You know I’ve returned to reading about ESP, psychic phenomena and the like (I guess I never really left such reading but in fact am reading same more vigorously since Michael’s gift of the Time-Life series). [1] There have also been some interesting T.V. shows on the subjects (psychic detectives, or more aptly put: psychics who help solve crimes). It is hard to fathom the orthodox posture in such matters - and it is clearly the aloofness, and insensitivity of society that is limiting the growth of psychic abilities.
"... it is clearly the aloofness, and insensitivity of society that is limiting the growth of psychic abilities."
I know that my father was at least an intuitive person. I never heard him profess to being psychic but he was sensitive and he opened my mind to reading about those many unexplained phenomena - “The Twilight Zone” far before Rod Serling ever became known. My mother professed to having psychic ability but didn’t discuss her “happenings” much. [2]

The psychic experience that seemed to disturb her most - that she shared with me - was the prediction of her own mother’s death. It seems that her mother had been in New York for (I think it was a goiter problem) health reasons - and was supposed to be released that day from the hospital. My mother was in Forest City playing cards at Cooley’s [3] with his daughters when she got a severe chill going down her spine. She looked at the clock and noted the time. The phone call came. Her mother had passed away very unexpectedly and quickly. Yes, just at the minute she had noted on the clock.


I too have displayed that self same ability repeatedly. It isn’t the greatest aptitude but it is there. Psychic ability is both good and bad. But the overriding thing I have noticed about it is that one must be open and not pre-occupied to receive the most information. I find I must be totally uninvolved with myself and totally receptive to my environment - and at peace with one’s soul.

"... one must be open and not pre-occupied to receive the most information.

"... totally uninvolved with myself and totally receptive to my environment - and at peace with one's soul."
Certainly those with psychic ability (moi included) learn very early that such things are not discussed with certain people. In fact I feel that I have forgotten a great deal of what I knew as a child because of the years of suppressing (What? ESP or reincarnation?). Oh yes, I forgot reincarnation is verboten also.

I do know that as a very young child I could “see” other people, other dimensions living, talking doing things, dressed in clothes of other centuries at the same time as I existed with my people, our talk, our times. The only thing that seemed curious to me was that we were able to exist in the same time and space and not disturb one another ... not infringe on one another and pursue our own courses relatively unaware of one another. It was only when I was older did I become aware that Einstein had a theory that was what I already thought to be a fact - didn’t everyone already know about the other people, the other dimension [?]. I guess not if that’s what added to Einstein’s fame.

"...all this time it was like time was standing still."
About predicting death -

I think my first experience was my grandfather Isador Lublin (my father’s father). Although he had serious heart problems when I was younger, he stopped smoking, watched his diet and was leading a normal life and everybody had really stopped worrying about his health because he was doing so well. He had gone at least two to three years without any problems and was conscientious about his appointments with his heart specialist.

At any rate, I was about eleven or twelve years of age when all of a sudden I got afraid. It was the kind of fear where your heart goes thump and you feel like you’ve lost energy in your entire body, but your nerve endings seem to tingle particularly at the tips of your fingers and ends of your toes. [4] I got an uncontrollable urge to go into my mother’s room and open the hassock there (which was something I wasn’t allowed to do). Scared, I tiptoed into her room and quietly opened the hassock - I had never done that before - and under a couple of sweaters and a blanket I found a framed picture of my grandfather. I took it out and stared at it like I had never seen it before; and, yes, I was almost mesmerized - which was a very unusual reaction. All this time it was like time was standing still. I was so enveloped in whatever was happening that when the phone rang I jumped 3 feet.

I remember being scared as I picked up the phone knowing full well that my mother was picking up the phone downstairs at the same time. I held my breath as I heard my Uncle Harry’s voice say, “Hannah, this is Harry. Dad just died.” [5]

There is a postscript to this story. About six months to a year after my grandfather passed away I was running down the stairs from my bedroom into the living room when I realized I had passed my grandfather sitting in his favorite chair. He appeared white, smoky, transparent - an apparition just like you see in the movies. But he was comfortable and relaxed. When I realized he was there I turned to talk to him in the same manner as I normally would because it didn’t occur to me he was dead or there was anything to fear - in fact I can remember being quite comfortable with it! I was happy he was there. Anyway, when I turned to talk to him - he disappeared - poof!

I had forgotten ‘til now but there was also a period of time when Heather [6] was about six months to a year old when my grandmother talked to me because my grandfather kept appearing in her dreams and talking to her. Though I don’t remember the context, he had been coming to me in the same time period. I have not seen him since.

Perhaps he is at rest since my grandmother joined him.


Unfortunately, although I have had other death experiences, the next most vivid was my mother’s. Even now as I write this I find myself holding my breath. Yes, she was sick with cancer and every night I went to bed listening to her breathing in the next room and praying that she would get through the night. But the night she did die I had come home from school during the afternoon and visited with her as always, but God help me I did something I never did: I dawdled downstairs waiting for my father to come home because I was scared to death to go upstairs. I knew there was death going on upstairs and I was immobilized. I was scared to face it alone. It was as though I expected to go upstairs and find the black leering face of death.

Thankfully, my father came home and ran upstairs and saw she was in trouble and called her best friend who had been a nurse at one time and they called an ambulance. But it was death who won. I knew death was going to win that day, January, 11th, 1961. His presence loomed too large to win the battle.

He insisted on his rightful claim.


 
The art and writings of Rebecca Bucci are Copyright 1989-1998.
This website is Copyrighted 2018 Answers Publishing /  Michael T. Bucci. All rights reserved.

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