husband died in 1998. Since then, I have had many experiences
with him visiting me, and manipulating the phone and television.
- At least
four times I remember him stroking me as I went off to sleep,
or feeling the pull on the sheets as he sat on the bed. I
felt him snuggle up behind me and talk to me telepathically.
- He would
turn the TV off and sometimes back on while none of the other
electrical items in my home were affected. Once he turned
it off and on during a Sunday morning religious broadcast
at a precise moment. A woman was giving testimony of her first
husband's heart transplant. Just as she was saying he died,
my TV turned off, then on as she was continuing to say he
received a new heart. My husband's heart (on the other side)
is defect free, of course.
- He would
ring my house phone repeatedly from midnight to 2 am. Nothing
ever showed on the call display; it came up as "caller
unknown." I went to the RCMP to have a trace put on the
calls. Within four to five days I had registered four calls,
but when the police traced them, none of them showed, just
the normal calls I had received earlier in the evening. Then
I knew for sure it was him. I begged him to stop as it was
very annoying, and eventually it did.
- My father died in 1996 and my mother was living on her own
in the Vancouver area. In 2002, I was living in northern BC
and came down for a visit, staying the first night with my
brother. The next day I tried to call her a few times on my
cell but couldn't reach her. I was becoming more and more
concerned. I phoned my boyfriend, Chris, to chat but the cell
call broke off. I hit redial and my mother's number went through,
not Chris's. This happened twice where Chris and I got cut
off and I would press redial and Mom's number was dialed instead.
It finally sank in that maybe this weirdness was my dad manipulating
my cell. I rushed to our mother's home and found her collapsed,
near death from a massive stroke. We got her to the hospital
on time only because of the strange cell phone operation.
- A favorite
memory from childhood is the scent of my father's pipe tobacco.
I know when he's around me because I can smell it...it's reassuring.
Please respond to: John