I'm an open-minded person to the extent that others often come to me for personal and metaphysical advice, though I'm not a psychic. People love to be around me. I'm often told I'm very sweet, yet I wonder what I said one day to make them look at me afraid; suddenly turning almost mean. I have anxiety disorders, but I'm not a Medium of any sort.
In elementary school, I got in trouble often for daydreaming out the window; my sight went weird when I'd see inside thought pictures, which was at first very difficult to control. I spent a lot of time in the hospital for surgery and folks said the "spacing out" was due to the drugs (or my teen-age Hippie siblings).
I'm smart, intuitive, and anxiety disorders have heightened my senses, but I'm not psychic. A distant friend of the family sat near me once at a funeral, and I'd remembered that I had a strange dream about her. Upon jokingly telling her about the dream she shocked me with her reaction. It seems that her own mother had recently died and I'd described her, though I'd never met her before, as well as the death scene! The rather conservative friend interpreted my dream as a loving message from her mother, and was nearly terrified; so was I. Alright, I'm finally ready for the truth.
A few nights ago my husband and myself were having a discussion about reincarnation. He was in the midst of a profound personal insight when I suddenly felt compelled to interrupt. I felt a very strong desire to share an odd random thought that had popped into my mind. I asked if he knew anyone named Tom, for some reason. At first he was understandably annoyed, and then his jaw dropped.
"Why?" he asked. I responded that it was almost like I heard it said inside my mind, like a memory of talking to one's self. He grew a little pale as he explained Tom was a nick-name for his friend who had died in childhood. Though I knew the story well, I'd never heard this pet name before; he explained that it was a bit too painful to have said before. He began to ask me questions, wondering why on earth I'd bring that up. So, I asked "myself" why. Soon, an entire conversation between the three of us began to flow; myself, my husband, and the dead guy in my head!
At this point even I thought I'd gone mad for sure. At several points my husband assured me that I was not only sharing details no one could know, but was even using words and inflections Tom would have chosen! I still haven't fully come to terms with this experience, hence my urge to share in writing.
Suddenly my eyes see more clearly that I didn't want to see at all before. I bet I'd have more friends if I learn when and what to say, and where the words are coming from.