I See Dead People, and Some Really Cute Stuff on Home Shopping Channels

The nights of an insomniac and a mom of an infant are basically the same. Thanks to 24 hour news channels, I am SUPER up on current events. I feel like I have personal friendship with Isaac Mizrahi and I love his ENTIRE collection on QVC. We are totally besties. Also, caffeine. Lots of it. Cannot get enough. *twitch*

Middle of the night is a great time to binge watch Game of Thrones. 

Except, during my long nights I occasionally “see” people, dead people who are waiting around for me to either:

A. Get to their loved one’s email reading

Or

B. Hanging out in preparation for their loved ones in person appointment the next day.

This week, everything was the usual in my middle of the night routine, except that I don’t have a squeaky rocking chair, and I kept on hearing a squeaky rocking chair. Feeding after feeding the squeaking got louder and louder, yet I could not find where it was coming from. As I stumbled around the darkness of my kitchen, the noise level didn’t change wherever I went.  While my ear was to the ice maker in the fridge, as I attempted to rule out appliance failure, I felt a comforting presence with me and I smelled a cinnamon fragrance of a pipe.

“Okay,” I said quietly, “Send me your people and I will read them.” The squeaking stops.

Next day, I get a request for an email reading from a woman who just lost her beloved grandfather. She sends me his pictures. As soon as I open them his presence hits me like a ton of bricks. I hear the squeaking again.

In her email reading, I ask if grandpa had a squeaky rocking chair. I share that I have been hearing this for about 12 hours before her request of a reading. “Yes,” she replies “An old ugly squeaking rocking chair that was his favorite.” She continues by saying she grew up visiting the house and the comforting smells of grandpa’s pipe were part of her best memories. 

I never hear the squeaking again. 

When Spirit Interrupts House Cleaning...

Two cats and two kids equal the vilest accumulation of dust, hair and general miscellaneous grossness on a carpet. One day, motivated by the sheer nastiness of it all, I put myself “in the zone” and attacked the bedroom carpet with major zeal.

I heard the phone ring, but I just knew if I turned the vacuum off, there it would stay, plugged in and standing in the middle of my bedroom for all of eternity. So I kept at it and let voicemail take it.

All a sudden, the electricity turns off.

                                                                  Not creepy at all.... 

“Ugh” I sigh. I walk into the hallway. Predictably, as I switch the lights on and off in every other room, they work just fine. I immediately sense a very heavy presence.  “Hello?” I say out loud. A “son” energy comes in strong, and I smell coffee.

“Okay, I hear you!” I say into the darkness of my room as I pick up the voice mail. It was a woman, a little older sounding, calling from Brooklyn to schedule a phone reading. I quick call her back and let her know that her son is indeed here and can’t wait to talk to her. This wasn’t even surprising to her, and she tells me how he was always a persistent person in life. We laugh a little about it, and I tell her how sweet it is that he didn’t want his mother to wait for this conversation any longer. We make the reading for the very next day. I know her son will be hanging out with me until then.

As I hang up the phone I hear the vacuum roar to life.