I was contacted recently by a woman named “Anne”. She had lost a very close friend a couple of years ago and wanted to know if I could contact her. Apparently the circumstances around her death were…mysterious. The official story is that this friend was accidentally killed by someone she knew. But those close to her, including Anne, suspected otherwise. They believed it may have been intentional. Murder.
I thought long and hard about how to present this story. For one thing the man who killed her, accidental or otherwise, is free. Last thing I want to do is anger him, however remote the chances of him finding this blog are. For another, the circumstances in this case are personal. I had to filter through what I was going to tell and what not, what I should change, what I should keep the same….if I should tell it at all. So, suffice it to say, the details of this story are altered from the real events, but the gist is the same.
I warned Anne that no matter what came to me, there was very little likelihood that anything could or would be done, and that I was not so sure of my skills that I felt I could “solve” this mystery for her. She understood and accepted this, and was just hoping for anything I could come up with.
So with that said, I went ahead and gave it a try. Nothing for the first couple nights. Not a thing. I started thinking maybe this spirit was out of my reach…which happens sometimes. But then, on the next night I tried, I got something. I started feeling this horrible feeling of being smothered.- no not smothered, held down, compressed, as though I could not move my arms and legs and it was hard to breathe. At the same time as I started to feel this, I also got this intense message, for lack of better word. It was not a message in the sense that someone was speaking to me, it was a feeling, an emotion conveyed without words. It gave off a very strong intention of, “Ok, you wanna know? Here you go. THIS is what it was, and it was NOT pleasant, okay?” I didn’t back off, because these feelings don’t frighten me. I know they are not my feelings, or my experiences. So I calmly asked why they were trying to scare me, and kept persisting. The next thing I got was an image, very clear, of what looked like a wall with tall buildings behind it.
That was the extent of what I was able to get. When I took this information to Anne, she then filled me in on what had happened to her friend. Apparently, the man suspected and eventually convicted of killing her (though for manslaughter, not murder), staged an accident by putting the friend into a car and running it into a wall. Of course, the coroner was able to prove easily that she had been dead long before the accident. She had been smothered. A piece of furniture in her home was missing–a type of furniture that could easily be used to squish someone to death. And was never found. The man who killed her claimed it was an accident and that he had just panicked which is why he staged the car wreck.
I suppose the shape I saw could have been the missing wooden furniture that was most likely what was used to smother her ( and which was probably what I was feeling when I felt unable to move). It’s possible that our spirit was showing it to me to show me where it wound up. But I still feel strongly that it was a wall, and so I suspect it is the wall that her killer staged the car accident at. She was very angry, and not particularly happy about me pestering her. So I didn’t attempt to reach her again.
Anne, I think, felt as though her suspicions were confirmed, and seemed content with what I was able to give her. Our spirit, I hope, is content now to be left alone. I wish that I could feel more content, but instead I feel this sense of helplessness that I am not talented enough to be able to see justice done in any way…either by proving guilt or innocence. There are mediums who work with various police agencies helping to solve crimes of one sort of another. While I am not certain I would wish to be involved on such a deep level, with the disruption it would most certainly bring to my everyday life, I envy them that their talent is so clear and they are so able to be of real help to those in need. All I can do is tell people what I see, which is generally just a fuzzy series of images, and hope that it will make some sort of sense. Mostly it does, and mostly the people I help believe in what I am doing and what I can tell them.
I wish I believed in myself as much.
And I wish our poor spirit peace always.