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A Heartfelt Warning from the Fence

I’m a modern day Cassandra.  A “psychic” or “sensitive” or “intuitive”, whatever you want to call it.  A seer.  At 54 I’ve gotten way past the point where I care if people think I’m a nut, and I have something to say.  I don’t expect you folks to pay attention, but at least I can feel I’ve done my duty.  With all the “psychic” stuff on TV these days, maybe some of you are ready to hear this.

I’ve been intuitive since birth.  As a small child I had dreams that came to pass the next day or several days later, just as I had seen them.  I knew what people were thinking and feeling, and knew details about strangers I had no way of knowing on any practical level.  It frightened me to be like this, but eventually I embraced it and in my 20’s I became a professional psychic.  I call it my “woo” period, as in “Woo, look what I can do”.  I gave it up when I realized my ego was standing in the way of a higher spiritual path.  I still feel strongly that most psychic work locks the intuitive into an earthly struggle with ego and acclaim, and prevents substantive spiritual advancement.

After I quit “the work” I still lived with constant intuitive intrusions into my everyday life.  For example, as I drove down a quiet side road I felt a warning, “Slow down”.  The logical practical side of me rebelled. This is silly, there’s no one in front of me, this is a one-way street, there are no kids playing anywhere in sight.  But, sigh, I knew better than not to listen, so I slowed down to a crawl.  A tiny dachshund ran out of the bushes in front of my right front wheel, I stopped just short of hitting it.  Its distraught teenaged owner ran out, picked the puppy up, and sent me a grateful glance.

Another example:  I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard my son cry “Mom” in a plaintive voice.  I sat up in bed and saw him at the door.  He glided to the side of the bed, which confused me, and when I looked down he had no legs.  He held his right upper arm in pain, and when I reached out to touch him he disappeared.  I ran to his room to see him sleeping peacefully.  The next afternoon he appeared at the front door crying “Mom”, and there he was, clutching his right upper arm which had a huge gash from a fall off his bike.

This kind of thing is a very regular occurrence.  I could write a book, literally.  My husband says to keep this stuff quiet, since most people will think I’m crazy, but I just don’t care anymore.  I have something to say.

It’s hard being this way, I live on both sides of the fence.  I constantly have one foot in the supernatural world and the other on the earth plane, and let me tell you, this is no picnic.  The more I live with this and see how it works, the more I believe that someday science will catch up with it.  I think it must have something to do with the concept of time, that some of us are able to fast forward or rewind and see what was or what is to be. 

I knew about 911 the night before, but didn’t know what I was seeing.  I was up until 3 a.m. September 11, 2001 writing feverishly on my keyboard, trying to keep up with the fear inside me and the images that kept washing over me.  I wrote about clouds of white dust, a juggernaut of some kind, a massive explosion, mountains of confetti flying through the air.  I heard screaming, and felt an incredible sense of dread.  I felt helpless, I didn’t see the towers, I thought I might be seeing a nuclear explosion, but didn’t see a mushroom cloud.

After 911 I tried to ignore any intuitive flashes I had beyond who was calling me on the phone or what my husband wanted for dinner, which became a parlor game for us.  He would ask what I thought he wanted, I would know, and he would smile and shake his head.

The most frustrating thing about these images is context.  I didn’t know my son was going to fall from a bike, so I couldn’t warn him, I didn’t know a dog was coming, I just knew I needed to slow down.  I didn’t know the Twin Towers were going down, I just knew there was a huge explosion coming, with a great deal of pain and destruction.  Even if I knew, I firmly believe that these images are meant to be, and are basically engraved in stone. 

Although I realize now that knowing doesn’t change anything, I still feel the need to warn, like Cassandra did, even though no one took her seriously. 

Something big is coming folks, something that will make 911 look like a minor skirmish.  I wish I could say what it is, it feels like a change on the earth that will obliterate much of life as we know it.  I can’t sleep most nights because I can’t settle myself.  My intuitive siblings feel the same thing, and they say their intuitive/spiritual communities are similarly concerned.

What is it?  I don’t know.  I only know what I see.  I see something happening with the earth itself, something huge.  Something that will change the face of it.  Maybe an asteroid, a  horrific pandemic pathogen, a pole shift, or a huge explosion that will plunge us into darkness.  It’s big, it’s a monumental change in life as we know it, and it’s coming.   

I can’t do anything about those of you who think I’m a nut, one step away from holding a placard that says THE END IS NEAR.  All I can say is, it’s later than you think.  Hold those you love close, enjoy every moment, tie up your loose ends and pray for us all.
   

8/2008