, and as I passed I saw a wreath and bunches of flowers. Someone else had hit the tree recently by the looks of it; the flowers lay in memory of those killed there.
I drove across a narrow bridge, down a small hill and around the tight bend that the Sturt Highway takes into the town of Truro. I always stop at the Shell service station there to top up on petrol and get something to eat.
On stepping out of the warm confines of the car I was immediately gripped by windless, icy cold. I reached back into the car and put on my surfing jacket.
Standing at the pumps I thought about the girls who were found buried near here in what became known as the Truro murders. While two men were arrested and charged, I wondered how much quicker the case would have been solved if a little psychic assistance had been utilised as is often the case in America now.
Police in California had no leads into the disappearance of a seven-year-old boy so they contacted a local psychic who told police the boy had been murdered by a man who'd killed before. She told a police artist her impressions of what the killer looked like and when the sketch was shown to the missing boy's parents they said it looked like a family acquaintance. The man was questioned and confessed to killing the seven-year-old and two other boys.
And when an eight-year-old girl was abducted in California, a psychic held a photo of the girl and told police she'd been raped and murdered by kidnappers. She said the kidnappers drove down a road which ran through farm fields and then was elevated above the fields. She added that the kidnappers had left the girl wearing only white socks and that the body would be found near a sign bearing the letter 'S'. Detectives knew the area, followed the psychic's instructions and found the little girl's body. She was wearing only white socks and was found near a letterbox on which was written a single letter 'S'.
'I'm sorry, mate. I should've done that for you,' said a man who approached me as I stood at the pumps. 'It's been pretty busy tonight.'
He too was rugged up against the cold, his yellow plastic parka jacket glistening wet from the rain.
'That's okay,' I said. 'I only needed a top up,' and the pump clicked off as that mission was achieved. 'Where are you heading?' the man asked. 'Barmera.'
'Not the best night to be out on the roads,' he said. 'There's been reports of ice on the highway ahead.'
'Thanks for the warning,' I said putting the petrol cap back on.
I handed him twenty dollars and followed him inside so I could get something to eat.
A hot dog with cheese and sauce in one hand, the steering wheel in the other, and some German cake on the front seat, I cruised along the meandering turns the Sturt Highway takes through the hills on the other side of Truro. It's the last part of the journey to the Riverland from Adelaide that goes through hilly areas. Within a few minutes I'd reach Accommodation Hill and the long straight descent down to the Murray Valley Plains.
Just before Accommodation Hill I steered the car into the look out area. The engine idling so I could leave the heater on, and my half eaten hot dog in hand, I got out of the car and looked east to where the plains of the Murray Valley were blanketed in wintry darkness.
Below on the highway, I could see in the distance at varying intervals the headlights of approaching cars as they cut their way through the night. In past journeys at night I'd wondered if the hazy lights that shone in the rear vision mirror were in fact a car's, or a UFO's. They'd always be a car, but hey, doesn't stop you from wondering. There had been numerous sightings of UFOs around this area over the years, and five reported cases of a UFO swooping cars and on another occasion, a bus. I wondered how many cases hadn't been reported. I looked up to the sky. Sparkling stars against a stark black backdrop, and fast moving transparent cloud. No UFOs, not that I could see anyway.
I looked back down to the plains again and recalled how a semi-trailer had played cat and mouse with me while I was driving down there one night on the stretch of highway leading up to Accommodation Hill. I only managed to slip away by gunning the V8 Statesman Caprice I was driving and hitting the upward climb of the hill at one hundred and eighty kilometres an hour. Dangerous enough in itself not only because of the speed, but because kangaroos abound at the bottom of the hill.
The steepness of Accommodation Hill and the winding curves of the hills towards Truro finally put distance and an end to the maniacal cat and mouse game which the truckie had decided to play with me. It was the only time I struck a bad apple out of the bunch and it wasn't a pleasant experience.
If that wasn't enough, the day after I did one hundred and eighty I was doing thirty kilometres an hour around a corner in the city and the front end of the car collapsed.
The crash repairer surmised that I'd sheared a bolt off when I tried to go through a car wash a week earlier.
The low Statesman had hit one of the guide rails at the car wash, leaving the front end hanging by a thread. I never picked up on the danger.
So to the many people who ask ... No, just because a person is gifted in certain psychic and clairvoyant areas, doesn't mean they know everything. No one does.
Back in the car and about halfway between Accommodation Hill and Blanchetown . . .
What was that?
Was something on the road?
It looked like a man standing just to the side of the road.
I slowed down and approached the spot, searching vainly for any sign of a person or movement. There was none.
Maybe I was seeing things because of what I'd been thinking about, I reasoned.
A little further on I saw it again, what looked like a man standing on the side of the road. I slowed right down this time and when I reached the spot where I'd seen him, there was no one, just some bunches of flowers lying by the side of the road. Whoever was killed here must be still hanging around, I thought.
I'd slowed right down to twenty five kilometres an hour to check things out thoroughly, but sensed and saw nothing, so on I went, returning to one hundred and ten kilometres an hour.
A semi-trailer approached, yellow lights above the cabin, dazzling white headlights. I slowed down, and as I did a 'voice' told me to pull over.
In the glare of the semi's approaching lights, I searched the highway ahead for any sign of danger, perhaps a kangaroo standing on the road.
'Pull over,' the voice told me again.
It was Yuri speaking.
I checked the rear vision mirror. There was no one behind me so I brought the car to a gradual halt off the side of the road.
I sat on the side of the Sturt Highway, it was pitch black outside, and the illumination of the car's instrumentation lit up the interior.
'Yuri?' I asked.
I waited for a reply.
Nothing.
'What?' I asked.
Nothing.
I checked the temperature gauge, it was normal, I had enough petrol, there were no warning lights on, so I wasn't being warned about the car. I hadn't seen anything on the road as I pulled over and I certainly hadn't seen any other vehicles around.
Was the spook I'd seen hanging around outside? I peered through the windows of the car.
Nothing.
While Yuri still watched over me, his assistance in spiritual situations such as this was decreasing. I wasn't getting as many straight answers from him as to why particular things were happening.
More and more I was having to 'search' myself. Fair enough too—that's the way you climb up the spiritual ladder.
He's not going to tell me anything, I thought. A fine sprinkling of rain dotted the windscreen.
'Okay,' I said out loud. I'd just have to follow my instincts and unravel this little puzzle myself. One thing was for sure. To be told to pull over meant pull over! There was no way I was getting back on that highway until I knew more about why I was given the message. I turned off the engine, took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. The coldness of winter gripped its icy fingers around me. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and pulled the collar up around my neck. Then I scanned the area around me. Just trees, scrub, and the highway. Once, standing out here alone would be scary. Tonight, there was no fear. I just wanted to find the reason why I was here.
A car approached from Blanchetown heading towards Adelaide. I waited for it to pass. Alone in the quiet once again I closed my eyes and tuned into the energies surrounding me. I slowly turned in a full circle picking upon which direction I should walk in.
'Help me out here, Yuri,' I said out loud. 'Am I supposed to be looking for something? What?'
I heard nothing. I looked at the sky. The moon had sunk below the horizon now and it was very dark.
A rain-soaked cardboard box lay on the ground just in front of me. I picked it up and water streamed out as its soggy bottom gave way.
Nothing in that and I dropped it back to the ground.
I wandered among the trees and undergrowth, sharp pieces of bush grabbing onto my jeans and not wanting to let go. I felt prickles making their way through the jeans onto my skin. I yanked my leg away from a bush and it released me but some of the prickles stayed. I could feel them stabbing into my skin as I walked.
I walked around a tree and, concentrating more on what I was 'feeling' rather than looking where I was going, tripped over a large rock and stumbled forward.
'Shit!'
I managed to stay on my feet and regained my footing.
A semi and some cars passed on the highway. From where I was off the side of the road I could only see parts of their lights flickering through the trees, the differences in engine noise and road sound indicating what type of vehicles they were.
Now with greater caution, I moved forward and after a few steps lost the 'feeling'. I stood still and concentrated, trying to get a mental bearing like a compass. I heard a car pass by on the highway, but this time didn't see its lights. This is a wild goose chase, I thought.
'Sorry, Yuri,' I said shivering, 'but either tell me why you wanted me to stop or I'm going back to the car!'
Nothing.
The most frustrating thing about the spirit world is that sometimes you can't shut them up, and at other times they're very selective about just when, where and why they'll speak to you. So just because Yuri told me to stop didn't mean he was going to give me a running commentary on why. Although I hoped he would so I wouldn't have to freeze my butt off any longer than I had to. No person on the face of this earth is handed anything spiritual on a platter. Some spiritual issues or realities come easily, others come hard. In the end we all have to work for our knowledge and understanding.
There was still no response from Yuri.
'So,' I said out loud, in my best 'Maxwell Smart' voice, 'the "Cone of Silence", huh. Well, that's it.'
And I went back to my car.
Inside, I rubbed my hands together to warm them up. In the five or so minutes I'd been parked on the side of the highway, the car had become an icebox, and the windows had all fogged over. I started the engine and put the heater on to demist the windows.
As I waited for the windscreen to clear I wondered what kind of spiritual jigsaw I'd just walked around in.
Why did Yuri want me to stop?
The last time he'd done something similar I'd found a wallet on the side of the road!
Oh well, I thought, putting the indicator on and moving back onto the highway. I guess I'll find out soon enough.
And I did.
About three kilometres further down the road I came across a three car pile-up. I recognised one of the cars from what was left of it. I'd been following it along the highway just before Yuri had 'told' me to pull over. If I hadn't pulled over I would've still been just behind that car, or worse still, I might have tried to pass it.
Other vehicles had already stopped to offer assistance and I slowly followed some other cars off the highway onto some loose gravel and around the accident scene.
'Thank you, Yuri,' I said as I drove the car back on to the bitumen, picked up speed and left the wreckage behind me.
I knew that not being in the vicinity at the time of the accident was no coincidence. I learnt long ago there wasn't such a thing. All I was encountering in life I'd asked to experience—situations that in some way would arouse my spirituality, shape me and even shake me to look beyond what's right before my eyes. There's a huge world out there beyond what we can physically see.
Yes, coincidence can be an eye opener and it isn't a random happening. As I often remind people, every situation we encounter in life is something we chose to experience before we came into this life. So coincidence is really a spiritual bookmark that we've chosen to place along the chapters of our life, which indicates that there's more going on than meets the eye!
I drove down another hill towards where the highway turns towards the BP service station at Blanchetown Bridge. I wouldn't normally stop at the BP but my little sojourn into the scrub had left me with an attack of the munchies. I had chocolate on my mind and so drove into the service station and bought a Snickers and a Crunchie.
As I walked back to my car ...
'Excuse me, mate.'
I turned to see a guy about my age approaching. 'Didn't you used to work at 5RM?'
'A few years ago now,' I said.
'I went to Loxton High School,' he told me. 'You did a disco there one lunchtime in the high school hall.'
'You've got a good memory,' I said remembering the disco 'cause I only did the one there.
'Are you the guy who wrote the book?' he asked, referring to my first book, Caught Between Two Worlds.
'That's me.'
'I thought I recognised you. I'm Dave,' he said, shaking my hand.
'Scott.'
'Everyone's been talking 'bout your book,' he told me. 'My wife's reading it now. I'm going to read it when she's finished.'
'Well, I hope you enjoy it,' I said, mindful that I'd lost a few minutes by stopping back down the road and needed to be on my way so I wouldn't be late meeting Matthew and Anne.
'Bad night, isn't it,' said Dave. 'You would've passed the accident back up the road.'
'Not good,' I said.
'Never is along this stretch of road,' concurred Dave.
'Well, it's good to meet you,' I said, heralding the exit I needed to make.
'Before you go, could I tell you something that happened to my wife and I soon after we were married?' Dave asked.
Make it quick, I thought.
'Sure,' I said.
'Now don't think I'm crazy or anything,' he said. 'I'll tell you the God's honest truth.'
'I wouldn't think you're crazy,' I reassured him.
'My wife and I like the outdoors,' he began, 'and soon after we were married, 'bout fifteen years ago, we went camping one night down here at Blanchetown. Some friends had a shack there and we stayed in the shack one night and camped further down the river in a tent for the other two nights.
Anyway, on the second night we're rugged up in our sleeping bags asleep in our tent. We had a fire by the tent but we'd put that out. When we woke the next morning we're still in our sleeping bags, still in the tent, but now we're about fifty metres away from where the campfire was. The night before we were right next to it. Debbie, that's my wife, she tells me about having strange dreams about bright blue lights and a floating sensation.'
Dave scratched the corner of his mouth in deep thought. 'I had exactly the same dream!'
He was waiting for a reaction.
I didn't give him one. Through all the years and all the stories, nothing surprised me anymore.
'What do you think happened?' I asked, interested to hear what he thought.
'Honestly?'
I nodded.
'I think we were lifted by a UFO and returned, but not quite in the same place. There'd been sightings of one in the area in the days before we went camping.'
'Did you have any marks on your bodies that weren't there before?' I asked.
'Yeah, we both had scratch marks on our back and a scar under our right shoulder blades. Same scar on both of us ...' he spanned his index finger from his thumb the length of a cigarette '... 'bout this long. I'd show you, but ...' he looked around at the people coming and going from the service station acknowledging that this wasn't the right place.
'And you said this happened fifteen years ago?'
'Yeah.'
'Anything happen before that?'
'No.'
'And what about since?' I asked.
'Nothing else has happened that we remember,' Dave answered. 'I mean I've heard that people who are abducted get taken on a regular basis, but that doesn't seem to have been the way it was with us. We've had quite a few sleepless nights waiting for it to happen, though.'
He sighed. 'I don't understand why they wanted us, but one thing's for sure. A lot more UFO stuff happens in the Riverland than people admit to.'
'Who have you told about what happened to you and Debbie?' I asked.
'Debbie eventually told her mum. Freaked her out, she really doesn't want to know. I told a couple of mates. One of them thought we'd been smoking too much dope, and the other thought we'd lost the plot, too much screwing after the honeymoon, he said.'
Dave paused. 'It's just that we've got kids now. We don't want anything to happen to them.'
'Well, I tell you what,' I said taking out my wallet. 'Here's my card. I'm based in Adelaide so if you need to talk or anything happens or you want to learn more about your experience, call me.'
'Have you seen that film Fire in the Sky?' Dave asked. It's a film based on a true story about a man who's abducted by aliens and has terrifying experiments carried out on him.
'Yeah, I've seen it.'
'That really scared the shit out of us. Before we saw that we were curious to know what happened to us. Now I'm not sure we want to know.'
'Well,' I said, shaking Dave's hand, 'you know where I am if you want to delve into it further.'
As I drove across Blanchetown Bridge and across the River Murray I sympathised with Dave's plight. Caught between wanting to know and not wanting to know. Sooner or later, just like me, he and his wife would have that inner need to know more. At least now with the changing times and a greater awareness of everything that is, help and support would be available to them.
My thoughts shifted to Matthew and Anne. How many years had it been since we were actually in the Riverland together?
And like three butterflies held in someone's hand we'd been released and flown off in different directions.
But tonight, for a while at least, with the three of us together again, the triangle would be complete.
Sixteen years had passed since Matthew, Anne and I had been chased by a UFO at Lake Bonney at Barmera in South Australia. In a blink of an eye those years had been snatched into eternity and once again we were back, driving along the dirt road that hugs the perimeter of the lake. After meeting up outside the Barmera pub we'd decided to take one car, mine, around the lake. It was Matthew's idea to venture out here. This is what he wanted and my inner feeling told me that I was meant to be here.
'You'd think they would've fixed this road by now,' I said as my car vibrated over the bumps. A fine drizzle spattered over the windscreen.
'When was the last time you came to the lake?' Matthew asked me as I steered the car around a pot-hole.
'Four, maybe five years ago,' I answered. 'I came up here from Adelaide with some friends just for the day. I'd always wanted to show them this spot.'
'It feels different here,' said Anne as she leant between the two front seats from the back. 'The energies have changed.'
'Well, 1980 was a long time ago,' I said. 'The whole world's changed since then, not just this place.'
'Yes but it's more than that,' said Anne. 'The Riverland was home to us for some really good years. Now it feels foreign, like we were never here. It's strange.'
'Maybe because our lives are different now,' I suggested.
'But are they really?' Matthew asked, his voice laced with a tone of mystery. 'Or do we follow the same journey no matter where we live. Is a drunk not a drunk just because he drinks at a different pub?'
He gazed out the window towards where the lake hid in the darkness. 'Everything's just the same,' he said softly. 'It just looks different.'
We passed a late model car parked just off the side of the road.
'Strange place to park a car,' said Anne.
'Not if you're looking for a secluded place to have a good time,' I said.
As we drove along the road further I was looking for landmarks of recognition that would lead me to 'our' spot, but they had gone.
I felt quite disorientated. Like I'd disappeared off the radar.
'You just passed it,' informed Matthew.
I stopped the car. 'Are you sure?' I asked as I looked back to see what we'd passed.
'Yep.'
'Yes, this is it,' Anne agreed as she surveyed the area beyond a rain-streaked car window.
'I can't believe I missed it,' I said putting the car into reverse. We back-tracked about ten metres.
They were right.
This was it.
Sixteen years earlier, Matthew had turned off the road here, and driven between trees and bushes down to a clearing on the water's edge. Now, most of the vegetation was gone, having lost a battle against the high salt content of the lake. The last remaining, once majestic gum trees now lay dead on their sides in the water.
Even the area where we'd parked then was gone. The water level of the lake had risen and covered it. I parked the car as far off the edge of the road as I could without getting bogged.
We got out of the car.
The lake was still, calm, and there was no wind at all, but it was cold. Fortunately the rain had stopped. The three of us remained silent as we surveyed the area. I assumed they were comparing the memories and pictures implanted in their brains of what used to be, with what was here now, because that's what I was doing. In a way I felt sad.
The reality of how time marches on circled me. Lost in our own personal thoughts, we wandered off in different directions.
I walked along the dirt road just as I had last time. I recalled how I'd once said that standing in the middle of this road made me feel like I was at the edge of the earth. Back in 1980, on one side to the east were trees, the lake and the town lights of Barmera could be seen in the distance, and to the west was flat emptiness and saltbush for as far as the eye could see. Now the three hundred and sixty degree view was all the same. Taunted by man and time, the edge of the earth had moved on.
The area looked so foreign that even the memories of what had happened here seemed unreal.
People used to go skinny-dipping just near here because there were plenty of trees to shield them from view. Now there weren't any trees left to aid discretion.
Across the lake I watched the distant headlights of a car follow the highway and disappear into the foggy distance. Then I walked to the water's edge.
The smallest of ripples caressed the sandy edge of the lake, making a noise like a large bubble rising to the surface.
I Walked back to the car. Matthew and Anne were standing by it. A fine drizzle began again but we ignored it.
'This is so depressing,' I said.
'It's an environmental disaster!' said Anne.
'It's where we crossed the spiritual threshold,' said Matthew.
'Matthew!' scolded Anne. 'Look at this place! It's dead. Don't you feel upset?'
'I don't have time to feel upset,' said Matthew calmly as he lit a cigarette. 'There's too much to do!'
No matter how much I tried, I couldn't ignore the bitter cold. I walked around to the boot and took out an oversized blanket.
'Let's not be heroes,' I said to the others. 'Wrap this around us.'
It was big enough to go around the three of us comfortably and completely.
We leant against the side of the car. Of course, we could've just got back in the car, but it was good to be out here together at the lake, taking part in the surroundings, and not confining ourselves from them.
The stars had shone brightly and the moon wasn't out the night we'd been chased by the UFO here. I remembered how the Milky Way had stretched across the clear sky like a sparkling carpet. Tonight there were no stars, just a sky of broken cloud and darkness. 'Seen Independence Day?' Matthew asked. 'Yeah. You?'
'Nah, I'll wait till it conies out on video.' The whole world had lined up to see the blockbuster film, but not Matthew. He hadn't been to the movies for years, and just didn't like going, no matter what the film was.
'So the aliens invade the earth, huh,' Matthew said, referring to the storyline of the film. 'Yep.' 'What do they look like?' asked Anne.
'Some are like big locusts, and some reminded me of the creature in the Alien movies.'
'Ronald Reagan feared there might be an alien invasion one day,' said Matthew. 'That's why when he was President he gave the go ahead to the Star Wars defence system.'
'I thought that was developed to protect the United States from a nuclear attack,' I said.
'Nope. Alien attack. American and other world officials in the know have feared an alien attack ever since that UFO crashed at Roswell in New Mexico back in 1947. And you know how I told you years ago that the film Close Encounters is true, as in government and military officials have had secret meetings out in the middle of nowhere with aliens?'
'Yeah.'
'Well, some American scientists were killed by aliens in 1979. The following year, in 1980, President Reagan proposed the Star Wars, an elaborate system of tracking satellites and powerful laser weapons in space. It's there to shoot UFOs, not nuclear missiles.'
'So some alien race wants to invade us, do they?' asked Anne.
'It's always a possibility,' said Matthew. He looked up. 'Believe me, there's more happening out in those skies than there is here on this Earth!'
'How about all the excitement NASA created with that meteor and the proof that there was life on Mars,' I said.
'There is life on Mars,' said Matthew, 'and not some fossilised organism like they found on that meteor.'
'Good or bad life?' asked Anne.
'Good,' said Matthew with a smile on his face as he took a drag on his cigarette.
'Well, I think all the attention they gave that meteor was a bit over the top,' I said. 'Why don't they just come straight out and tell the truth about the Roswell incident instead of beating around the bush?'
'Maybe they're building up to it,' said Anne, 'you know, getting the public used to the fact that we're not alone.'
That was an interesting comment from Anne. Now she was following Christianity I didn't think the prospect that we shared this universe with other beings fitted into its big picture of things. But then, Anne had experienced an alien standing over her bed and contorting her body when she was younger, and of course, being chased by the UFO with Matthew and me.
'Have you seen a photo of the "Face on Mars"?' asked Matthew. Photographed by America's Viking space probe in 1976, it looks like a humanoid face wearing a helmet. 'Well, an ancient Egyptian gold coin they unearthed recently has the "Face on Mars" emblazoned on it.' 'How old's the coin?' I asked. 'About four thousand years.' 'Is the face on both sides of the coin?' 'No, there's a form of writing on the other side, certainly very different from the familiar hieroglyphics of 2,000 B.C., but identical to the writing they found in the crashed UFO at Roswell.'
'So the Egyptians had help with more than just building their pyramids,' said Anne.
'Where was the coin found?' I asked.
'In the Valley of the Kings. Of course, the area had been gone over many times over the years and the coin had never been found before. It's almost like someone put it there to be found,' said Matthew, 'someone or some "thing".'
He paused. 'The eyes are everywhere. We can't go anywhere these days without a security camera watching us. Well, there's just as many "cameras" focused on Earth in much the same way.'
'So they could be watching us now,' said Anne.
'They are,' Matthew said.
'I mean us, here, now,' said Anne.
Matthew nodded.
'I should've worn some lipstick,' Anne said dryly.
As I looked east across Lake Bonney I thought about the many late nights Anne, Matthew and I had enjoyed up here, and the many summer evenings I'd admired the deep orange and red sunsets which flamed out across a cloudless sky forewarning of another hot day ahead.
And here we were now huddled up in a blanket against the freezing cold, the sky a mixture of stars and cloudy darkness.
Then it happened.
The feeling.
Warm.
Foreign.
Tingly.
It weaved through my body just as it had sixteen years before.
'It's happening again,' I said to Matthew and Anne, assuming they'd know what I was referring to.
'I feel it too,' said Anne.
It was at this point in 1980 that we looked west and saw a UFO approaching us silently and steadily from some distance away. Now I turned and saw only clouds and stars which surprised me. I was expecting to see a UFO.
'We still have time,' Matthew said urgently, moving out from under his share of the blanket. 'Get in the car, it's not meant to happen here!'
Anne helped me fold up the blanket. 'Don't worry about that,' said Matthew. 'Just dump it on the back seat.'
So I did and was about to get in the driver's side when Matthew blocked my path.
'Give me the keys!' he said holding out his hand. What!
A million images and thoughts zoomed through my mind. My car wrapped round a tree, or rolled, or smashed, whatever ... the images weren't good. And I wasn't having a premonition. I didn't trust Matthew's driving any more. I hadn't been in a car with him driving for years. He was too reckless. A night when he almost killed us both 'testing fate' as he put it.
'Give me the keys!' Matthew instructed again, facing me off. 'No!'
I went to walk past him but he grabbed my arm with a strength that I'd never felt before, from him or anyone.
'I need you to trust me,' he said, his eyes piercing into mine. 'If ever there was a time I need you to trust me it's now! Please, Scott. There's not a lot of time.' 'Let go of my arm, Matthew!' We stared each other out and Matthew let go. 'Scott. Now's the time I'm meant to pull so much of what's happened in the past together,' Matthew argued. The drizzle made way for steady rain. 'Help me,' he said holding out his hand for the keys again. I felt cornered.
Trapped. If this had been 1980 I might have handed Matthew the keys.
But this was 1996 and things were different now.
I was different!
And I didn't trust Matthew to drive my car and bring us safely out the other end. I didn't want to be smashed up against a tree thinking 'I wish I hadn't let him drive'. I was no longer the type of person who'd hand over the reins, or the keys, to someone else. My answers were within.
I'd tuned into my truth a long time ago, and my gut feeling said 'no', and I knew better than to go against my gut feeling.
'Matthew, you can either stand here in the rain or you can come with me but you are not driving!'
And with that I got in the car, started the engine, and waited. The strange energy was still buzzing around me like an electrical charge. A few moments later Anne got in the back and Matthew sat in the passenger seat next to me. I was expecting strained silence but instead he said: 'Beam me up, Scotty!'
I sped my car along the dirt road, repeating the same urgent speed and route of sixteen years before. There was no UFO to be seen this time but the tingling increased in sensation.
'We have to get to the highway,' Matthew told me.
Which we did, but instead of turning left to 'go towards Barmera as we had in 1980, Matthew told me to turn right and go the other way.
'Where is it?' Anne asked.
'It's been with us all the time,' Matthew answered as he peered across me and out the window. 'We just have to go a little bit further. Speed up, Scotty!'
The digital clock inside the car read 11.11 p.m., the speedo one hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. Deja vu!
As we sailed along the dirt road by the lake I realised that I'd 'seen' this whole scenario before ... in my recurring dream.
Somewhere close by a UFO was our silent and invisible partner, sailing tandem with the car through the inky blackness of the country. The last time Matthew, Anne and I had been chased by a UFO we yelled and screamed at each other to get away from it. This time, we were calm. Different. 'This is far enough,' Matthew said, and the speedo snuck backwards, one-fifty ... one-forty ... one-thirty ... The bend in the highway loomed. Eighty-five kilometres a yellow road sign warned, an arrow pointing in the direction which the highway was about to take.
The car was filled with blinding bright white light! And then ...
I couldn't see where I was going so I braked gradually and pulled the car over. The white light disappeared.
'Stay here!' Matthew barked, opening the passenger side door before the car had fully stopped.
'Where are you going?' Anne asked, a tone of urgent caution in her voice.
Matthew swung his legs out the door as the car stopped and looked back over the passenger seat to Anne. 'I have to do this, Anne,' he said. 'You know I have to do it! Wait for me back at the lake.'
He got out, closed the door and ran in front of the car's headlights. He crossed the highway and disappeared into the scrub. I turned off the engine and got out of the car. The night was quiet and still. Not a sound could be heard. Anne decided to brave the cold and got out too.
I waited for another flash of light, something, but there was none.
'I don't like this,' said Anne walking around to me.
We both looked over to where Matthew had disappeared from view but could see nothing, no movement, no light ... nothing.
I looked to the sky. Just clouds and stars.
'He'll be all right,' I reassured her. 'Let's go back to the lake.'
As I turned and went to open the driver's door, I noticed a dark powdery substance on the roof of the car. Having a white car, the powder stood out very clearly. Anne walked around to the other side of the car as I ran my fingers through the powder. It wasn't as soft as it appeared, it was harsh, metallic, and almost cutting. 'What is it?' asked Anne.
'Don't know,' I answered, studying what I'd collected on my fingertips. 'Some kind of metal.'
I walked along the length of the car. The substance was also on the bonnet and boot, clinging to the car like a magnet even though the car was wet from the rain. Almost on cue, as if to stop me from contemplating further, a sudden heavy shower of rain began. Anne and I got back into the car and we headed back to the lake. The digital clock in the car had remained on 11.11 p.m.
We sat in the car back at the lake. The radio played softly in the background, the windows were fogged up, the rain persisted, and the blanket kept us warm. Neither Anne nor I were saying very much. It was kind of like waiting for a baby to be born any moment there'd be a big announcement.
'I still can't get over how much this place has changed,' Anne said, breaking the silence. 'I remember it so differently to what it is now.' She sighed. 'Everything changes, doesn't it.' 'Yeah.'
'Where do you suppose Matthew's gone?' Anne asked.
'No idea.'
'Our lives are bigger than Star Wars sometimes, aren't they,' she said pushing a long strand of hair out of her eyes. 'And we're not close like we used to be, are we,' she added out of the blue. 'No,' I responded honestly. 'What happened?' she asked.
I visualised three fighter jets. One represented Anne, one Matthew, and one me. They were flying in formation and then the two jets either side veered away, and they were all flying in different directions. A long silence followed.
'I remember the night we met you,' Anne said. 'The party at Peter's place. In you bounded, this tall, skinny guy. I knew we'd be friends. Mind you, at the time I didn't have any idea about all the spooky things we were going to experience—UFOs, ghosts, past lives, premonitions ... even the occasional Hollywood star.'
When I worked at 5KA in the 1980s I met many famous people, including one still popular as ever actor I refer to as Wayne. The reason for the pseudonym is because Wayne has a major spiritual purpose that he doesn't want hindered by public scrutiny.
'Shirley MacLaine went public and look at the flak she cops,' Wayne told me. 'I don't want that happening to me!'
Wayne has more than a passing interest in UFOs, and aliens known as the Supreme Race. Aside from that he's connected to Matthew through their past-life work together, and they keep in touch, as I do with Wayne. And the first person to ever read my tarot cards—a lady called Veronica—well, I found out years later that she's Wayne's sister, even though she has an Australian accent and he's American. I'd last seen Veronica when Wayne took me to her house in Sydney two years earlier. Veronica, like her brother Wayne, is a person of extreme spiritual depth and ability.
'I'll never forget the night I first took Wayne to your house,' I said to Anne. 'I thought you'd keel over when you answered the door and saw him, but you didn't.'
'That's because Matthew forewarned me. He told me this incredible story about how he and this famous Hollywood actor had worked together in a past life, and how in this life that work had to continue. Considering all the experiences the three of us have been through, seeing Wayne standing on the doorstep was just another one to add to the list.'
More silence.
'What about that Chrysler Matthew built,' I said, remembering something else from the past.
Matthew had built a two-door Chrysler Regal out of three different cars. When it came to cars and mechanics, he was a genius.
'So is it Matthew or me?' Anne asked.
'Is it you or Matthew what?' I asked.
'Do you stay away because of Matthew, or me?'
'Weeelll,' I said stalling for time, trying to mentally put the words in the right order, 'I guess because of Matthew. Whenever I'd visit he'd come down on me, tell me off, make what could have been a pleasant visit into an uptight third degree. I got tired of it. It was easier to stay away.'
'I've missed you,' Anne said. 'And I know Matthew has too.'
She shivered. I turned the engine on so that the heater would warm up the car. I glanced at the clock to see what the time was. It was still stuck on 11.11 p.m.
'What's the time?' I asked Anne.
She checked. 'Don't know. Watch stopped around ten past eleven.'
'Should be able to find out from the radio,' I said.
'What if Matthew doesn't come back?' Anne supposed.
'He'll be back,' I said. 'He's too stubborn not to.'
'I feel ridiculous just sitting here,' Anne added as the announcer on the radio said it was 3.17 a.m.
A sudden knocking on the windscreen scared the hell out of both of us and some justified profanity flowed from my mouth. Through the hazy fogged up window I could see the figure of someone standing outside. 'Open up,' Matthew said loudly. 'It's freezing!' I pulled up the central locking button, the doors unlocked, and a rain-soaked Matthew dived in the back.
Just as I was about to ask him the first of a number of questions the other back door of the car opened. Another person, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, sat in the car. As his face came into view you could've knocked me down with a feather.
It was Wayne!
His hair stuck to his face and it was much longer than last time I'd seen him. His T-shirt was waterlogged, see-through to his skin.
'Scotty, how ya doin', buddy?' he asked as happy as if he'd just come off a pleasure cruise on The Love Boat.
Anne and I looked at each other, dumbfounded. I mean, there's plenty of spiritual phenomena that I simply take in my stride.
But this!
I was speechless.
'Can you turn the heater up?' Matthew asked.
'Nice to see you again, Anne,' Wayne said.
Anne and I sat pivoted in our seats, staring into the back at these two waterlogged characters.
Matthew reminded me that I was sitting there like a stunned mullet. 'Scotty,' he said tapping the top of my seat, 'the heater.'
I reset the interior temperature to twenty-three degrees.
'Would someone mind telling me what's going on?' Anne asked.
It saved me asking.
'I was just passing by. Thought I'd drop in,' answered Wayne.
His reply was met with supportive amused chuckling from Matthew.
'Do you have a jacket I could borrow, Scotty?' asked Wayne, shivering.
He was lucky. I kept a jumper, spare shirt and shoes in the boot just in case.
'First,' I persisted, 'where did you come from?'
'Scotty, I'm freezing,' Wayne answered.
'Well, get used to it until we get some answers!' I said tersely.
'It's a long story,' he replied feebly as a consolation answer.
'Very long,' said Matthew smugly.
'Try me,' I said.
Wayne pointed to the roof of the car. 'I came from up there.'
I looked to Anne. She returned my 'here we go' gaze, and I got out of the car to brave the drizzling rain and got the jacket and shirt from the boot. Wayne already had his T-shirt off by the time I climbed back in the car. I handed him the clothes.
'Do you guys mind if I take my jeans off?' Wayne asked. 'They're wet too!'
'You can put them in the boot,' I said.
Wayne took his sneakers off and edged his way out of his jeans while Matthew lit a cigarette. He opened his window slightly to let the smoke out.
'You were right about this place, Scotty,' Wayne said, his legs sticking up in the air as he pulled his jeans off. 'It's full of energy.'
'Are you guys going to fill us in on what happened or not?' Anne asked.
'Just a sec,' said Wayne who then dashed out the back door and to the boot with his wet jeans and sneakers. He slammed the boot closed, got back in the car and pulled the door behind him.
'Ooo-weee, it's colder than a jack rabbit's butt out there,' said Wayne.
Tin surprised you didn't bring a jacket,' I said.
'Well, I was wearing a shirt and jacket, but I left them behind,' Wayne explained.
I pointed upwards like he had. 'Up there, I suppose,' I said mimicking his previous response.
'You got it. Hey, is there anywhere around here to get something to eat?' asked Wayne.
'Not this time of night,' I replied.
'Plenty of fish in the lake,' said Anne dryly.
'Not even a McDonald's?' asked Wayne.
'Wayne, this is country South Australia, not downtown Los Angeles,' I said.
The only place I knew of that would be open was the truckie stop at Yamba, just before the Victorian border on the Renmark to Mildura stretch of the highway, but that was a good forty-five minutes' drive from here so I didn't mention it.
'You still haven't told us what happened,' Anne said.
'I don't think they're going to,' I said as I faced the front and turned the car lights on.
'It's up to Wayne,' said Matthew.
'All in good time,' said Wayne. 'All in good time.'
Yeah right, I thought. Matthew and Wayne's track record for coming out with the bottom line was abysmal so I didn't push the point.
'Anne, I'll take you and Matthew back into Barmera. Wayne,' I said looking in the rear vision mirror, 'where do you want to go?'
'Well, I left my car just up the road,' he said. 'If you can drive me back there I'll figure something out.'
We drove back to the car we'd seen parked on the side of the dirt road. So no sexual shenanigans had been going on in there after all!
'It's Veronica's,' Wayne explained as my car idled next to it.
'Is she here too?' I asked.
'No, back in Adelaide. She's living there again now.'
Really? No one had told me!
Wayne sat forward. 'Anne,' he said. 'As you and Matthew are staying on a few days would you mind looking after Vee's car so I can drive back with Scotty.'
I'll take Veronica's car back into town and you can take ours,' Matthew told Anne.
'Sure, why not,' said Anne half-heartedly. She too must have felt as I did, like a puppet being pulled in every direction.
Wayne was behaving just like Matthew had on many occasions. Doing his own thing, lost in his own world, unfazed by everything, and smiling all the way with.
They were both basking in the knowledge that neither Anne nor I had much of a clue as to what was going on in their heads. It was behaviour that wore thin very quickly, as it had already with Matthew.
'Scotty, you weren't staying over tonight, were you?' asked Wayne.
'No,' I answered.
'Do you mind giving me a lift back to the city?'
I was surprised he asked.
I thought I'd just be told.
The broken white line that snaked its way along the middle of the Sturt Highway silently moved past the car as Wayne and I cruised back to Adelaide. I wasn't in any hurry. I sat on eighty-five to ninety kilometres an hour. We passed the place where earlier the blinding white light had occurred and Matthew got out of the car. I looked around the area as we drove past.
So did Wayne.
'So how have you been, Scotty?' he asked snuggled up in his blanket, his hair now half dry and scattered messily over his head.
'I've been good,' I replied.
'Pleased to hear it,' said Wayne. 'And on a scale of one to ten, how angry are you with me?'
'I'm not.'
'You're not your usual happy self,' he said as we approached a semi-trailer hauling a heavy load.
'Well, I've had a rather unusual night,' I said turning on the indicator and veering out into the oncoming lane so that I could pass the semi.
We drove side by side with the semi and I sped up to pass it.
'I suppose you're surprised to see me,' Wayne said.
'What do you think?' I said now driving back in the proper lane, the semi's lights growing more distant behind us.
I checked the digital clock. It had started to work again and read 12.16 a.m. I figured it was at least four hours slow.
'How long's Veronica been back in Adelaide?' I asked.
'Three months or so. She moved into my house to negotiate its sale. Now the Grand Prix isn't being held in Adelaide anymore there's not a lot of point holding onto it for guests. And I don't get back here often enough myself to make use of it. Now she's bought her own place.'
'Where?'
'Ummm,' stumbled Wayne. 'I can't remember.' There was a pause as he thought about it. 'Jesus,' he muttered, 'but it's right on the beach, I know how to get there.'
'And how long have you been back here?' I asked.
'Few days.'
'Just as well you didn't fly Valujet,' I said. Valujet Flight 592 had crashed into the Florida Everglades a couple of weeks earlier.
'A woman cancelled her reservation on that flight after she had a nightmare the night before about the plane crashing,' said Wayne. 'Her story was in all the papers.'
'Good on her for listening to her inner voice,' I said.
'You wouldn't happen to have any aspirin?' Wayne asked.
'In the glove box.'
Wayne opened the glove box and searched for the squashed box of aspirin I knew was in there amongst all the papers and folded road maps. Sure enough, there it was, and with one hand on the steering wheel I reached behind my chair for the plastic bottle of spring water I kept there, which always accompanied me in the car for when I got thirsty. Wayne swigged down a couple of Panadols, settled back and started to doze off.
'Wayne,' I said pushing his arm.
'What?' he responded, his eyes closed.
'What's going on with you and Matthew?' I asked.
I was determined to get an answer, not just to be a chauffeur.
'I'll tell you later,' he replied, seeking sleep instead of conversation.
Just the response I expected!
Wayne staggered into Veronica's seaside home just before 6.00 a.m., and invited me back for a 2.00 p.m. lunch.
'I should be up by then,' he said managing a smile as he got out of the car.
The rain had cleared by Sunday afternoon, and although the breeze was cool, it was beautiful to be out in the sun. It was only when a cloud occasionally covered the sun that I was reminded that winter still ruled, especially down by the ocean.
As I approached Veronica's I hoped I'd find a park near her house. Those out for a Sunday drive seemed to have converged on the beach, taking advantage of a brief respite in the rain, and all along the coast road, cars filled most of the available parks.
The closest I could get to Veronica's was three houses away. I was lucky.
I parked my car and walked the short distance to the front fence. I unlocked the wooden front gate but it wouldn't budge.
'You have to give it a shove!' I heard Wayne say.
I peered over the fence and there he was lazing out in a deck chair on the front verandah. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.
I shoved the gate and it didn't budge. It required more force because the cold weather had caused the wood to expand against the concrete footpath. I shoved the gate again and it scraped out a groan as it reluctantly opened. I went to close it but it jammed before I could close it all the way.
'Leave it!' called out Wayne. 'It's too temperamental!'
I walked up some steps and through an archway to come out onto the verandah where Wayne was stretched out in a sun chair. He was wearing a very flowery Hawaiian short sleeved shirt, and cut off jeans. He rested his sunglasses on his forehead as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
The glistening ocean cascaded back to the horizon, yachts skimming across the water.
'Where's Veronica?' I asked.
'Cooking something special. Go on in, door's open.'
Inside a long hallway headed straight for the back of this older style house.
'Veronica?' I called.
'Scott!' said an excited voice and Veronica stepped into the hallway from a room at the end. She had a tea-towel in her hand. She walked to me, her arms outstretched and hugged me.
'It's so good to see you,' she said standing back and smiling. 'Bet you think I'm an old bitch for not getting in touch with you.'
'I don't know about the "old" part,' I said.
'Oh, just a bitch, huh,' said Veronica. 'Fair enough too,' she said linking her arm through mine and escorting me down the hallway to the kitchen. 'I meant to contact you but moving's hell as you know and it all just got away from me.'
'Don't worry about it,' I said.
The kitchen was pretty flash, obviously recently renovated, with all the latest appliances, and the best of everything. The smell of roast lamb filled the air.
'You didn't have to go to the trouble of making a roast,' I said.
'No trouble,' she said washing her hands under the tap. 'Just stick it in the oven and leave it. And Wayne loves it. He doesn't get a chance to have an Aussie roast very often.'
'This place is a lot more up-market than I'm used to seeing you in,' I said. 'What happened to the gypsy in you?'
'The gypsy decided to put her feet up for a while,' she answered. 'And Wayne kept offering a nicer style of living so ...' and Veronica shrugged.
'So what aren't you telling me?' I asked.
'Well, there's not much more to say,' Veronica said.
'Bull! Your aura's giving you away.' As a matter of fact the composition of Veronica's aura I found to be quite troubling. 'So what's been wrong with your health?' I asked.
Veronica crossed her arms and leant against a cupboard. 'Arthritis is trying to set in but I refuse to have it.'
'Maybe you've just been doing too much on a spiritual level,' I suggested. 'Trying to help too many people with all the reading and Reiki you do.'
'Well, that's certainly true,' agreed Veronica. 'Particularly where it comes to giving out energy. I just have to concentrate on myself now.'
'That's right,' said Wayne entering the kitchen, an empty glass in hand. 'And about goddam time too!'
I looked at this mismatched brother and sister. An odder couple would be hard to find.
Veronica opened the oven and vegetables sizzled away, sitting around the leg of lamb in a big metal cooking tray. A red setter dog appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Fully grown, and with its long coat bright and shiny, it sat quietly and was watching proceedings with sad looking eyes.
'How's my beautiful girl?' asked Wayne, squatting down to gently pat and hug the dog which sat quietly as he did.
'That's Yodette,' Veronica told me as she closed the oven door behind her.
'Yodette?' I queried. 'A play-off on Yoda [a little spiritual alien] from Star Wars, I assume?'
'Uh huh,' said Wayne.
'I always loved that little fellow,' said Veronica. 'He was so wise, so peaceful.'
'Have you seen a film called Fluke?' I asked. Both hadn't. 'It's about a man who reincarnates as a dog and goes in search of his family who he'd left behind as a human. I really liked it.'
'Is it sad?' asked Veronica.
'It has its moments.'
'I don't want to see it then,' said Veronica. 'I can't bear anything happening to animals in movies!'
'It's got a happy enough ending,' I said.
'She won't see it,' Wayne told me. 'Vee still hasn't forgiven me for showing her Free Willy.'
'I cried all the way through it,' she said.
'It wasn't that sad,' I said. 'Willy got away in the end.'
'Sure,' said Veronica in a tone that registered that our friendly killer, whale Willy's escape was nothing to celebrate. 'And then Willy comes back in the sequel and gets caught in an oil slick. No thanks!'
Yodette let out a little whimper from her curled up spot in the corner.
'That's right, darling,' Veronica said to the dog. 'They can stick it, can't they!'
Large glass windows looked out from the dining room over a blue sky and afternoon ocean, the water, beach and road still busy with Sunday afternoon visitors. Sunshine had warmed the room, while the south easterly breeze brushed across the window. Veronica sat at the head of a table big enough for eight settings. Wayne and I sat across from each other.
'This roast is beautiful,' I said, savouring every mouthful.
'That it is, Vee,' agreed Wayne. 'I wish you'd move to the States so that I could have this once a week.'
'Perhaps you should teach your wife how to cook!' Veronica jibed.
Wayne bristled and raised his shoulders and shuddered as he cut through a roast potato.
'No thanks,' he said. 'I'm not into food poisoning!'
I'd heard stories that Wayne's marriage was in trouble, that he'd been seen out and about Hollywood with someone else. Perhaps his personal life was weighing a little heavy on him at the moment. But I'd never pry or ask questions. If Wayne wanted to tell me, he would.
'Scotty,' Wayne began. 'Last night when you brought me home, we went past a statue in the city and you said it had an alien connection.'
'Not the actual statue, but the location has an alien connection,' I corrected.
'I was half asleep when you mentioned it,' Wayne said. 'What's the story?'
'Well the statue I pointed out to you is on Montefiore Hill overlooking the city, and it's of Colonel Light who's the founder of Adelaide. Anyway, long before white men came to Australia, legend has it that an Aboriginal elder stood at that site, his hands open to the heavens to welcome what he called his "spiritual brothers" ... extra terrestrials.
'The ETs had spoken to the elder in his dreams and told him they were coming. The elder's descriptions of the "spiritual brothers" have been handed down through the centuries and match the rock paintings of spacemen and spaceships found on the walls of caves in the Northern Territory and Queensland.'
'I've seen those,' said Wayne. 'They're wild.' 'After the elder had opened his arms to the heavens, he pointed towards where the city of Adelaide is now in acknowledgement of where the spiritual brothers would arrive. The elder and his trusted kadaicha man - that's like a medicine man—well, they met the ETs near where the Festival Theatre is now, by the River Torrens. No fear was expressed by the elder or the kadaicha man. To them, the extra terrestrials were part of the spirit world—part of a natural environment—the existence of which is never questioned by Aboriginal culture.
'The kadaicha man and the elder are said to be buried near Colonel Light's statue. So hundreds of years after the elder had stood and pointed there, Colonel Light stood and pointed at exactly the same spot for a different reason. He was indicating the site of the city of Adelaide.'
'We have so much to learn from the native cultures of the world,' said Veronica.
'I told you there used to be a spaceport where Adelaide is now, didn't I?' queried Wayne.
I nodded.
'Out of all your Australian states, South Australia is the most active with regard to extra terrestrial energy.'
'How does it stay so active?' I asked.
'Well,' Wayne paused for a sip of beer, 'extra terrestrial energy works in a non polluting way, but lasts along the same lines as nuclear energy. So here we are about one hundred and fifty thousand years after there was a spaceport in Adelaide, and the alien energy still radiates from here. In fact it's part of an energy link up between Adelaide, the Nullarbor Plain, the Flinders Ranges and the Riverland.'
'I found the Flinders Ranges to be the spookiest of all those places,' I said. 'Some friends and I were out bush walking there one day and came across a densely vegetated area. There were six of us and we were all overcome with a feeling that we shouldn't be there—the feeling that at any second something would come out of the bushes at us. One of the guys and his girlfriend turned back and ran out of there!'
'What did you do?' Veronica asked.
'Well, I felt it was not so much UFO, but spirit energy, probably Aboriginal. So I spoke out loud and said that we didn't wish to hurt or harm the area, that we were just passing through. After that, the feeling went away.'
'There is UFO energy in the Flinders Ranges,' said Wayne. 'It may have been mixing in with whatever else you were feeling. You see, every now and then part of that energy source fires up, and sends out a signal. Like a dog whistle, many animals pick up on and react to that signal, but most humans don't hear it unless they have a developed psychic sense.'
Wayne smiled to himself.
'What?' I asked.
'Somebody once picked up on those energies and misinterpreted them, causing a lot of panic here.'
He'd lost me now.
'In Adelaide,' he clarified. 'In the mid 1970s the alien energy source fired up around South Australia, and a clairvoyant gentleman from overseas misinterpreted the energy and predicted that Adelaide was going to be hit by an earthquake and tidal wave. Remember that?'
'Yeah, 1976. January, I think. The tidal wave was supposed to hit at 11.00 a.m. and the Premier, Don Dunstan, went down and stood on the beach at Glenelg along with thousands of other people to put those whose minds were in panic to rest. Some people were so frightened though, they sold up in the weeks before and moved interstate. And on the day the wave was supposed to strike, the Adelaide Hills were crammed with caravans, trailers and people who'd gone to higher ground so they had a bird's eye view of the wave hitting.'
'Which never eventuated,' said Wayne.
'No.'
'And the man who made the prediction was ridiculed?' Wayne asked.
'Of course.'
'Well, he did pick up on something, as I said before,' confirmed Wayne. 'He just went off in the wrong direction.'
'Wayne,' I began, 'you know how you said that animals would've picked up on the alien energy that day. Well, that morning all the dogs at the Mount Barker boarding kennels were very subdued and then at 11 a.m. when the tidal wave and earthquake were supposed to hit, every dog in the boarding kennel started to howl. It was the eeriest sound you could ever hear. All the dogs howled for five minutes and then fell totally silent for another half hour.'
'Well, the dogs picked up on the alien energy source,' said Wayne.
Far out, I thought.
'There's plenty more food if anyone wants it,' said Veronica. We both thanked her.
'Hey Scotty, did I tell you that Oprah's television complex in Chicago is haunted?' asked Wayne.
'Uh uh,' I said eating hungrily, making up for all the talking I'd just done.
'I swear,' said Wayne, 'you walk into those Harpo Studios and all your hair stands on end. I was sitting in the Green Room and a tray of drinks flung itself across the room. Then I heard whispering voices, children laughing, someone crying and turn of the century music.'
'So who are these spooks?' I asked.
'Well, they may be some of the victims of a 1915 incident near the site of the studios when the steamer Eastland capsized. More than eight hundred people died and one of the buildings which is now part of the Oprah TV complex served as a temporary morgue for victims.'
'I heard Andy Gibb's still hanging around his brothers in spirit, too,' said Veronica.
'Yeah, looks like it,' said Wayne. 'A chair in which Andy used to sit in the Bee Gees' Miami recording studios often mysteriously swivels on its own as if someone's sitting in it.'
'When did Andy pass over?' Veronica asked.
'1988,' I said.
'Time flies,' said Veronica.
'Vee, this dinner's better than the one I had at the White House,' Wayne said.
'Dining with the President now, are we?' I taunted. 'Very impressive!'
'Just bullshit and bravura,' dismissed Wayne. 'It's haunted, you know.'
'What?'
'The White House. It's long been said that John F. Kennedy would speak to the ghosts of Abraham Lincoln and Harry Truman. Well, some of the staff at the White House told me that Richard Nixon's ghost has appeared in the President's bedroom and in the Oval office. Most staff members at the White House have seen the ghosts. Even George Washington's is said to be hanging around there somewhere. But did you hear about what was in the personal diaries of John F. Kennedy?'
'I'm sure you'll tell me,' I said, bemused.
'Just before he went to Dallas in 1963, before his assassination, President Kennedy wrote in his diary that he was bothered by a continual feeling that something was going to go wrong on that trip.'
'Pity he didn't listen to that feeling,' I said.
'He wasn't meant to listen to it,' said Veronica. I looked at her. 'It was his time,' she clarified.
After lunch Veronica insisted on tidying up by herself. So Wayne ushered me into an orderly office.
'Have you seen this?' Wayne said handing me a faxed newspaper article.
I read the headline out loud. ' "December 31, 1996 - Judgement Day." Not another end of the world story,' I moaned.
'Read on,' encouraged Wayne.
'"A panel of professors answer the question all mankind is pondering." ' I looked to Wayne. 'People have been pulling dates out of a hat like a magician pulls rabbits,' I said handing him back the fax. 'That makes four different dates for the end of the world in 1996 that I've heard so far. Why don't they give it a rest!'
Wayne held out his hand so I'd give him the article. He put that fax sheet down and handed me another.
It read: 'Nostradamus predicts stormiest U.S. summer in history. Deadliest storms in one hundred years will rumble across the nation!'
I handed the sheet back to him asking: 'And your point is?'
'They're grabbing at straws,' said Wayne. 'Interpreting what they want to interpret. As the millennium winds down people are wondering where the world's heading ... will it all be doom, gloom and disaster?'
I shrugged indifferently. I'd heard stuff like this over and over again from a million different sources. 'So?' I said.
'So, do you want to know what last night was all about?'
I couldn't believe it. Was he actually going to tell me? I felt like saying, Of course I bloody well want to know what happened last night. I've only asked you what happened fifty thousand times! Instead I responded by walking around Veronica's desk and sitting down in a padded leather chair.
'Okay,' I said to Wayne once I was seated.
The chair was on rollers and reclined, so I moved it back from the desk so I had plenty of room and leant back. I felt the need to be comfortable for whatever he was going to tell me. Wayne stood in a reflective stance, pondering.
'Perhaps I should wait for Diana Ross to rejoin The Supremes,' I said sarcastically. 'It might be quicker!'
Wayne sighed. 'Very funny.' He looked down at the ground in thought, then back to me. I figured that whatever he was going to tell me must be important because he was sure taking enough time to come out with it.
'I've told you before how I communicate with the Supreme Race,' Wayne said.
I nodded.
'They're the good guys, so to speak. Keeping a careful eye on what goes on in the Universe. I've worked with them before,' explained Wayne. 'In other lives. So have Veronica and Matthew, although in this life Matthew's not involved to the extent I am because his spiritual gifts are found more strongly in other areas—as you've discovered throughout the years.' He stood still for a moment and looked at me. I met his gaze, and made no comment, waiting for more. He then resumed pacing the room. It seemed to help his concentration.
'The Riverland and other parts of South Australia are highly energised with the Supreme Race energy because of the spaceport that used to be here where Adelaide is now. It was built by them—a main control and command centre in which a strong energy emanates today. So communication with the Supreme Race is made much easier from this location, which is why I regularly visit here, Peru, Hawaii, Kenya and a couple of places in Europe.
'The strongest energy of the Supreme Race though, can be found where Los Angeles is now. Thousands of years ago another race of aliens tried to conquer the spaceport which was there and harness the Supreme Race energy for themselves. There was an energy breakdown of sorts because of their interference and the main energy source of the spaceport went into a meltdown of sorts, kind of like Chernobyl did and the nuclear power plant at Three Mile Island in the States almost did back in the late seventies. This meltdown at the spaceport in California caused a huge upheaval within the earth's crust, which is why the San Andreas fault is such a major fault line today.'
'Adelaide sits on a fault line too,' I said.
Wayne sat back on the corner of the desk. 'Yes, but nothing like what happened in California ever happened here, otherwise you'd be having earthquakes all the time.'
'So was it one of the Supreme Race UFOs that Matthew, Anne and I saw all those years ago?'
'Yes. And that experience happened to trigger Matthew's recollection of his past association with them, and for you and Anne the experience happened so that you'd both have no doubt about the existence of UFOs and other life out there in the Universe.'
'But I wasn't abducted, was I?' I asked, seeking confirmation of what I'd already come to believe myself. 'No,' said Wayne.
'Why couldn't you tell me this before when I asked you?' I said. 'It would've saved me a lot of time and trouble trying to find the answer somewhere else.'
Wayne got up from the desk and looked out the window, sunlight bouncing off the white curtains and reflecting on his face.
'Everyone's spiritual journey is about seeking their own answers in their own way,' said Wayne. 'When the time's right the answer or answers will always be made known. You know that.'
I pondered my next question. 'So you and Matthew needed to go to the Riverland last night and communicate with the Supreme Race because of what?'
Wayne leant against the ledge of the window and looked at me. 'Let me answer like this. You got any plans for tonight?' he asked.
'Not really.'
'Feel like taking Veronica and me for a drive? We don't have any wheels until I get her car back.' 'Where do you want to go?' I asked. 'There's something we want to show you.'
We were ready to leave Veronica's house at 8.00 p.m. Those who had flocked to the beach earlier to enjoy the sun had scurried away to the warmth of their homes as the cold south west winds grew with the intensity of night. There was no rain, though. Just a cold steady wind, and sparse scattered clouds zooming across the stars at great speed.
'Must be a gale blowing up there,' I commented at the speed of the clouds as Wayne, Veronica and I were getting into my car.
The ocean waves broke onto the shore roughly as if saying: Don't come near me tonight, I'm in a bad mood.
'Where to?' I asked, starting the engine. Wayne still hadn't told me where we were going.
'What's the name of the place again, Vee?' Wayne asked.
'Myponga.'
'That's it. Head for Myponga. You got enough gas?' he asked in the same breath.
'Yep,' I said as we pulled away from the kerb.
'Which way do I go?' I asked. 'The main road which takes you to Victor Harbor or the coast road?'
'The coast road,' said Veronica.
'The coast road to Myponga,' said Wayne happily, nestling back in the passenger seat.
'I haven't been there for years,' I said as my car began the steep ascent up the hills on the edge of Seacliff.
'Well, we're not exactly going to the town,' explained Wayne. 'We're going near there.'
'Where near there?' I asked.
'I'll know when we get there,' Wayne answered.
An hour later we were driving along a dirt road in the rural blackness of the Fleurieu Peninsula. We'd passed a rickety sign that read 'Myponga thirteen kilometres' about five minutes before we'd turned off the bitumen. Wayne was playing navigator now. He sat forward in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead into the high beam path of light in front of us for a few seconds, then looking up to the sky. Back to the road, up to the sky - the pattern continued for a minute or so.
'Wayne, I don't know this area at all,' I warned. 'If we get lost or drive over a cliff I'll kill you!'
'Turn left at the next road,' Wayne said.
I peered ahead in the light of the high beam. 'Where is it?' I asked.
'Won't be long now ...' said Wayne searching ahead. 'There,' he said and I saw the turn at the same time.
Left it was and on to another monotonous dirt road. Wayne continued with the same looking ahead and looking up routine. Veronica was very quiet.
'You okay, Veronica?' I asked.
'Never better,' she replied.
On we went.
Most of the area was undulating farm land with weathered wooden posts and sagging wire fencing around properties on either side of the dirt road. Then the fences ended and the road became rougher and trees grew in numbers. We followed the road down a hill and up the other side.
'Wayne, is it much further?' I complained. 'This is four-wheel drive territory.'
'It's just over that rise,' said Wayne and I peered ahead to get a clue as to what 'it' might be, but saw nothing.
Up a small incline and over the rise we went. The area was heavily vegetated but also had pockets of open areas.
'Pull in here,' said Wayne.
I was cautious about driving the car off the dirt road. After all, the last few days it had been raining pretty heavily.
'I don't want to get bogged,' I said.
'You won't,' assured Wayne.
I slowed down and pulled in to where Wayne said to go. My headlights lit up another car.
'Just park next to it,' said Wayne.
I wondered who it was and then my question was answered when I saw Matthew get out of the other car as we approached. It was the same one Wayne had left with Matthew and Anne the night before. Anne got out of the car too and was standing near Matthew. I parked my car and we got out.
'Just as well you gave us the car,' Matthew said walking over to Wayne. 'Ours broke down in Barmera.'
'I had a feeling it would,' said Wayne who threw a wry smile to Veronica. 'I didn't want you to miss tonight,' he added. 'Vee, this is Anne. Anne, Veronica.'
Anne and Veronica exchanged greetings.
'And of course you know Matthew already,' he said to her.
'Of course,' said Veronica.
I wondered when Matthew and Veronica had met. I didn't recall him ever having said anything about it. But then it could have happened during any of the recent lengthy periods of non communication between us.
We huddled in a group, waiting patiently to see what was going to happen next.
'Come on, follow me,' said Wayne.
I still didn't know what was going on. Wayne, Matthew and Veronica walked closely together while Anne threw me a look that said she didn't know what was going on either. We tagged along behind.
'Are you any wiser than me as to what's going on here?' Anne asked.
'When do they ever tell us what's going on?' I answered.
'Matthew said he knew all along we were coming here tonight,' said Anne, more than unamused. 'He let me plan a few days off in the Riverland all the while knowing that we weren't going to stay there.'
'Couldn't you have stayed and let him come on his own?' I asked.
'Sure,' Anne answered. 'But we're on the merry-go-round of spiritual events again, aren't we,' she said sweeping her hair out of her face. 'After all these years I'm interested to see where it leads. I mean, it can't keep spinning in circles forever, can it!'
We came out on the top of a hill that overlooked the ocean. A chilly wind blew in from the south west. I folded my arms in front of my chest to keep warm. Looking south there was a clear view of the coastline curving gradually towards Cape Jervois and Kangaroo Island. To the north a hill like the one we were standing on was blocking the view. The trees diminished the closer we came to the edge of the hill. A half moon hung low in the sky towards the horizon, and clouds covered it from view, but moonlight shone straight down through a break in the clouds to the water. From here it almost looked like the moonglow was coming from underneath the water rather than above it. The clouds broke up and scattered, as they got closer to shore. But where the moon was above the ocean, the clouds covered the sky like a cloak.
'Be careful about going forward any further!' warned Veronica. 'This hill suddenly dips over there and it's quite a steep drop to the water.'
'The wind would blow you backwards anyway,' I said tightening my crossed arms against the cold.
'What wind are you complaining about, Scotty?' Wayne asked.
What was he talking about, 'what wind'? It was as cold as ice cubes!
Wayne's back was to me as he faced the ocean. Matthew stood behind him just to the right, also facing the ocean. Veronica stood to Wayne's left, the same distance behind him; she too was facing the ocean.
Anne stood next to me, her arms crossed across her chest just like me.
Gradually the wind dropped. As I noticed it decreasing in intensity I wondered, was I imagining this or was it really happening. Within half a minute or so there wasn't a breath of wind.
'What wind, Scotty?' Wayne asked again.
I looked up at the sky. The clouds were still whizzing over in the strong winds up there. The branches of the trees behind us were still swaying.
Hmm, I thought. When Toni had told me over dinner that the image of the eagle burnt into the boot of Matthew's car was a sign, and that we were onto something spiritually big, she wasn't wrong!
I looked at Anne. Her face was calm. She was taking it all in.
'Just think,' Anne whispered. 'I missed the Sunday Night Movie for this,' she said, trying to underplay the magnitude of what had just happened.
'I'm actually feeling quite warm,' I whispered back. In fact, comfortably warm. I uncrossed my arms and opened my jacket. I looked up at the sky.
'Look,' I said to Anne.
She looked up. 'What?' she asked.
That cloud,' I said. 'It looks like a huge eagle in flight, its wings outstretched.'
'It does too,' agreed Anne.
But within seconds the high altitude winds had scattered the formation into fragments.
Wayne, Matthew and Veronica remained in triangular formation facing the ocean. I took note of that. It was similar to the formation I'd explained and shown to Barry at the cabin in the rainforest. How common the keys to the universe are!
'Scotty, Anne,' said Wayne still facing the ocean, he, Veronica and Matthew not moving a fraction. 'Whatever happens from here on in, just be cool. There's no danger, nothing to be frightened of. Okay?'
'Okay,' we both said.
Nothing happened for a few moments and then a flash like lightning lit up the clouds near where the moon was. Then another flash. I waited to hear thunder, but heard none. Then I heard a buzzing. It was familiar to me, like the buzzing that power lines make when it's been raining. It was the sound I'd described a round alien probe making which I'd seen hovering on the front door step of a neighbour's house just before dawn one morning years ago. When the neighbours came to the front door to see what the noise was and turned on the front light the probe shot off over my parents' house and out to sea. A friend of my father's who was fishing that morning turned up later that day and told us a story about how a round object had sped past his boat and out to sea. It scared him so much he stopped fishing and came straight back to dry land.
Tonight though the buzzing noise seemed louder. I expected to see something fly in from the ocean from the direction of where the flashes were happening, but instead, a round object, the same as I'd seen all those years ago, but bigger, came from behind us. It was metallic, perfectly round, and about the width of a dinghy. My body prickled with energy as it slowly passed overhead, no more than ten metres above us. Anne and I stood there fixated, our heads arched back to get the best view. Then the object moved over to where Wayne, Veronica and Matthew were standing and hovered above them. They looked up at it. It stayed there for about a minute, the low and droning buzzing continuous, and the static or prickling sensation ongoing.
The object then moved slowly away in a straight line towards the ocean and stopped where the hill dropped down to the water. Suddenly it shot off out to sea at great speed. I heard no noise as it sped away and lost sight of the object in a fraction of a second.
I looked at Anne to see what she thought. She was biting her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows to me.
The static sensation I'd felt when the object was around us diminished. It was only then that I realised that what I'd just felt was the same thing I'd felt the night before in the Riverland, and the same feeling just before Matthew, Anne and I had been chased by the UFO in 1980.
Wayne, Matthew and Veronica kept their triangular formation but turned inwards and faced each other. I noticed another flash out to sea. Then a swirling mist of pink light began emanating from the area in between Wayne, Matthew and Veronica. They raised their arms and joined their hands. A yellow stream of light came from their hands, shot down to the ground and back again. In between all this, brilliant white sparkles, almost like Snowflakes, shot up above them, and the pink light swirled and swirled.
'What are they doing?' whispered Anne.
'I have no idea,' I said.
'This is pure Universal energy,' Wayne explained.
From where we were standing I didn't think he'd be able to hear me whispering to Anne.
'Why don't the two of you come closer,' Wayne suggested. 'Come right up to us,' he encouraged. 'It's okay.'
And it was okay too! The closer I got to the light, the more peaceful I felt, and as hard as it is to explain, I felt love coming from the light. It was the same kind of love that I'd felt from the light during my near death experience when I almost drowned as a seven-year-old.
Wayne, Matthew and Veronica lowered their arms but stayed stationary, their eyes focused on the area in between each other. The yellow stream of colour which had shot from their arms glowed now only around their hands and lower forearms.
'You've felt this kind of energy before, haven't you, Scott?' said Wayne.
'Yes.'
'Anne?'
'Uh huh.'
'Well, this kind of energy is what takes to you to the other side when you pass over. It's also the type of energy that the Universe uses to nurture and replenish the cosmos.'
'Universal energy,' clarified Veronica.
'It's the energy you astral travel on. It's the energy from which everything spiritual in your life is presented to you, us, and everyone.'
'And what are you guys doing with this energy?' I asked.
'You know how I told you that the Supreme Race watches over everything, not just this tiny planet, but the entire Universe,' Wayne answered.
'Yeah,' I replied, thinking the Universe was a pretty big area to cover.
'And how I told you that I talk to the Supreme Race?'
'Yeah.'
'And that they can't interfere in the choices made here on Earth, or anywhere for that matter.'
'Uh huh.'
Wayne paused as the swirling pink became brighter in colour, turning like a whirlpool between the three of them. The sparkles which shot up became less intense, and the pink colour from the swirling mass lit up their faces and the fronts of their bodies.
'Well, while the Supreme Race isn't allowed to interfere with the day to day running of the planet, it is allowed to energise the natural forces that are part of Earth. It is a separate issue that has nothing to do with the choices the people of Earth make with regard to their planet.'
'So what we're doing here,' said Matthew, 'is using Universal energy to replenish the diminished energies of Mother Nature.'
'Because Mother Nature is part of the Universal energy,' said Wayne.
'Others, just like us, are doing this right now all over the globe,' explained Veronica. 'It's a way of trying to extend the longevity of Earth long enough for its people to get their act together. Just because a lot of negative balls are rolling on Earth right now doesn't mean that they can't be stopped. The more people who switch on spiritually, the more people who are guided by their inner self—their true spirit which evolved from Universal energy in the first place—the safer this planet will be, and the less chance anything negative has of screwing things up.'
I noticed another flash out to sea. The clouds had shifted around the moon and it shone brighter now, casting a bigger path of light across the ocean.
'Is prayer part of Universal energy?' asked Anne.
'Absolutely,' said Veronica.
'But on its true level—much deeper than what you get into,' added Matthew, always wanting to undermine the beliefs Anne now held.
'Oh I don't know about that,' countered Anne. 'I think the prayers of our church work pretty well.'
'Now don't you two go having a domestic,' I said.
'I'm just making a point!' said Anne.
'Which is your right,' backed up Veronica.
She, Wayne and Matthew then raised their arms again but this time faced their palms inwards. The swirling pink disappeared and just the sparkling remained.
'This may not look like much,' said Wayne, 'but Universal energy is eternally stronger than anything nuclear or atomic that man comes up with. And it lasts a lot longer, with no side effects.'
'If only we could package it,' I said.
'We have,' said Wayne who then placed his left hand over his solar plexus to make his point. 'In here.'
'And that UFO we just saw?' questioned Anne. 'Where does that fit into all of this?'
There's hundreds of them watching over the Earth,' explained Wayne. 'Sent here by the Supreme Race. Some big, some small. The security cameras of the Universe.'
'And the flashing that's happening out there over the ocean?' I asked. 'Is that coming from a Mother Ship?'
'No,' said Wayne. 'A patrol vessel of sorts.'
'But the security cameras as you call them. They come from that vessel?' I asked.
'Yes.'
I wondered how big the patrol vessel was and pictured those featured in the movie Independence Day.
The sparkles disappeared.
'I am one with the Universe,' said Wayne.
'I am one with the Universe,' said Matthew and Veronica following suit.
Then with their eyes closed and heads bowed they said: 'The light of truth and all that is, is within. Love of peace, voice of the Universe. Hear us.'
As Anne and I waited for them to open their eyes I wondered what she thought about what they'd just said. In many ways I knew it embraced what she believed. But in other ways, it was much bigger than the parameters which I understood she as a Christian operated.
Wayne, Matthew and Veronica opened their eyes at the same time.
'Can I ask something?' asked Anne.
I was expecting a question with religious overtones.
'Is what we saw hovering above us tonight like what chased us in the Riverland back in 1980?'
'Yes,' answered Wayne. 'But a bigger version.'
'And I wouldn't say chased,' said Veronica. 'More like monitoring your spiritual progress.'
'Couldn't you or they or whoever do that without us going through what we did that night?' Anne asked.
'We chose it to happen that way,' said Matthew, 'as in you, me and Scott.'
'And such incidents tend to bring out a very realistic and truthful indication of where a person is standing spiritually at the time,' said Veronica. 'You'll either run, or look deeper.'
'Isn't that unfair,' argued Anne. 'I would assume most people would be scared.'
'Some are scared,' said Veronica. 'Including you guys initially. Because you didn't understand. But it's what happens afterwards, when you go away and think about it, that's important. Hopefully it becomes an awakening that the negative comments of someone who hasn't experienced it can't sway you from.'
'And all those awakenings combined help make this planet a better and safer place,' added Wayne. 'It's a strength of spiritual character to stand up and say, Well, I know I can't prove it but this is what's true for me.'
'So what happened last night?' asked Anne.
Boy was she on a roll and good on her. For so many years, like me, she'd been left in the dark. We stood gathered on the top of the hill and I was savouring every moment.
'Did one of those UFOs lift Matthew away when he ran into the scrub?' Anne asked. 'I mean, I saw the flashes of light like what's been out there on the ocean tonight, so something was there last night.'
'What you saw last night was the energy from a probe similar to the one you saw tonight. That energy led Matthew to the right spot in the Riverland,' explained Wayne, just as the same energy led me to this spot tonight.'
Ah ha, I thought. So that's what he was doing looking down the road and up at the sky from the car all the time just before we got here.
'And?' said Anne waiting for a deeper explanation. 'You haven't answered my question yet.'
'I wasn't lifted by a UFO,' answered Matthew on Wayne's behalf. 'The energies you saw out there on the ocean tonight are different from what you saw in the Riverland last night.'
'But from the same source,' Wayne clarified, 'they're like a space-time continuum. It's hard to explain.'
'Basically you step into another dimension and go wherever you have to go,' said Matthew. 'It's stronger near water. Like here, or at Lake Bonney in Barmera. Water's a great energy source in its own right. And then when you're finished in the dimension, it drops you back where you got on so to speak.'
'That's what the Keanu Reeves movie Chain Reaction is all about,' I said. 'Developing energy from water. And I don't mean hydro electricity, but a nuclear style energy by breaking down the molecular structure of water. The only trouble is if you don't have the right sequence to break down the molecular structure it can cause a nuclear explosion. I know the film is supposed to be fictional but it all seemed very real to me.'
'That's because out there in the cosmos such technology and associated technologies have been reality for eons,' said Wayne. 'All we have to do here on earth is catch up.'
'So UFOs hover over the ocean and places like Lake Bonney because they derive energy in a way similar to what they're going on about in that movie?' I surmised.
'Absolutely,' said Wayne.
'Can we get back to what I was asking about?' asked Anne firmly. 'Otherwise you guys'll go off on a tangent and never come back.'
'Sorry, Anne,' said Wayne.
'So where did you come from when you arrived out of the blue last night? And Matthew, where did you go?'
'We came and went to the same place,' said Wayne. 'Where the Supreme Race live.'
'Light years from here,' added Matthew who then clicked his fingers saying: 'Just like that.'
'Why?' she asked.
'Now you're getting into areas that are a little hard to explain,' said Wayne.
'You're doing alright so far,' said Anne.
'Did you ever consider being a lawyer?' Wayne asked. 'You don't let people off the hook.'
'Don't change the subject,' said Anne.
'See what I mean. Look, I'd really like to tell you but I can't. Not yet anyway and believe me I'm not sidelining you. It's just too hard to explain at the moment.'
'Well,' she mused, 'I can handle that. It's a big universe out there. I just wish you guys had told Scott and me all this a long time ago. It's not such a big deal.'
'Anne,' said Wayne. 'What you need to understand is that you and Scott chose for this situation to evolve and unravel exactly as it has. Just like I chose to speak to the guys up there,' he said pointing to the sky, 'and Matthew chose his path and Vee chose hers. We all chose different paths but we're all in it together playing our parts.'
'I understand that,' said Anne, 'I always have. It can be frustrating though.'
'I agree,' said Wayne.
And as he said those words the wind returned as if someone had opened a door. We all shivered.
'Well, it seems our work's done here tonight,' said Wayne.
And he and Veronica began to walk back to where the cars were. Matthew stayed with Anne and me and the three of us stood on the top of the hill together. Matthew cupped his lighter in his hands to shield the flame from the wind and lit a cigarette. I looked out to sea to where the moon was. The flashes had stopped, and no moonlight shone down to the water. The three of us began to walk back to the cars.
'So what'd you think?' Matthew asked me.
'Interesting,' I said.
'I just hope all the cloak and dagger secrecy is over now,' said Anne.
'It's just the way it had to be,' said Matthew. 'But now you know.'
'Yes, but how much don't we know?' asked Anne.
Matthew flashed his Cheshire cat smile.
While bookings to see me are made through my secretary without me actually speaking to the person wanting the reading, I'd already figured out that the young man who was coming to see me at 4.00 p.m. was looking for someone, either his mother or father, most likely his father.
Right on 4.00 p.m. the doorbell rang and immediately the most ominous feeling swept through me. It was so strong that I almost didn't want to open the front door. Was some kind of loony my 4.00 p.m. appointment? No ... no, the more I thought about it I didn't feel that. The doorbell rang again. Maybe the feeling's related to something else, I thought. So I opened the door. When I saw the young man who was standing there, the blood in my body drained from my head to my feet. My facial expression could have been chiseled in granite!
Standing in front of me was a young man aged around twenty who was the mirror image of one of three men who had sexually and physically assaulted me on a beach when I was thirteen. I'd never forgotten one of the men's face in particular because he'd been the one who'd tried to chat me up in the amusement park arcade. He was the one who rammed his heavy ripple-soled boot into the back of my head and pushed my face into the sand. He was the one who held the knife to my throat. He was the one who ...
'Scott?' the young man asked with a tone of hesitation.
'Yes,' I said. I think the look on my face made him question whether he had the right address. I felt like I'd been 'nuked' in a microwave oven!
'I'm Adam.'
I smiled and started an Academy Award winning performance.
'Come on in,' I said, holding the door open for him. 'You're right on time.'
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me there and then!
Adam and I sat at my reading table draped with a purple velvet cloth. Three white candles burned in their holders to one side of the table. I sat back in my chair and studied Adam while at the same time trying to make him feel comfortable, even though I felt totally uncomfortable! He'd been calm and poised while standing on the doorstep but he was fidgety now that he'd come inside. He shifted continuously in his chair. He tried resting his head against his hand, that didn't work, tried both hands in his lap, that didn't work, tried leaning against the table, that didn't work!
'You're very restless,' I said. 'If you don't feel comfortable here you don't have to stay.'
If ever there was a cue to get Adam out the door and me off the hook, that was it.
'I don't know what it is,' Adam said. 'I was fine before I got here. Was looking forward to meeting you actually.'
'And now?'
'Oh I'm still happy to meet you,' he said, 'although you don't look anything like I thought you would. I thought you'd be skinnier, not that you're fat and ... well, not as tall.'
'And you're looking for your father,' I said.
His fidgeting stopped. Adam looked at me, trying to suss me out.
'How'd you know that?' he asked.
'Been looking for some time now,' I added.
He began to fidget again. The candles on the table crackled and smoked, the flames bouncing wildly. And no wonder. They were certainly indicating a presence, and Yuri was now standing right behind Adam. Adam noticed my gaze wander to his right. He turned but didn't see anything.
'What can you see?' asked Adam. 'Is it one of my guides?'
'No, one of mine,' I said.
I was now feeling calmer, more in control of the situation. Yuri stayed, his presence visually crystal clear to me.
'He's never met his father,' said Yuri.
'You've never met your father,' I repeated to Adam.
'No,' confirmed Adam settling back in his chair and looking down at his hands. He couldn't hear Yuri's voice like I could.
'What do you know about your father?' I asked.
'Not a lot. Mum doesn't like talking about him. She went out with him just before I was born. He treated her pretty good at first, but got violent. She kicked him out, he came back a few times, she called the police. He even beat her up when she was pregnant with me. I almost didn't make it into this world.'
'He knows about his father's dark side,' said Yuri.
'What else about your father?' I asked, prompted by what Yuri told me.
'Well, my auntie told me that he'd been up on assault charges a couple of times. That he uh ... used to mess around with kids ... you know ... molested them. Mum was always scared that he'd try to get it on with me so she never let him see me. He was into little boys. Do you mind if I smoke?'
'Go ahead,' I said taking the ashtray from the window sill and placing it on the table in front of him.
I could've smoked twenty at once, right there and then, but I refrained.
'So he did try to see you?' I asked.
'Yeah,' Adam said lighting a cigarette. 'For the first couple of years. Then he disappeared.'
'And now you want to see him.'
'I just want to find out what he's like for myself. Meet him. See him face to face. I've been registered with one of those places that helps you find your parents but that hasn't helped. The other party has to make contact with the organisation too and he hasn't. I don't think he ever will. Maybe he's dead, I don't know.'
'He's not dead,' said Yuri.
'He's not dead,' I relayed.
Adam looked to me, relieved.
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.'
'Do you know where he is?' Adam asked.
'Queensland,' said Yuri.
'I'm not sure,' I answered, not wanting to give too much away at this early stage. 'I need some time to tune in and think about it.'
Adam told me his father's name was Tom.
'Leave it with me,' I said standing up from the table. 'I've got your number, I'll get back to you.'
'That's it?' Adam queried.
'That's all I need.'
'How long do you think it'll take?' Adam asked.
'Hard to say,' I answered. 'Hopefully not too long.'
I opened the front door. Adam held his half smoked cigarette in one hand and shook my hand with the other.
'Thank you very much for your help,' Adam said.
'Thank me when I've done something,' I said. I held the door open for him. 'I'll be in touch.'
'Okay,' said Adam trying to raise a smile, and he left.
I closed the front door and returned to the table. Yuri had disappeared.
'Yuri?' I asked.
I waited to see his image but saw nothing. It was my turn now to light a cigarette, which I did, and when I looked up from putting the lighter on the table, Yuri had returned, standing beside the empty chair Adam had been sitting in.
'You don't often appear to me,' I said. 'This must be important.'
'It is,' said Yuri.
I waited.
'Your first choice is whether you help the young man to find his father.'
Another pause.
'And the second choice revolves around your actions.'
'To what?'
'Knowing where his father is!'
'You make it sound like I'm going to hop on a plane, fly to Queensland and knock the guy off!'
'That was your desire once, to end his life.'
I remembered those feelings I'd once had. Gut wrenching anger and hate had me formulating various ways that I'd kill not only Adam's father, but the other two men who hurt me too, if I ever found them. Adam's father I'd hated the most though, because he was the ring leader. But with time, and spiritual growth, those feelings had passed. Also, what goes around comes around. As a Samurai warrior in my previous life, I'd killed the three men who'd attacked me in this life. Karma had brought them to me in this life as a pay-back of sorts. If I retaliated in this life, the karma of pay-back would return in another life, and so it would go on like a dog chasing its tail, unless someone broke the cycle, and I felt I'd done that.
'Yuri, I left behind what happened to me on the beach that night a long time ago.'
'Nothing is ever left behind,' he replied. 'Experience, be it negative or positive, is carried with you always!'
'I don't want to hurt anyone,' I said to him. 'I don't even want to see this guy. Just by letting it be, I break the cycle.'
'Not entirely,' said Yuri. 'You may come back in your next incarnation forgetting the goodwill you've decided upon now. You may still seek retribution.'
I looked to my cigarette. Half of it was now a bending ember of ash. I'd forgotten to smoke it. I recalled how on the day I'd spoken to Barry and Christian de Villiers on the Gold Coast, Christian had told me that Yuri would lead me to a man in Queensland.
'So what are you saying, Yuri?' I asked.
'You have a choice, my friend.' And he told me the name of a car yard in Brisbane where Adam's father worked.
'Use that information wisely. You've chosen for this situation to happen so that you could be told.'
And with that Yuri's image disappeared.
I sat quietly at the table in deep thought.
I heard some children laughing as they played next door.
I wondered if I'd ever laughed like that as a child. I couldn't remember.
Barry and Lisa met me at Coolangatta Airport. Barry had always said if I ever needed a place to stay I could stay with them, so I decided to take him up on his offer.
'Even before you called I knew we'd be seeing you soon,' he said as we walked through the terminal. 'Didn't I, Lisa?'
'He sure did. Every time the phone rang for two days before you called he said "That'll be Scott".'
'You're looking good,' I said to Barry.
'Things are good,' he said smiling. 'Thanks to you ...' then he put his arm around Lisa, 'and Lisa.'
'So is this business or pleasure?' asked Lisa.
'Business,' I answered.
'Well, you're welcome to stay for as long as you like,' said Barry.
'Thanks,' I said.
That night after dinner Lisa had some study to do for a marketing degree, leaving Barry and me to talk out on the back patio. I recalled the last time I'd been out here, Barry depressed and on the edge, with both forearms heavily bandaged after his suicide attempt. Tonight he sat in the same chair, tilting it back a little on its back legs, a stubbie of beer in his hand. He was comfortable and relaxed. A transition had certainly taken place.
'So how are you really?' I asked.
'Never better,' Barry answered. 'I'm working full-time, like the job, Lisa's great ... and I deal with the spooky stuff as it happens. Sometimes I just let it go, sometimes I look deeper. But I don't let it get me down.'
'Did your brother Phillip visit you again in spirit?' I asked.
'Yeah, a couple of times, just like you said he would once I was more centred. I found his presence to be very comforting.'
I knew what Barry meant. I felt the same about Yuri.
'But what about you, though?' said Barry. 'You don't seem your usual self.'
'No,' I answered. 'Things could be better, and they will be.'
'Anything I can help you with?' asked Barry.
'As a matter of fact, yeah.'
Barry drove me to the car yard where Yuri had said Adam's father worked. I didn't know what I was going to do if I saw the man, and didn't really even know why I was there. All I knew is that I had to come, and that I didn't want to do this on my own.
The car yard was big and sprawling, one of the major dealerships. Barry parked his car on the other side of the busy main road opposite it.
I felt empty.
'So what now?' Barry asked, knowing the whole story.
'Let's go check out some cars,' I said.
So across the road we went and wandered into the car yard. I saw only one salesperson, and he was talking to a customer.
'Just browse,' I said to Barry. 'See what happens.'
After a few moments, another salesperson was tailing us.
'Good morning, fellas,' he said cheerily with the standard approach. 'Anything particular you're looking for?'
'Is Tom working here today?' I asked.
'Yes, he's in the office.'
'Could he help us, please?'
The salesperson was a little miffed at my request, probably visualising a sale and commission flying out the window, but he handled my request professionally.
'I'll get him for you,' and off towards the main building he wandered.
I sighed.
'You okay?' Barry asked.
'Yeah.'
I occupied my scattered thoughts by focusing on the display slip details of a particular car that was for sale when a voice said: 'You gentlemen looking for me?'
The same ominous feeling that I'd felt when Adam knocked on the door swept through me. I hesitated at looking at Tom and heard Barry say: 'Yeah, some friends bought a car off you a while ago. They recommended that we speak to you when we came here.'
'Well, that's very good of them,' said Tom. 'What was their name?'
'Bennett.'
'Hmm,' said Tom trying to remember. 'Name doesn't ring a bell.'
'Well, they were very happy anyway,' said Barry.
'I'm pleased to hear that,' and he introduced himself by his full name to Barry. I finally looked at Tom as they shook hands.
He was balding and what hair was left was grey. His tailored suit held in an obvious pot belly. But it was him!
What am I doing here? I asked myself. Just get the hell out of here!
'And this is my friend Scott,' said Barry.
I deliberately walked around to the other side of the car and said hello from a safe distance so that Tom wouldn't try to shake my hand. There was no hint of recognition on his part towards me. But then I was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses trying to stay incognito.
'And which one of you gentlemen is looking for a car?' asked Tom.
'I am,' said Barry.
'Seen anything you like?' asked Tom.
'This Prelude looks impressive,' he replied.
And as Tom went into his spiel about what a great car it was I stayed at a distance and remembered how at age thirteen in the darkness of a secluded part of Glenelg beach I had been confronted by a more youthful Tom and his two friends. Tom had kicked my bike over, and pushed me to my knees. One of his mates grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back painfully. Tom had held a knife to my throat and threatened: 'Do what we tell you or you'll end up like the Beaumont kids!' I remembered how the knife had grazed my skin. I remembered my face being pressed down in the sand, how when I took a breath sand flew up my nostrils and into my mouth.
I remembered ... Everything.
But unlike the past tears and pain of remembering that night this day I was calm. I watched Tom talk to Barry and felt almost like it had happened to someone else. I thought about how often I'd planned to kill the man who now stood about four metres away from me.
I didn't feel like that now. One correctly positioned martial arts punch in the right place. That's all it would take. But it wasn't going to happen, not now, not ever, and I needed to affirm that with words.
'I let the pain of the past go,' I said softly while Barry continued to keep Tom occupied. 'The karmic cycle of destruction between this person, his friends and me ends here. Peace replaces anger, wisdom replaces ignorance. The future is my goal, the past is but a memory.'
Barry completed a surveying type walk around the Prelude and looked to me. I moved my head as a sign that we should leave.
'Well, thank you very much,' said Barry shaking Tom's hand. 'What I need to do now is discuss finance with my bank and get back to you. Do you have a card?' Barry asked.
Tom handed Barry his card and went into some financial talk. Barry courteously listened and I moved closer, right up to them. I stood there staring at Tom from behind my sunglasses, not an angry stare in any way, just enough to encroach in his space.
And it worked. He stopped midway through whatever he was saying and looked at me for a second, then returned to Barry and completed what he wanted to say.
'Well, I don't know if it'll be the Prelude or not,' said Barry, 'but I certainly need to sort out the finance first now I know what kind of price range the cars are that I'm looking for.'
'I understand,' said Tom knowing it was pointless to push anything further. 'I'll look forward to hearing from you. Perhaps I can help your mate find a car too.'
Standing right in front of Tom I lowered my sunglasses and stared right at him. 'I already found what I'm looking for,' I said. 'Thanks all the same.'
I saw a faint twig of recognition in Tom's eyes, but he couldn't place me.
Barry and I left the car yard and as we waited for a break in the traffic to cross the road Barry asked, 'Do you think he recognised you?'
'No, but he felt something when I looked in his eyes, that's for sure.'
'I'm surprised,' said Barry. 'I thought I'd feel angry but I didn't.'
'Probably because I'm not.'
There was a break in the traffic and we ran across the road to Barry's car.
'So is the mission accomplished?' Barry asked as he unlocked his car door.
'Once you give me his business card it will be.'
On my return to Adelaide I gave Adam his father's business card. He was blown away that I was able to find him, and I never let on that I'd known his father in the past.
And what happened between father and son? Well, after some initial phone calls Adam made to his father, they were eventually reunited. Tom had wanted to meet Adam, but was too scared to make contact for fear that Adam would push him away based on his father's past record of abuse, and understandably so. While Adam believes they'll never be really close for one reason or another, he did at least fulfill his wish to meet his dad, and Tom got his wish to meet his son.
So I, in turn, had done a favour, not only for Adam, but for his father. I did a favour for someone who'd hurt me, badly. By doing that, I truly broke the karmic cycle of pain that had followed Tom, me and his two friends from life to life. There would now be no retribution on my part in a future life as Yuri had warned could happen.
That karma, and its lesson, was completed.
By me!
14 - What Does Psychic Really Mean?
Psychic is one of the most misused and abused words that exists. People tend to attach the word psychic to any number of spooky events or experiences when it's really not the word that should be used. Sceptics think that if you say you're psychic that you can just pull predictions out of a hat - which isn't true - and they can't wait to nail you against the wall if you can't.
Some think if you're psychic that you can read people's minds. And of course, if you're psychic, why can't you pick the lotto numbers? The true essence of being psychic is connected with 'tuning' in to your higher self and listening to your inner voice. All information is out there, from the location of missing persons to the lotto numbers. But what you pick up on and how often depends on a) what direction your spiritual evolvement has taken, and b) what you have chosen to know on a psychic level in this life. And yes, everyone has a sixth or Psychic sense. Some messages that come on a psychic level are immediate, but many are random and not always something that can just be called in when you feel like it.
Being psychic means you have a developed spiritual awareness, and as a result can tune into certain things more easily than others, and are more open to working on the sixth sense, higher self, or inner voice level. We all have the same ability. We're just on different spiritual levels, and have different degrees of acceptance, if at all.
I accept my inner voice totally. If it speaks, I listen. And on a feeling level, while I haven't been able to pick the lotto numbers, I do get sudden urges. For example, I was driving along a main road in Adelaide one rainy winter day and suddenly had the urge to go to the TAB, even though I hadn't looked at the field for that day. I walked straight in, looked at the field for the next race in Adelaide and took two trifectas for a total cost of $315, mastering two horses with the rest of the field. It cleaned me out of cash, but I just followed my instincts.
'I hope you win,' the TAB cashier said as she handed me the tickets.
'I will,' I said.
And ten minutes later I was $5,035 better off.
It was a random happening, an impulse bet based on me following through when I had the feeling to go to the TAB. If you'd asked me five minutes earlier to tell you what two horses to master with the field, I couldn't have told you. I simply got the feeling to drop into the TAB, checked out the field, kept listening to the feeling and made my choices.
Everyone gets these feelings and I find that if luck is with you, it follows you. The next race in Adelaide that day was the Pick 4, where you have to pick the first four, horses across the line in correct order. The TAB paid me my winnings in cash and with all that money I decided to splash out. I picked seven horses and was going to 'box' them, which meant that if any four of those seven horses were the first four to come across the finish line then I'd win.
Well, to box seven horses in a Pick 4 is much more expensive than boxing horses in a trifecta and a single bet was going to cost me around $740.
You've just won five grand and now you're going to blow seven hundred just like that! No way, I scolded myself.
So I dropped one horse and had six runners boxed instead, which cost me $420.
I felt comfortable about spending that much. Well, the horse I dropped was the horse I needed as the fourth horse across the line.
If I'd kept the horse in I would've been the only person to have won the Pick 4 that day. I lost $420 and spewed as the $28,000 I would have won if I'd kept the horse in jackpotted to the following week's Pick 4 race. I had gone against my initial feeling.
On the Midday Show in late October, 1996, an illusionist came on and said that he could pick the first six runners of the Melbourne Cup. He wrote them down without the audience seeing them and went through a big routine of sealing the paper, having Midday host Kerri-Anne sign it, then sealing it in a loaf of bread and securing it in a container that was kept under guard at the Sydney Casino.
After the Melbourne Cup was run the gentleman came back on the show, went through the routine of retrieving the slip of paper, and yes indeed, it did list the first six runners in order that came across the line.
I was impressed.
He then challenged any psychic to come on the show and do what he had. This shows that he's one of many who don't understand what the word psychic really means, and it's a typical case of where the word is misused. Sure, anyone who operates on a psychic level may be able to pick the numbers if they have that random feeling that leads them to it, but I'm yet to meet anyone who can just pull information like that out of the air when they feel like it. Including the illusionist, a title which tells you there's a trick to his routine. But good on him, because he does it well. If he could do it all the time for real I'm sure he'd be living the high life in Monaco rather than performing on television.
Being psychic is also about picking up on energies. Sometimes, just as I do with people, I can pick up on energy from inanimate objects, like knowing when a car's going to break down, or a hot water service is going to blow up. But again it's still a random feeling and because of this, no one knows everything, and messages on a higher self level—such as flashes of the future which then become predictions—won't come across twenty-four hours a day.
For me, these random messages come when I least expect them, not when I want to call them in. I open myself up to the cosmos and every now and then I get a message. My first book Caught Between Two Worlds was released in July 1995 and featured a number of predictions which I made. If a prediction is about something good, you hope that it happens, but if it's bad, you make it in the hope that the person or persons will hear your warning and stop it from happening.
Amongst the predictions printed I said that December 1995 to February 1996 was a dangerous time for President Clinton to travel by air. I felt there'd be trouble with one of his helicopters when he travelled to Camp David.
Well, in January 1996 mechanical problems were reported on the President's helicopter. One source reported that if the fault hadn't been found the results could have been 'disastrous'. Other reports said the President at no time had been in danger.
Then, in the latter half of 1996, one of the President's back-up helicopters crashed, killing all on board.
I also predicted that November 1995 to January 1996 was the most dangerous period for nuclear weapons or components to fall into hostile hands. On August 13 1996, Prime Minister John Howard released and spoke on the findings of a one hundred and twenty page report investigating nuclear capability and the threat of nuclear terrorism.
It states that 'the possible acquisition by terrorist groups of nuclear weapons or material is a growing threat to the international community'.
Another prediction I made was that November 1995 to June 1996 was a dangerous period for Princess Diana, Prince William and Prince Harry. I said that extra care was needed, that Princess Diana must not drive alone and that she must increase security if visiting the United States between June 1996 and January 1997.
I'm glad this hasn't happened and I hope it never does. When Ron Casey asked me about this prediction on his Sydney radio program I said that if Princess Diana was involved in a car accident during 1996, such an incident would be a prelude to a threat to William's safety.
Well, Princess Diana's BMW was involved in an accident with another car in early 1996 while she was driving alone. Her immediate response was to flee the scene, dive into a taxi and head for the nearest police station, as she has been trained to do just in case' of ulterior terrorist motives for an 'accident'.
Now that 1996 has passed without incident to Prince William or Harry, I hope the danger period to them has also passed.
And by the way, on that same Ron Casey program I also said that O.J. Simpson would be found 'not guilty' of murdering his wife Nicole Simpson and her friend Ron Goldman.
Another prediction was that from November 1995 onwards the White House could be targeted from the air similar to a rocket attack on Number 10 Downing Street in Britain.
In March 1996 the FBI uncovered a terrorist plan to bomb the White House using rocket launchers and three cars laden with explosives. Those responsible were said to be linked to the bombing of the World Trade Centre. No arrests were made but the FBI attention appears to have thwarted the terrorists plans, for now.
I also said that from 1995 onwards there'd be major claims of authentic evidence of alien visitations to Earth, and that UFOs and Government cover-ups will become more prevalent with actual evidence becoming public.
You may have seen the alien autopsy footage which was shown on television in June 1995. It caused quite a stir. Whether you believe the grainy black-and-white film to be authentic or not, its screening certainly fired up discussion and brought the question of 'are we alone' right to the forefront.
Then, in August 1996, NASA went on record to say that we definitely weren't alone, that following the study of a meteor found in the Antarctic, some form of life had definitely existed on Mars. NASA's official and very public stand on this is something the likes of which hasn't been seen before. I believe it's part of an overall and eventual uncovering of the 'truth'.
I warned that Elie MacPherson must beware of a stalker between March and May of 1996. A mentally unbalanced woman was indicated.
Elie, Linda Evangelista and Cindy Crawford all had stalkers - including women - follow them in 1996.
And I said that Keanu Reeves must beware of driving dangerously or speeding at all times, particularly between April and June 1996.
In the last week of May 1996, Keanu Reeves came off his motor bike on Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood, when a car cut in front of him. He went flying through the air and shattered his ankle requiring surgery. Police said he was lucky not to have been killed.
Aside from those predictions, on the 1995 New Year's edition of the Psychic Saturday Night radio program I predicted that a bomb would explode at the Atlanta Olympics despite the security precautions and that the number 80 or 800 would be related. TWA Flight 800 blew up outside of New York a week before the games started. I also said that Madonna would be pregnant in 1996; Diana and Charles would divorce with Diana losing her royal title; John Howard would win by a landslide; that a black cloud hung over Tasmania and a mass murder there would gain world attention; that John F. Kennedy Jr would secretly marry, and that Kerri-Anne Kennerley would be the new host of Channel 9's Midday Show.
The thing about predictions is that you can only make them if you 'see' something in the first place, or get a 'flash' about something when you least expect it. The time I knew Brandon Lee's life was in danger I was home eating a sandwich and watching the Midday Show on which he was a guest.
Back in 1990 Jason Donovon walked past me on the set of the mini-series Shadows Of The Heart and I first 'saw' then that his future wasn't going to be rosy (I spoke about that in Caught Between Two Worlds in greater detail). Unfortunately Jason's major highs and lows continue, because he lets them continue. I wonder if Jason realizes how close to death he's been and how close again he'll come. He isn't meant to pass over young and I hope he doesn't. It is totally his choice.
Another person I tried to warn about a negative karmic cycle was former Home And Away star, Dieter Brummer. You may recall the negative publicity he incurred relating to possession of marijuana after the police pulled him over in his car. I did my best to speak to him before his face was plastered all through the press but I was blocked each time I tried. The young soap stars are carefully protected, which is understandable. 'Dieter's only interested in his girlfriend and trail bike riding,' I was told by Channel 7 publicity. 'He's a young guy living life to the full. Of course though, you could always write him a letter.'
Which I didn't, because there was no guarantee he'd get it. What I will say here though is that Dieter karmically walks a very fine line between the heights of recognition and the lows of humility and he'll face further trouble again, if he lets it happen.
In my first book Caught Between Two Worlds a chapter called 'Screenplay of Premonitions' told how I'd written a screenplay called Number One With A Bullet about a famous singer who's shot and killed while signing an autograph. The 1977 screenplay paralleled John Lennons' 1980 shooting almost word for word.
After being shelved I re-wrote the screenplay, changing the ill-fated pop star from being shot to dealing with alcohol and drug abuse. The project was up and running and we approached Andy Gibb to star. A story appeared in TV Week in August of 1982, but for a number of reasons the project stalled.
Andy Gibb died in 1988 in a series of events that paralleled that 1982 screenplay.
So then I changed the story from a singer to an actor who's blackmailed after being caught on video having sex with underage fans. Rob Lowe was approached to star, but while we were waiting for a response he was caught out in real-life similar circumstances.
In Caught Between Two Worlds I wrote how I'd rewritten the screenplay, shown it to a number of industry friends and was waiting to see if my revised story would parallel a real-life situation again.
I called the screenplay Billy Boy after trying to think of a name while watching a film clip of Billy Ray Cyrus. It was the first thing that came to mind so I stuck with it, thinking 'it's meant to be'. The screenplay was now about a famous actor whose son is killed when his car breaks down on a lonely road.
In January 1997, Bill Cosby's son Ennis was shot and killed when his car broke down at a lonely spot in the Hollywood Hills ... Billy Boy.
I have no wish to rewrite the screenplay again.
As for additional predictions, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman need to increase security around their children between June and November of 1997 and then in May of 1998. An extortion attempt against them is also indicated but is a separate issue. Brad Pitt shouldn't let warning signs that his health isn't one hundred per cent go unchecked, nor should David Letterman. Pamela Anderson isn't out of the woods with regards to personal injury inflicted by the hands of others, and closer to home, neither is politician Pauline Hanson.
And now that you have a greater insight into being psychic and what it means perhaps you'd like to try out your own abilities. Have you 'picked up' on certain feelings and thoughts as you've read this book? Had a 'flash' or two about the future or your own spiritual journey? 'Seen' some 'things' which surprised you? Then your psychic awareness is being activated.
Hidden within this book and my previous release Caught Between Two Worlds are certain words and sentences which form psychic clues to future events surrounding:
• the Sydney 2000 Olympics;
• the British Monarchy;
• the Pope;
• a real-life X-File situation for series star Gillian Anderson;
• California and earthquakes;
• the relation of life on Mars and Earth;
• and a major 'find' in Australia.
There are also psychic clues to the mystery behind the disappearance of the Beaumont Children.
And a particular purpose between two Hollywood and one Australian star who have experienced alien abduction and have an on-going extra terrestrial connection.
Remember, part of being psychic means listening to your inner voice. The extent you listen determines how quickly you find your inner truth, which in turn has a direct path to your subconscious and spirit.
'Feeling' and 'knowing' are all part of your inner voice that operates on the higher self or psychic level.
Your spiritual purpose for being here this time around, what you have to offer yourself and others, and what you've learned about love, honesty and compassion are the key to your part in a happy and positive future. The more you learn about yourself and your spirituality, the greater role you can play in making the world a better place, no matter how insignificant you think the action is.
My Japanese friend Yuri once read to me six lines that are the centre stone of the spiritual beliefs of the Grand Masters of the martial arts and the truth of being psychic.
Look to the stars
Open your heart
And listen to your soul
As your spirit soars
So you will shine
Like Sunrise At Midnight
It was a stormy, windy night and I needed to go to my car for my diary. My house is built on the side of a hill, with the road being at a higher level than the house. A walkway runs up along the side of the house to the road. I opened the back door. Wind and rain blew in under the verandah towards me. I really didn't want to go out in that type of weather, but I needed my diary. I grabbed my raincoat which was hanging on the laundry door and rather than wear it I hung it over myself as protection from the elements.
Just before I reached the path to the road 'something' told me to stop.
So I froze on the spot, listening, looking. Nothing. Just the trees rustling in the gully winds, and the rain stinging my face as the wind pelted it sideways rather than down.
False alarm, I thought, going against my inner voice. I went to step forward and was 'told' to stop again.
'What, Yuri?' I asked out loud.
No other message came across.
Bugger this, I thought. So I ran up the steps, got the diary and ran back down the steps.
Just as I passed the place where I'd been told to stop, a loud cracking noise rang out like a cannon shot, and half the side of a giant gum tree came crashing down as if someone had cut it with a chain saw. It fell covering the front yard, the path, and half the roof of the house. The only thing that stopped it crashing through the house was the fact that the land and stepped path were fractionally higher than the flat galvanised iron roof of the house at the point where the tree landed. Broken branches embedded into the concrete of the path.
Thirty-seven metres of four metre width tree came crashing down, and where I was 'told' to stop was just before the place where it fell.
I should've listened to my inner voice. Why didn't you, I thought, scolding myself.
Later that night my head had only just hit the pillow when I heard my cat crying at the back door to come in. I'd forgotten all about him. I wondered where he'd been hiding during the storm. So out of bed I climbed and I made my way through the house to the back door without putting any lights on.
Through the door rushed my rain-soaked cat and I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and dried him off. Throwing the towel back in the bathroom, I made it back towards the bedroom and slipped on a plastic shopping bag which I'd left lying on the carpet in the lounge room. I lost my balance, stumbled forward and put out my hands to grab onto something. But my head made contact before my hands did and I smashed my forehead against the corner of a bookcase. Man, did it hurt!
I stood there dazed and mentally tried sending the pain away while my cat wrapped itself round my legs wanting me to give it something to eat. Working through such pain was something I'd grown used to when doing Martial Arts. I'd had plenty of practice taking a fist to the head, blocking the pain and continuing to fight back without dropping my guard. I sat down in a chair, my cat still determined to get something to eat. I reached up to my forehead and touched the area that I'd hit, right where the third eye is. I felt wetness on my forehead. Obviously I'd broken the skin and it was bleeding.
Ignoring my cat and his constant affection I went to the kitchen and grabbed a packet of frozen peas from the fridge. I bashed it around on the counter to loosen up the ice and then placed it on my forehead which stung like crazy. I could only handle it for a short while and soon put the peas back in the freezer.
The next day I felt okay. While there was some swelling there wasn't any bruising. The frozen peas had done the trick.
With things to do in the city I headed out. Standing at one of the crowded intersections I began to feel, well ... strange. I didn't feel faint or anything. The only way to describe it is that I felt I wasn't there.
Hmm, this isn't good, I thought. I might have a concussion. So rather than be a hero I phoned my doctor and was able to see him an hour later.
He made me walk in a straight line, follow his finger, all that type of thing and I passed with flying colours.
'You definitely don't have a concussion,' he said as he prepared to take my blood pressure. 'You're very lucky.'
'I feel fine,' I said rolling up my sleeve.
'You always feel fine,' he said wrapping the blood pressure gizmo round my arm. 'Martial Arts has taught you a high pain threshold. You could walk in here with a broken leg and tell me you're fine.'
'Isn't that better than whingeing and wanting endless prescriptions?' I said.
'Not if you're really sick!'
He put the stethoscope in his ears and pumped away on the blood pressure unit, the band tightening around my arm as he did.
'So how is it?' I asked as he took the stethoscope out of his ears and unwrapped the band.
'Not good. I think we have reason for concern here.'
'What's it supposed to be?' I asked.
'Well normal is around one hundred and twenty over eighty.'
'What's mine?'
'One hundred and eighty over one hundred and forty. You been under any stress lately?'
Hah, I thought. 'Not really,' I answered.
'Scott!' he said sternly, disbelieving my reply.
'Well,' I began, knowing I'd been caught out. 'Yeah, things have been a little stressful lately.'
My doctor walked back to the other side of his desk and sat down. 'Well, it could just be the trauma from hitting your head. I'd like to check out your blood pressure again in a week and see what it reads and then discuss our options.'
A week later it was one hundred and fifty over one hundred and twenty.
'Still not good,' said the doc. 'I think we need to run some blood tests. See if that'll give us some clues.'
He filled out all the appropriate forms and told me where to go to get the tests done.
As I left his surgery I pictured blood tests and bad news and tablets and the beginning of an endless run of becoming dependent on medication. No, that wasn't for me. I'd find the answer to what was 'wrong' elsewhere!
That night I visited my friends Cleve and Leanne at Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills. They picked up on the fact that I wasn't my usual self, and I explained what had gone down at the doctor's. A friend of theirs, Christine, who was also visiting them that night told me how she'd been to see a person she described as 'the most amazing man'. He lived at Mannum on the River Murray, and Christine told me how this man had, through his spiritual abilities, cured her of all her ills.
'It takes months to get in to see him,' Christine told me. 'And he doesn't charge anything. Says he's been told that his powers will be taken away from him if he does.'
'How old is he?' I asked.
'Glen's eighty-five, I think. His wife's a couple of years older. She takes notes while he tells you what's wrong with you. Apparently he's been offered millions to go overseas and teach what he knows but he's not interested.'
'He's the guy I need to see, then,' I said.
'Well, I tell you what,' Christine said. 'I'm booked in to see him in a couple of weeks' time. Why don't you go in my place? You need it more than me!'
'Are you sure?'
'Positive. I'll phone and tell him that you're coming.'
Two weeks later I parked outside Glen's house which had a choice location up on a hill with sweeping views of Mannum and the River Murray. I'd picked up Cleve so that he could come with me on the drive. I'd had a really rotten day, and if Glen was going to tell me any other bad news concerning my health I didn't want to hear it on my own. I'd already been warned by others who had seen him that if you've got something bad like cancer, he'll tell you.
Carrying a bowl of mixed fruit as an offering for his services, Cleve and I made our way up the steep footpath to Glen's front door.
'How do you feel?' asked Cleve.
'A little nervous,' I admitted.
Because my blood pressure had been up I'd had time enough to assume that something was amiss somewhere. I just hoped it was nothing too serious and if it was I'd do my best to 'tell' it to go away.
I rang the doorbell and Glen answered, a sprightly tall man who looked much younger than eighty-five. His wife joined him at the door and they welcomed us. We entered and stood in the lounge room and after giving Glen and his wife the fruit, pleasantries were exchanged.
'So who's the victim?' asked Glen humorously.
'Me,' I said.
'Well, I'll get you to sit just over here,' he said, indicating a large rocking chair in the corner of the room. I did so.
'Now I need you to take off rings, watches, any jewellery,' Glen advised.
I took off my ring and handed it to Cleve. I don't wear a watch but thought about the karate pendant which I wear on a chain around my neck.
'This too?' I asked.
'Yep. That'll deplete your energy by about seven per cent,' he said as I took it off.
I couldn't believe how agile Glen and his wife were. She sat at a table in a corner of the lounge room opposite me. Cleve sat in a chair just near her while Glen stood to my right and turned off the gas heater in the fireplace.
'That interferes with things too,' he told me. 'Now,' he said dangling a small pendulum in his right hand. 'Are you ready?'
'Yes.'
He hung the pendulum over my right hand and asked if this was the hand to get a correct reading on my body's health from. The pendulum didn't move.
'No, that's not it,' he said.
He moved around to the other side of the chair and repeated the question, dangling the pendulum over my left hand. This time the pendulum swung wildly backwards and forwards.
'This is it,' he said, and Glen put the pendulum aside while he placed some folded material under my left forearm.
'Now don't scratch yourself or touch your body with your right hand while I'm doing this,' he told me. 'It messes up the process.'
Every question Glen asked was spoken out loud, for example does this body have eighty per cent of (he used some medical term which I can't remember) in its bloodstream. The pendulum would swing and Glen would count down the percentage . . .'seventy-five ... seventy ... sixty-five ... ' until the pendulum hovered at the correct reading . . .'Make it seventy,' Glen would tell his wife who'd then write it down. Each time Glen asked a question I'd feel a prickling, tingling sensation in my palm and on the top of my left hand.
Now I'm telling you, this process isn't for the faint hearted. Glen worked his way through everything, asking if my body had leukemia, AIDS and various other maladies, Candida, arthritis. You name it, he asked.
'Does this body have any cancer?' Glen asked.
I sat rigid, hoping that the pendulum wouldn't move in the positive. It moved and I waited for Glen's answer.
'You're okay there,' he asked.
I glanced to Cleve who smiled gratefully, because the answer was negative, and because he wasn't the person Glen was working on.
Then Glen asked questions about other body parts including my lungs. 'Hmm,' he said. 'Your right lung's only reading sixty. Do you smoke?'
'Yes.'
'Well, you'd better stop,' he told me. 'Sixty means there's deterioration.'
Then Glen asked a question of the pendulum which I didn't understand and announced, 'You've got gallstones. Have you been getting pain under here?' he asked holding a hand to the bottom of his right ribcage.
'Yes,' I said. 'For the past month or so.'
I'd figured I had gallstones and had stopped drinking milk and cut as much fat out of my diet as possible.
'I'll put you on a program to get rid of them,' Glen told me. 'Based on apple juice, all it takes is seven days and you can catch the stones on the way out if you like.'
Beats watching a video, I suppose!
Glen also found a kidney stone forming and told me he'd help me get rid of that as well. He worked through hardening of the arteries to the neck, heart and everywhere. It was all pretty clear.
'Well, you're not a candidate for a stroke or heart attack,' he told me.
'So why's my blood pressure so high?' I asked.
'Your diet's all over the place. You're not eating properly,' he said.
And he was right. I never ate at set times, usually just when I felt like it, and it was often junk food.
'You've got thrush in your stomach,' he told me, 'from not eating properly. That's what's throwing your system around.'
He asked the pendulum a question in medical terms about my blood pressure.
'It's one hundred and thirty over one hundred and ten,' he told me. 'A little high, but not too bad. Diet will fix it.'
Goodbye blood tests, I thought.
Glen then worked his way through all the food groups to find what foods were of benefit to me. I was feeling more relaxed now because we'd got through the serious illness stage of things. I was to learn that orange vegetables were out and green vegetables were in. No bread, no peanuts, no lots of things. Fortunately many of the foods that were good for me were favourites, all based around rice.
'Don't drink coffee, it causes cancer,' warned Glen, and then he worked his way through a list of cancer-causing drinks and substances, all of which I'd eaten or drunk throughout my life.
'All of them?' I questioned.
'They all cause cancer,' Glenn reiterated.
The pendulum was finally put away and Glen pulled up a stool and massaged and manipulated certain parts of my feet, hitting pressure points to relieve stress, to boost the capacity of my right lung, and to help shift the kidney and gallstones. AH up, he worked on me for two hours. During the course of that two hours he told endless stories of medical professionals from around Australia coming to see his work, and of people he'd cured of cancer, arthritis and many other ills.
'One person was brought to me in a wheelchair,' Glen told me, 'and three months later they were walking again.'
'So how did you discover you had this gift?' I asked.
'I was walking down the street minding my own business when a voice spoke to me and told me this is what I had to do.'
That had been seven years earlier, and now Glen was eighty-five and as sprightly as a twenty year old.
Before leaving, an appointment was made for two months later to check my progress.
'Don't worry, Scott,' Glen told me as we left. 'Whatever you've got we can fix it! Maybe we'll get you in the chair next time, Cleve,' he added.
Cleve smiled and said: 'We'll see what happens.'
Our goodbyes said, Cleve and I walked down the steep path from the front door to where my car was parked.
'You're a better man than I am,' said Cleve. 'I don't think I could go through that. I don't want to know.'
'Well, I'm going to quit cigarettes again, that's for sure,' I said. 'But not quite yet. Sitting in that chair is a stress out. I need a cigarette!'
Having dropped Cleve off I was on the drive back to Adelaide from Hahndorf it was raining and there weren't many cars on the road. Suddenly, I felt that familiar spiritual 'tap' on my shoulder, and just as suddenly I saw a little girl standing on the side of the freeway ahead!
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. A little girl couldn't possibly be out on the road at this time of the night ... could she?
But there she was.
I slowed down and actually passed her before I could bring my car to a full stop. Ignoring the steady rain, but leaving the engine running, I got out of the car.
The little girl had blonde hair that hung in ringlets to her shoulders. She wore a light coloured knee length dress with flowers on it, white socks and dark shoes.
As I walked towards her I asked: 'Are you lost, sweetheart?'
She didn't answer.
As I drew closer I noticed that even though it was raining, she wasn't wet. Her hair looked as shiny and clean as if she was walking in bright sunshine. When I was no more than three metres away from her, she disappeared. She was a ghost who looked as physical as a real person!
By now I was drenched and standing on the side of the freeway taking in what had happened. So peculiar did it look, that the driver of a passing semi pulled his rig over, got out and asked me if everything was okay.
'I think I hit a koala,' was the lame response I came up with, 'but it must have crawled away. Thanks for stopping,' I added.
Back in my car and on my way again I thought about how often I say to people that spiritual experiences happen when you least expect them ... even to me! You may not always know why the experience happened at the time. But remember.
It was meant to be!
We all have our turn on life's roller-coaster and I'm often asked what spiritual stories other than my own have truly touched my heart and uplifted me. Well, here are some of those stories and I'm sure once you read them they'll strike as deep a chord with you just as they have with me.
The first story concerns the 1985 experience of Jackie, a young American school teacher. Picture a cheeky grin, sparkling eyes and the child-like qualities of a little pixie and you have Jackie, an overseas teacher at a Cairo American school.
Jackie was on her way to Cairo when she and ninety-seven people aboard a jet were hijacked. Twelve hours later the jet landed in Malta, but not before those on board were toyed with by the terrorists who did things like press a loaded gun to the side of Jackie's head and ask her if she was scared.
On landing in Malta the terrorists demanded the plane be refuelled or they'd start executing the passengers randomly. The terrorists had the passengers' passports, so they knew what nationality they were. While authorities determined what they'd do in response to the hijackers' demands, every fifteen minutes a passenger was picked out, shot in the head and thrown off the plane onto the tarmac. Four passengers were shot and thrown off the plane before Jackie. She was to be the fifth. From here I'll let Jackie tell her story.
I knew it was my turn to be shot, it was my turn to die. And I just let it go. I said, Okay God, whatever happens, happens. But I had a tremendous desire to live. I had such a wonderful life. So by letting go, my body became safe and I had no fear.
One of the terrorists shot me from behind in the back of the head and I felt this heavy feeling in my head. Then they threw me out of the plane, down the stairs and onto the tarmac where I landed face first.
I found out later the bullet didn't enter my brain. It deflected and came to rest implanted in my skull, acting as a kind of cork to any blood.
Anyway, I lay there playing dead, holding my breath, because I'd learnt my lesson earlier. An Israeli woman was shot before me and once they threw her out of the plane she moved, so they came down to the tarmac and shot her again, and she moved again so they kept shooting her until she died. I was on the plane thinking why doesn't she just lie there and play dead! Listening to what they did to her was my lesson, so I lay there and played dead, going in and out of sleep, at the same time feeling like I was surrounded by love.
An energy, a spirit inside me said: be calm, you're going to be okay. When I thought it was safe, I opened my eyes and looked up at the blue sky and beautiful white clouds, and I remember thinking, I can't believe that something so awful is happening on such a beautiful day!
I closed my eyes and could hear the plane engines. Then my grandmother who'd been dead for two years came for me. Dressed in white, she reached out to me. Our fingertips touched, and she said, 'It's time to go.' I lifted out of my body and as I was rising I saw myself lying on the tarmac.
Then my grandmother and I went into darkness and I didn't hear the engines anymore. I guessed what was happening. This was death to me. Don't get me wrong, I felt real peaceful and safe, but I didn't want to go. So somewhere towards the white light I said to my grandmother: 'I love you, but I don't want to go yet'.
And that's when our fingertips stopped touching, she went to the light and I woke up with a jolt and heard the plane engines again. I also heard other vehicles coming towards me and someone over a megaphone saying: 'Okay, you can pick her up now'.
Two people picked me up by the armpits and slammed me down on a metal bed. They thought I was dead because everyone else who was shot in the head died. We started to move and there's a man on my right side who didn't like looking at my gun wound so he flipped me over, which I wasn't expecting. I gasped for air and he yelled: 'She's alive!'
I asked: 'Are you the good guys or the bad guys?' And he said: 'We're the medics', and the truck was re-routed from the morgue to the hospital.
While five people including Jackie were shot in the head, fifty-nine out of ninety-eight passengers were killed by the hijackers when the Egyptian commandos stormed the plane. Jackie had skull fragments removed from her brain which also meant removing some brain tissue. As a result she now has varying speech, seeing and learning difficulties, but she continues to teach, concentrating on disabled children, or as Jackie describes them, 'those who I am now'.
How important is it to listen to your inner voice?
A young bride had a dream the night before her wedding warning her that she and her husband-to-be would die if they went through with their wedding. Both avid skydivers, they and a marriage celebrant were scheduled to jump into the wild blue yonder and get married fifteen hundred metres above the ground.
Fearing the dream was warning that their parachutes wouldn't open, checks and double checks were carried out the following day. Confident nothing would go wrong, the wedding went ahead. Everything went to plan, the young couple were declared man and wife. The sky diving celebrant landed back on solid ground but the newlyweds were blown off course and landed down a giant cooling chimney at a nuclear power plant.
Needless to say they didn't survive the radioactive boiling water.
Peter Jones should have listened to his inner voice too. It warned him not to drive his car on the M5 motorway in the United Kingdom. But Peter went against how he felt and drove on the M5, crashing his car and impaling himself on a fence post.
Twenty-year-old Peter didn't lose consciousness, and saw the post sticking out of him and thought he was dead. He doesn't remember how he managed to loosen the fence post from the ground as he was still sitting in the car, but he got out of the car and started walking for help with the fence post sticking out of him.
The fence post kept catching on the undergrowth, so he pulled it out. Struggling, he climbed the embankment and flagged down a passing car.
He made a complete recovery. He was lucky. Or is it really luck? Perhaps it's 'something' else! Sometimes ignoring your inner voice can lead to events felt around the world.
On the flight recorder taken from the ill-fated Challenger space shuttle which blew up soon after take-off in 1986, it was revealed that the astronauts didn't die when the space shuttle exploded, but when the cabin of the shuttle fell into the Atlantic Ocean and they drowned. Amongst the screams and confusion, heard on the flight recorder one of the two female astronauts on board speaks (investigators were unable to distinguish which astronaut exactly).
She says: 'I knew this would happen. I told you my dream. It's just like my dream four days ... ago. I should have listened to my ... a premonition ... I told you ...'
Actor Richard Lawson who played Lucas Barnes on the long running soapie All My Children didn't follow his gut feeling on 22 March 1992 and the plane he was on lost control on the runway at LaGuardia Airport, New York and crashed into nearby Flushing Bay.
Miraculously, Richard walked away from the crash.
He'd been booked on a flight from New York to Cleveland on Monday 23 March. But when the weather report said that a snowstorm was coming in on Sunday night he switched his reservation from Monday morning to Sunday evening to try and beat the snowstorm. But it blew in early on the Sunday afternoon and many flights were delayed, including Richard's.
He sat in seat 6A, not quite first class, but close enough. However someone who worked for the airline knew Richard and offered him a spare seat - IF in first class. Seat 6B next to Richard's original seat 6A had been left clear by the airline so that he wouldn't be hassled by any fans on the plane. When Richard moved to first class two ladies who wanted to sit together took those seats.
Richard now tells the story.
I'm sitting in IF and I heard them de-icing the plane on the right hand side [a truck sprays water on the plane much like a person would hose down a car if left out on a frosty morning]. I start getting a 'sensation' that I've felt before on several occasions, a 'sensation' or 'feeling' that tells me that something is wrong! I became very nervous and my instincts told me to get off the plane!
I didn't. I just sat there scolding myself for being stupid.
So the truck de-iced the right side and drove behind the plane to do the other side when the pilot came on and said: 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unusual situation here. The truck has stalled at the back of the plane and until we get it fixed we can't move. Please be patient. Once they fix it we'll give the plane a good wash down and we'll be on our way.' And he also said: 'For you flap watchers, the flaps are up because we don't want to kick ice into the wings on our way to take-off.'
Well, by now I'm just churning inside. I'm paying attention to everything. My mind is focused on what's going on because I have this fear running rampant in me about the decision to stay on or get off, and I know that if I get off the plane I'm going to miss a very important meeting in Cleveland.
Anyway, the truck gets fixed, goes around to the left hand side and gives that side of the plane a cursory wash. By cursory I mean that the sound of the washing didn't have the same complete kind of sound as when they washed the right hand side. Well, now I'm in panic, the plane's taxiing towards the runway and the pilot comes on and says that there's seven planes in front of us and that it's going to take about ten minutes to work our way down the line and take off. And I think, yeah, right, it's going to take about half an hour!
Then I think about the last time they washed the right hand side. It was over half an hour ago. So that means by the time we take off it's going to be a full hour since they de-iced the right side and a half hour since de-icing the left side which I still believed they hadn't done as well as the right.
I'm in hell by now. My inner self is telling me to stand up and demand to get off the plane, or go knock on the door and tell the pilot that they didn't wash the plane down properly!
I didn't do either.
We go to take off, I'm writhing in my chair in fear, we go down the runway and the plane's not going fast enough. We go to take off and I think there's not enough speed. I don't feel that 'sit down' feeling you get when the plane sits and then rises.
We take off slowly and the plane starts to roll, and roll, and roll!
Now I'm swearing out loud. I was upset. I was angry, not because the plane was rolling but because I didn't 'listen' to my inner sense. Because now I 'knew' we were going to crash.
And we did.
The plane hit once, and hit a second time and I saw an orange flash outside the window. Then the plane went into a kind of nowhere land and I had no idea what was going on, even though I remained conscious the whole time.
It was then that the thought came to me, I can't believe I'm in a plane crash.
The plane had veered off the runway and crashed upside down into Flushing Bay plunging into total darkness and I'm hanging upside down held in by my seat belt. I use all my force to move but I'm trapped. I've got things all around me and I can't move. My face is pressed up against something and I'm struggling.
I was also thinking that I didn't have much time.
Then 'something' said 'stop struggling'. You see, I didn't want the people who loved me to feel my spirit struggle. I didn't want them to imagine a plane crash and think that I died horribly. I wanted them to get the message that I was peaceful and okay. So there I am trapped, hanging upside down and I relaxed.
I let my body be calm.
Then something else came over me and I said out loud: "Now take off your seat belt and get out!" So I took my seat belt off and started moving things away from me. I can't see a thing and it's been at least two minutes since the crash now so I'm oxygen deficient.
I'm trying to get to the top of the plane, or what I perceive to be the top—and what felt like my last breath was really my first. I broke through something and started gasping as I consumed water and jet fuel. I couldn't breathe properly because the jet fuel just grips you so tightly. I now realise that I'm above water and I can't believe it. I see hydraulic lines and wires and there's fire reflecting off metal surfaces. The plane's upside down and I'm now in what was the baggage compartment.
Then a forearm and hand comes down to me and says: 'Let me help you.' I reach for the arm, I can't see the person, don't know where they came from, but they help me through a hole in the side of the plane. I stand up on a piece of metal about the size of a queen size bed. It was actually part of the plane that had been torn and laid over. I'm still gasping for air and the person who helped me goes and looks over the other side of the plane.
All of a sudden the fire around the plane lit up just like if you put a match to an oven that's had a build up of gas. And I said: 'Oh shit, the plane's going to explode!' I scrambled over the top of the plane and that's when I saw how far from the shore I was. But I can't go that way because there's jagged pieces of metal like razor blades. I'd cut myself to pieces. So I jump into the water and the person who helped me says: 'It's not that deep, you can walk.'
This surprised me because it was deep enough for the plane to be under water. Anyway, I kind of walked and ran through the water, it's hard to explain what I did. I got to the shore, turned around and the person who helped me starts 'walking' back to the plane. He came with me to the shore, saw me safely there and left.
That was the last time I saw him. I couldn't tell you what that person looks like, I couldn't describe his face. I believe that person was my higher self, or my higher self was working through that person.
Everything about being in a plane crash tells you that you're powerless and that's it! But there's an old saying 'Every goodbye ain't gone', and somewhere in the process there's always, through whatever energy sources, a way to overcome. And I believe that to be true not only in this situation but in everything you face in life.
Now remember how Richard had initially been sitting in 6A but moved to 1F and two ladies moved to 6A and 6B so they could sit together. Well, the lady sitting in 6A where Richard first sat, died. If that's not ironic enough initially she'd been sitting in 6B but her friend didn't like the window seat so they swapped seats.
Her friend lived.
Richard was amongst twenty-four people who survived. Twenty-seven people died during the actual crash and eighteen people drowned after the crash.
I believe it was Richard's ability to give up the struggle that gave him the power to escape and survive.
And for you it's the same, no matter what situation you find yourself in just as Jackie did in the first story.
And the last story I'd like to share with you is about a very old soul who came back in a very young body - Garvin Byrne who died in April 1985, aged eleven. No one who listened to this young child speak walked away from the experience unmoved. He was truly inspirational, and when he did speak it was easy to forget that the words were coming out of the mouth of an eleven-year-old boy.
Garvin's ill health began when he was born and failed to start breathing. Brought through that trauma, he was later confined to a special baby unit where he was diagnosed with a rare bone marrow disease called Francone's Anaemia. This caused a disability with Gavin's joints, and by the time he reached eleven he was only the size of a five-year-old.
Garvin spent his last days at a hospice for terminally ill children. He spent much of that time going around and speaking to the children in the hospital and their parents, trying to uplift them any way he could.
When Garvin was told he was going to die he said at first that he was very frightened, but that as his death grew nearer he felt 'almost as if I want to go there'.
When Garvin was asked if he found it hard being so small for his age he replied 'Yes, mainly around other children. I find it particularly hard at first to get on with them because they say to me, "Really? Are you eleven years old? You can't be that age, you're only the size of a five-year-old!" And this used to upset me, but then I began to realise that they didn't really understand what had happened to me.
So I tried to explain as best I could to a small child what my illness was and why I was so small. Sometimes they understood and sometimes they didn't. I do get angry about it sometimes but I know that I shouldn't.'
Garvin was asked whether he thought about his illness much.
'I try not to think about it. I keep myself busy with lots of other things. I like to draw and play and I have a tutor who I do all my special subjects with. My favourite subject is art, and my second favourite is maths. It's very rare that I have time to sit down and think about myself because I'm always doing active things.
'But you know, when I talk to God I thank him for the positives I've got because I can walk. I can do lots of things that other children can't do. And I don't think it matters how handicapped you are or how sick. You always succeed in something. God gave us all a gift, and it's finding the gift and keeping it going and practising it each day that makes it special.'
Remember, the boy saying this is eleven years old!
In July 1984, as a special surprise to Garvin, his mother took him to Wimbledon. The local police had heard about this special boy and made his day even more memorable by giving his taxi an escort into the grounds. There he was met by some of the star players of Wimbledon including Pat Cash and the number one seed at the time, John McEnroe, who was Garvin's hero.
As Garvin's health failed he spoke about where he'd go when he died.
'I will leave this body behind,' he said. 'This body is only a reflection, a sort of tag that says I'm Garvin so that you can recognise me. And when I die, the real me, that inner self me, will leave that reflection and go to God. It's just like this, you close your eyes and go to sleep, and the next minute you open your eyes again and you're in a beautiful place where you can stay with Jesus forever. And all my friends who were once on earth and now there, well, when my time comes I will see them again and be reunited with those I've lost.'
Garvin said he believed death to be 'Joyful, happy, complete suffering and pain over and done with.'
And when asked what would happen to the people he left behind, Garvin said 'I believe Christ will look after my family and whatever their needs are I believe that he'll provide for them. But I'll always be there in the midst of my family. They may not see me, but I'll be there looking after them all the time.'
When he died Garvin's mother had this to say:
'After Garvin's haemorrhage he changed dramatically and began to grasp in a very mature way things that people only seem to grasp when they're fifty, sixty or seventy years of age.
You can ask what was it, what is it or you can say why did he have it and other people don't?
I can't answer those questions.
All I know is that Garvin had it, that I still haven't got it, that I'm searching for it and I want it!
In the end he was a very peaceful person, very much in touch with his inner self, his inner consciousness, something that I myself haven't even touched on.'
I hope Garvin, Richard and Jackie's stories have touched you in the same way they have me, offering you a sense of peace, security, and understanding. There is a bigger picture out there than meets the eye. Garvin's mum referred to the bigger picture as it. Within the martial arts it's referred to as the great as is.
And so, my search and yours for the truth that is continues.
My appearance on Bert Newton's Good Morning Australia promoting Caught Between Two Worlds resulted in some people whom I hadn't seen for many years contacting me. I, like everyone else, suffer from mental blanks, and the weeks after the interview I recognised all the names of people who'd contacted me except for one.
'Wait a sec,' I said speaking on my mobile to Leanne who handles all my messages. 'This Jane, what's her full name again?'
Leanne told me.
'I've never heard of her,' I told Leanne. 'Did I go to school with her?' I asked.
'She's Paul's sister,' said Leanne.
And the penny dropped! Paul, my best friend who had died when he was eighteen almost twenty years ago. This was his sister Jane!
'I haven't seen her since Paul died,' I told Leanne.
'Well, she saw you on TV and has been trying to track you down ever since.'
It was Jane's married surname that had thrown me. I didn't know her by that name. A couple of years younger than me, she'd always been floating around in the background when I was over at Paul's place. We didn't have a lot in common so I'd never got to know her that well.
I went outside and found a reasonably quiet spot to use my mobile and dialed the number Jane had left.
'Jane, it's Scott.'
'Scott!' There was excitement in her voice. 'Thank you so much for calling me back!'
Jane's mature voice seemed out of place to me. It was hard to imagine that almost twenty years had passed since I'd seen her, and the last time I had she was only thirteen years old.
'I must admit I'm surprised to hear from you after all these years,' I said.
'Yes, it's been a long time, hasn't it. You've certainly come a long way in the world. I can't believe I saw you on television. I don't usually watch Bert Newton.'
'Well, I've come to accept that some things are just meant to be,' I said.
I felt a strange awkwardness. It was difficult striking up a conversation with someone whom I hadn't seen for so long. And to be perfectly honest, Jane and I really hadn't had that much to say to each other when I did know her.
'I always thought you'd end up doing something like this,' Jane told me. 'You know, be in the public eye. So a book, huh?'
'Yeah.'
'All that kind of stuff fascinates me,' said Jane. 'I bought your book right away and just couldn't put it down. Even Tony, that's my husband, he's reading it now and he wouldn't normally be interested in something that wasn't connected with football. They're all football mad here in Victoria.'
'What did you think of what I wrote about Paul?' I asked.
'You got his character down to a T,' she answered. 'I felt like he was actually saying the words to me as I read it.' She paused. 'It made me cry too.'
'Hey listen,' I said, 'the next time I'm in Melbourne we'll have to catch up.'
There was another pause.
'Jane?'
'Oh, I'm sorry, yes, yes I'd love to catch up with you.'
'Something wrong?' I asked.
'Oh no ... no not at all ...'
I waited through another pause and held the mobile phone tighter to my ear to block out some traffic noise from the nearby road.
'Well, I know this is going to sound crazy, but something really weird happened with my son Dylan. He's only five and he's never met you, but when he saw you on TV he started pointing and saying: "Spocky, Spocky!"'
The bottom fell out of my stomach.
'Paul used to call you that after Spock in Star Trek because of that energy thing you used to do with your hands at school!'
I took a deep breath. Nothing much fazed me usually, but what Jane was telling me had knocked me for a six.
'And you know,' Jane continued, 'Dylan looks just like Paul did when he was that age. Dylan even gets up to the same type of trouble that Paul used to. And Dylan's a Cancerian like Paul was and also born on the eighth!'
By now my mind was numb. When you aren't expecting certain revelations, they can blow you away.
'Do you have other kids?' I asked.
'Yes a boy and a girl, ten and eight.'
I paused in thought.
'Scott?' Jane asked.
'Mmm?' I said.
'Do you think Paul's come back as Dylan?'
That night I rummaged through photos of the old days. Every photo of Paul, whether at the beach surfing, at a party, or standing by his beloved panel van, featured his trademark larrikin grin. I smiled noticing that in most of the photos he had a stubby of beer in his hand. Every photo held a memory. My favourite is one where Paul's hanging off a sign at Maslins Beach, south of Adelaide, the sign reading: 'Nude persons encountered beyond this point'.
There was no reason why Paul shouldn't reincarnate as Jane's son, even though Paul had been Jane's brother. Family members tended to stick together. Souls work through their karma within family units. We link in to family, friends and enemies lifetime after lifetime. Yes, I thought, staring at a photo of a smiling Paul. It all makes sense.
Then an uneasy feeling swept through me. Paul had died from a brain haemorrhage, the same cause of his death in a previous life! That could mean Dylan faced the same karma!
I recalled the night I found Paul dead in his car. Enough clues had been laid before me back then on a spiritual level to work out that he was in trouble. But I was too young, too un-evolved to make sense of it all. Now though, I was older, wiser, and had experience under my belt. If I could help it at all, nothing like what happened to Paul would ever happen to Dylan!
Three weeks passed before I could make it to Melbourne to meet Dylan for myself. Jane and I had kept in touch by phone, and I'd also spoken to her husband Tony who was understandably a little freaked out by everything, but willing to see where it was all heading.
As I walked through the Adelaide Airport Terminal, I thought about how much time I spent in airports, and on planes. I'd be back here in a few days time too. Barry had phoned from Brisbane to say that he and Lisa were coming to Adelaide for a week's holiday. Even though it had only been a few months since I'd seen him, Barry said that heaps of 'stuff had happened and he couldn't wait to talk to me about it all. It was good to see his continuing enthusiasm for life again.
I found my window seat and excused myself as I squeezed past the well-dressed man in the seat next to mine.
'Would you like a drink, sir?' the stewardess asked him, offering water or orange juice. I looked over, waiting for her to ask me the same and lo and behold, the man wasn't reading the Bulletin or Time, but Caught Between Two Worlds.
'Sir?' the stewardess said to me once she'd handed him his orange juice.
'The same, please,' I answered.
Out of all the planes and all the flights I can't believe that guy's reading my book, I thought.
When the food was served the man continued to read Caught Between Two Worlds in his left hand, holding a fork in the other. Once the meals were over the trays were collected. I handed my tray back past the man and my fork fell off and onto the man's book. That was the 'in' I needed to strike up a conversation.
'Sorry, mate,' I said as he picked up the fork from his book and handed it to the stewardess. He didn't say anything and returned to reading.
'Good book?' I asked, pushing my way through his silence.
'Don't know yet,' he answered concentrating on the page he was on.
'What's it called?'
He stopped reading, kept his thumb where he was up to and showed me the cover.
'Ummm,' I said reading the title as if taking it in. 'Sounds interesting.'
'Hmmm,' said the man, not wanting to be disturbed.
Hmmm yourself, I thought deciding not to persist in any further conversation. I settled back into my chair and peered out the window. Read and learn, pal, I thought. Read and learn!
As the pilot announced the plane was beginning its descent into Melbourne I felt a mixture of emotions. The thought that Paul had returned, albeit as a different person, made me happy, but on the other hand there was sadness too, as I thought back to when we were teenagers, and the fun we had. I really missed my friend!
The taxi pulled up outside Jane's house. A wrought iron fence ran along the front perimeter of the property and the only way in was through the gates on the driveway. I took a deep breath and opened one of the gates. As the gate clicked shut behind me, around the corner from the backyard appeared five-year-old Dylan. He ran towards me, with his blond hair bouncing wildly, and I thought I'd have to put out my arms to stop him running into me. But Dylan stopped just short of collision.
He was a mirror image of Paul. The only difference was that Dylan had rich, light blue eyes, while Paul's eyes had been green.
Dylan's wide smile made way for a curious stare. He looked up at me, giving me the once over like a child observing an insect after they'd caught it in their Bug Catcher.
Dylan raised his arms for me to pick him up, and instinctively I did. He wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. My stomach felt all tingly, like butterflies were having their yearly convention. I felt short of breath.
The loss of Paul, the grief and pain I'd felt. It all came flooding back bigger than ever!
The day he'd warned me in spirit not to ride a Brahman bull at the Bern rodeo and I had been injured, the night he visited me in spirit. It all came back.
'You've done well, Spocky,' Paul had told me from the other side that night. 'You're on the right path. I've watched your progress, you see, and ... well, it's time for me to move on now.'
'Move on to where?' I'd asked.
'It's time for me to continue my own journey. But not before I show you just how much a reality the spiritual world is,' Paul had said. 'I've brought something for you, Spocky. Don't ever doubt your truth!'
And that's when I found the car keys from Paul's panel van on my bed, his name inscribed on the back of a Holden badge. Those keys were in my jeans pocket today. I planned to give them to Dylan.
What you give out, you get back!
Out the corner of my eye, I noticed two people approaching. I assumed it was Jane and her husband, but kept my focus on Dylan. I felt like I'd stumbled into the final scene of Lassie Come Home when Lassie, believed lost forever, limps back home over thousands of miles and waits once again under a tree for her young owner outside his school like she always used to.
'Lassie, you're my Lassie come home,' a young Roddy MacDowell had said as he ran from the school building and hugged his beloved collie.
I began to cry.
Dylan gripped my neck even tighter and snuggled in closer to me.
'Spocky,' he said quietly.
