I don't know if this is the right place to mention this. But there are times I think I have ESP. When I was stationed in Germany back in the early 1980s, I had a couple of weird experiences.My DH and I were going to some army training what was then West Germany. We came in from West Berlin on the night train. When we arrived at the Frankfurt train station, I felt as though I have been there before. And I know I haven't. And that feeling just wouldn't let go.
Another time while I was at the motorpool there in West Berlin by myself, I heard my name. This happened three days in a row. Sounded so real that I would turn around to see who was calling my name.I found out later that my mom was in the hospital. To this day, I believe that voice I heard was my mom.
My DH thinks I have ESP anyway. One day he came home from work. He said "Guess what happened today". Out of the blue, I said, "You are being promoted". His chin about hit the floor. LOL. There have been other experiences too.
Trina

I have a question:

Do you believe that the quilts that you are working on "talk" to you? Not with audible words but in subtle ways. For example: there is a quilt I am working on right now that seemed to be protesting the colors I have picked for it. As I was working on cutting fabric for the block, I accidentally cut my finger with the rotary cutter. After my finger healed, I made a mistake in how I put the block together. So I had to start over with another color because I didn't have enough of the color I started with. The quilt seems happy now with the colors.So far, no mistakes or accidents. Knock on wood.
Trina

Trina, I've had some very similar experiences. July 1, 1970 - I was ill, low grade fever, slept all the time, no clue what was wrong. We got company - some people I really didn't care much about - so I told Dad & Mom, "I'm going downstairs to the family room and take a nap until they leave." Had just laid down and was trying to get to sleep when I heard Dad call me. I went to the door, expecting to see him at the top of the stairs. But there was no one there!

The company finally left and Mom and Dad came downstairs too as it was a very hot day and the basement was always cool. We were just sitting there talking when the phone rang. Mom ran up and got it. It was my Uncle Ed (Mom's baby brother) calling to tell us that Grandpa DeBolt had passed away in Florida. Then I told Dad and Mom about the voice I heard calling me. My Dad's voice and Grandpa DeBolt's voices sounded almost identical - both deep voices. Rather odd since Grandpa DeBolt was Mom's dad! So then I knew that Grandpa came to see me almost immediately after he died.

He also visited Mom that night - she and Dad were in bed, it was a very calm still night, when suddenly the bedroom curtains blew out like a strong breeze was blowing! The next morning Mom was at the barn doing the milking when a shadow passed over the back wall of the barn. Mom got up from her milk stool, thinking my brother or I had walked past the door - but there was no one there!

I've had several visits from Grandpa DeBolt since then and some times he talks to me. My Grandpa Schieferstein also visited me once years ago. I was doing somethings my Dad didn't approve of - nothing bad, just not something Dad wanted me to do. Briefly, my best friend as that time was a Hispanic boy that I loved dearly. Dad was scandalized! Well, one night I was very upset, couldn't sleep, and Grandpa Schieferstein came to me. He told me, "Just go ahead and pick your own friends." I followed his advice and of course got into even more hot water with Dad!!!

Nola

Somehow this thread surprises me. Not the types of experiences mentioned here ... just that it they are being openly talked about ...

I have had a lot of “odd” things happen over the years ... and for a time my DH and I rented a house where we were convinced there was a ghost.

First, I am going to tell you about the experience I had when my Dad died. Although he was only 64, he had been ill for some months and his death was not unexpected. Just about the time we became aware of how ill he was, I had just become pregnant with our oldest son. My Dad loved being a Grandpa and played peek-a-boo and hide and seek and such as long as she wanted to play with my niece. I have always been sad that my children did not have a chance to know him when they were young, particularly since my DH’s Dad is very stand-offish and has never shown much interest in any of his grandchildren, although he is now my children’s only living grandparent.

About my Dad ... I had not wanted to tell people I was pregnant yet, because I had already been through two misscarriages, including one in the second trimester. When I learned Dad was ill, though, I told him because I think I was hoping if he knew there was a new baby on the way, it might rally him. This was not to be, though. The night he died I woke up in the middle of the night to the front door slamming downstairs and I roused my husband, who can sleep though anything. When my husband checked nothing was amiss except the photo album with our wedding pictures was on the floor, although it had been wedged onto a bookcase and none of the other books were displaced. He looked it over and put it back on the shelf and came back to bed and said the cat must have knocked it down. The cat had been sitting on the end of the bed through all this (including when I woke up) with her fur in a ruff and staring at the bedroom door. I said, “No, it was not the cat. It was my Dad.” He just looked at me.

In the morning my Mother called me hysterical and said she could not wake up my Dad. I told her to call the ambulance but, of course, we both knew he was gone. I also knew he had come to say goodbye to me.

At the time my DH and I were living in NH and my parents’ home is in MA. A few days later after we had returned home from the funeral I took down the photo album and looked at it. It is one of those albums where each photo is slipped into its own plastic sleeve. On the page of me and my Dad, a large dark red spot had appeared at the top of the image. It is the only photo in the album that was affected. I have never had it tested, but it is clearly a bloodstain, a single spot of blood in the shape and appearance of a fingerprint.

My Dad visited one other time. One morning after both of my sons had been born, I found a strange, new, bright colored plastic ball in the living room one morning. It had not been there when I went to bed or in the middle of night when my oldest woke me up for his usual 2:30am cuddle. My oldest was two and a half; my second was still a newborn. My DH had no idea where it had come from. I asked my oldest son about the ball and he said “A man gave it to him.” I asked him when. He said, “Last night.”

I was sure it must belong to one of the kids in the little informal play group of new moms and their children that we joined in the neighborhood each morning and that my son had brought it home somehow without my having seen it. I told my son we needed to return the ball to whomever it belonged to. We brought it around and showed it to all the mothers and everyone said it did not belong to any of their children. We brought it home.

My son, who was a very verbal child and could speak clearly in two word sentences before he was a year old, told me more or less, that he had told me the ball was his and insisted that “the man” had given it to him. I asked him to tell me what the man looked like, but he could not really tell me. I took the photo album down and asked him if he could find the man’s picture. He looked through the whole album and came back to the one with my Dad and said that it looked like this man, only he had red hair. In the photo my Dad was balding and gray haired, but when he a young man, his nickname was “Red” because of his Irish red hair.

Trina-

That feeling of having been there before is not ESP, it is deja vu if you feel you have been there before in a previous life, or pre-cognition if you see the event before you experience it. The first incident I can remember of pre-cognition I was in the fourth grade and in Girl Scouts. We were going to spend a weekend sleep-over at Greenfield Village.

Someone in scheduling had made a mistake and overbooked so part of the troops ate breakfast in the employee dining room. Obviously, I had never been in the room before. I stood up from the table tray in hand, looking for where I was to deposit my dirty dishes. As I surveyed the room, and watched other Scouts move across the floor, I suddenly realized I had seen this exact scene at some point before. I was rather frightened at the time, but now when it happens in a conversation it doesn't bother me. I do sometimes stop and ask if we've already had this conversation- my mother and my BFF know to ask, "Are you at it again?"

Once, when I was in high school, I heard the phone ring early in the morning while I was getting dressed. I hurried downstairs to see who had called and found my mother quite visibly shaken. One of her sisters had called to say their late mother's younger brother had died. It unnerved me to see her take it so hard. This was an old man, in his late nineties, and an uncle she wasn't particulary close to. I think there were only two other of my grandmother's siblings still living at that point and they were very old and frail too. I asked my mother what was wrong, and before anyone else got to the table she told what had happened during the night.

She woke and sat up in bed in the middle of the night. The opposite end of the bedroom got very bright and the wall and the furniture disappeared. She could see the house she was born in, and that my grandparents lived in for over sixty years, except that it had a picket fence in front of it. There was no picket fence during my mother's lifetime, but before she was born, at one time there had been a white picket fence. She had seen pictures of the way the house looked when my grandparents first married, nearly 20 before.

There was a man walking down the street towards the house; and although she could not see his face, there seemed something familiar about his gait. Suddenly, the front door flew open and out onto the porch burst my grandmother looking as she did as a young married woman. Grandpa was with her as were her siblings and their spouses who had crossed. All remained on the porch except Grandma, who rushed across the porch, down the steps, and down the walk to the gate. "Fordie! Fordie!" she called as she pushed open the gate, "Oh, Ford (my great-uncle's name), we've been waiting for you. Look nearly everyone's here."

Uncle Ford was a rather tragic character. He had a couple of failed businesses, had a problem with alcohol, had been abandoned by his wife and estanged from his children as a result. But as far as I know he was always a good and gentle soul and my grandmother was his champion and protector. She always encouraged him and never permitted anyone to speak ill of him in her presence.

Grandma entwined her arm in his and as they walked up the steps together, the scene and the light faded and mother said her furniture became visable once more. My mother once told me that Grandma appreciated the way she would sit and listen to her troubles; something my aunts and uncle did not do, being too wrapped up in their own lives. I am sure that is why Grandma appeared to her and none of the others.

Mercy, Meg! That story really gave me goosebumps! Back in the late 1950's my Dad nearly died during surgery. He found himself floating over his hospital bed, watching the doctors and nurses working on him. Then he was transported to a spot where he could see across what he described as a void - a black "nothingness" - across this void was the most beautiful scenery he'd ever seen. Then his parents came walking up. He said they looked much like they'd looked when he was a little kid - Grandma in her long (not quite floor length) dress & apron, and Grandpa in his bib overalls. They talked to Dad, told him he was doing wrong by my brother, and that whatever became of him would be Dad's fault. I think my brother was suicidal. (Dad was trying to force him to be and do things he didn't want or wasn't capable of.) Dad said he wanted so bad to cross that void and join my Grandparents, but they told him he'd have to go back, that it wasn't his time yet and he had to straighten out things with my brother.

Next thing Dad knew, he was back in his hospital bed. This was about 1958 or '59 - Dad lived until 1992, but he was never very happy again - it's like he knew there was a better place waiting for him and he didn't want to be here in this world anymore. To some extent, things did get better with my brother - but the one lesson Dad never learned was that he couldn't control us kids' lives - although he sure tried.

A few years after that, Dad was sitting at the dining room table, looking out the back window that faces the barn and orchard area. The garage is off to the right of the window. He said my Grandpa walked out of the garage and headed over to the chicken house and feed shed. He said he didn't really walk - more like he was gliding along on air.

Mom saw Dad after he died - she was napping on the sofa, woke up and saw Dad and 2 other people walk by - Dad stood in the corner of the room and looked at her for a few seconds, then disappeared. About a week before Mom died she told us she'd heard wings outside her bedroom window - like angel wings. Now Mom was almost completely deaf for several months before she died - but I don't doubt one bit that angels were hovering, just waiting to take her home.

And I've seen lots of "odd things" in the last few years. One day when I still had my rug loom, I was weaving and stopped for a second to rest my arm. I turned and looked out my living room window and there was a man standing in the yard - he was dressed in early 1900's style clothes. I thought at first it was my great-granddad, but several years later I saw a picture of the man who built the house where I live. It was him. His name was Sam and he was the great-grandfather of my best childhood friend.

Another time I was riding my bike past the little old village cemetery. Glanced toward the back of the cemetery and there stood a Civil War soldier, dressed in his uniform - no clue who he was because there are quite a number of veterans buried there.

This little village where I live is old - the oldest village in Adams Co., established in 1836. Many of the early inhabitants were my relatives - my great-great grandparents came here about 1848 or '49. Many evenings in the summer, especially a dark hazy evening, I can feel the spirits of those early residents. I can't see them, but they are so close I feel like I could reach out and touch them. Someday I'll have a camera ready and snap a few pictures, just to see what shows up on them!

Nola

P.S. Concerning that feeling of deja vu - I've had that a few times too. At my paternal grandmother's funeral, my brother and I walked in together down the aisle of the church towards the casket (this was in 1968). After the funeral my brother started to tell me something at the same time I started to tell him the same thing - that we'd done that before - either in a previous life, or something. Sort of weird that we both had deja vu at the same time since we're really not very much alike at all.

Pat, I have a friend whose 5 year old daughter has regular 'chats' with her Grandfather who likes to visit and tickle her feet. My friend was amazed when she heard, and didn't really believed her, thinking it was an unlikely excuse for her daughter not staying in bed at night. When MF was having housing issues she jokingly asked her daughter to get 'Granddad' to find them a new home. The family got together a wish list for their 'dream home'; in the hills, with a pool, views of the city, big bedrooms etc etc, all at a remarkably low cost and with a fantastic positive energy! You guessed it, 'Granddad' came up trumps and they are now living in the 'dream home'. Little Georgia loves telling everyone that 'Granddad got the house for her.' I love the idea that our Grandparents are there for us for all our lives.

Perhaps the wonder and curiosity of a child allows them to tap into that psychic connection. Or like you Nola, who has a sense of place and people that gives a connectedness that most of us lack. You are very lucky.

Meg your story about your Uncle Ford is heart wrenching. It made me think about my Uncle Keith who is now 95 and is very frail. His wife, Mary died two years ago and since then he has lost two brother-in-laws. I sat with Uncle Keith at the wake after one of their funerals and shared a chat. Uncle Keith was very melancholy and said "They've forgotten about me. They've all gone and left me here, and forgotten about me." It broke my heart to hear, because Uncle Keith is much loved by all of us. He is still well and healthy and we have joked that he has to live to 100 so he can get a letter from the Queen. But that is our wish more than his.
Uncle Keith is the oldest of his siblings and only he and his youngest brother Les, who is now in his 80s, are still living. Uncle Les is very unwell and is unlikely ever to return home from hospital. When we first heard the news of Uncle Les's illness all we could think of was, 'Please let Uncle Keith die first.'
Whoever goes first I think I'll keep that image of yours in my mind Meg, of the loving family welcoming their sons home. Its very poignant and
beautiful.

I haven't had any psychic experiences like we've spoken of. I have enjoyed a different kind though. When Uncle Keith's wife Mary died we all returned to our home town for the funeral. We are a large family and we had traveled from far and wide to honour a wonderful woman. Aunty Mary was much loved by family and friends and the Church was overflowing with many having to stand outside during the service. After the service finished we all milled around outside in the grounds, chatting and catching up with people we hadn't seen in years. While we were there a swarm of lady birds flew in and landed on everyone. Little delicate lady birds by the thousands sitting on shoulders, on backs and in hair. It was wondrous. I've never seen anything like it, I've only ever seen the occasional ladybird and they are always cherished and put onto a plant carefully to keep them safe. Aunty Mary was a delicate ladylike woman and it was if she was saying goodbye to everyone personally. Now whenever I see a ladybird I think of her and smile.

Melita

I know I added before in this post but my DH is on a road trip and I just got a funny feeling come over me. It was the same one I got when he wrecked his 18 wheeler. I called my son and asked if he felt any thing because he was the one that came to me and said we need to say a prayer for dad. We did and he was ok just a few bumps and brusies. He had the wreck the same time we said the prayer at 9:00 pm 25 years ago and it was just like it happend yesterday. My DH is fine and made it to my cousins house safe. I dont like being home alone but I am a big girl and I have my dogs here. Laura

Hi, I agree, it's interesting that we are talking openly about this, because, as someone said...it's a bit strange.

I've had de-javue several times and the most significant pre-cognitiion was concerning my father in law back in 1992. We had gone to the funeral home for the viewing (not something I enjoy)of my husbands great uncle. I got to the doors of the building first and opened the doors for my husband and youngest daughter. They passed me, but I was frozen in place. I didn't see the hallway of the funeral home. I saw a viewing room with a casket and my FIL in it. I just froze, looked around the room, saw friends and family. Looked at FIL and knew it was true. Finally I heard my husband call my name and they were quite a way up the corridor. When we went into the viewing room where his uncle was I immediatly went to my father in law and told him he'd lost too much weight, and needed to go to the doctor ASAP. He agreed and went a few days later. After surgery for gall bladder problems he still had trouble (old country doctor...) Finally he went back into hospital and was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He was gone within three months. The viewing was exactly as I had pictured, from the casket, to the flowers to the colour tie he was wearing. Even now I get shakey thinking about it.

Ghosts...we had one in the house where we lived after my grandson was born. It was either my FIL or the old lady who used to live there. It was an old house and the upstairs was turned into a Granny flat. My daughters and the baby lived up there. In the morning my daughter would come down stairs to use the bathroom (the upstairs was was being re-done) when she went back up...the space heater would be turned towards the baby's crib instead of straight between them both. Sometimes on really cold days, the blankets would have been tucked around him!

My youngest daughter and would tell me things that were going to happen. When she was three she came and got in bed with me one night and asked my Ol' Paw-Paw was in the hospital? I told her he wasn't he was home at Maw-Maw's house. Five minutes later, my brother in law came over to tell us his grandfather had a stroke and was in the hospital!

Yes, the world is a lot more interesting then we give it credit for!

Kim

Meg and Nola, reading your posts reminded me of a dream I had. My youngest daughter's boy-friend Justin had died in a tragic automobile accident. He was only 19 and a very sweet, kind young man. I first met him when he was five, being the nurse giving him his pre-kindergarten physical (I had to wrestle him to the table so he could get shots!)
About a month or maybe two after he died I had a dream, I was in a garden. It was the most beautiful place I've ever been/seen. There were a group of children playing on a playground, swings, slides, etc. They were all wearing blue jeans, white sneakers and white t-shirts. Justin was there, pushing them on the swings, picking them up, dusting them off when they fell, etc. When he saw me, he ran up, giving me a bear hug. I asked him what he was doing there. He told me, sometimes the little kids missed their moms and he did too (he said I was one of his Moms) and he understood. So he played with them and kept them busy and occupied, till they could understand. It was exactly the kind of thing Justin would do too. Then he asked me to tell his Mom he loved her, and he was ok. He hugged me again and went back to the children.

I'm sobbing as I write this. Eight and a half years, and it's as if it was yesterday when we lost him and Gabe. I ran into his mother while I was in the states last year. We just smiled, with tears in our eyes and couldn't talk. Well, I'm rambling. But yes, they do send us messages, they do still love and miss us and wait for us.
KimUK