Thousands of strangers, from the other side, and I were living the most intimate of relationships. I was always listening to their voices despite the fact that I tried tenaciously to ignore most of them. But on occasion, they would get my attention. When I would finally listen closely, some were giving me predictions for the world. Others were telling me what was going to happen around me on a much smaller scale. And even though it was on a smaller scale, their words sometimes hit home in very painful ways. For instance, I might be listening to the jumble of voices only to hear a name I knew announced. Then I would focus on that person and listen. The next part of the sentence would be that the person the ghosts were speaking of would die in a certain amount of time. Now, people might say that I was a very disturbed child because of these type thoughts. But I didn’t feel disturbed because it was such a natural part of my life. The voices were always right. Because of the way it made others feel, I learned that I shouldn’t tell them what I heard. On the rare occasions that I did tell, the look on the person’s face, to which I was conveying the information given to me by the other side, let me know that I should keep my conversations with ghosts quiet. Child friends do not want to stay around someone who predicts the time of their father’s death no matter how good the intentions of the predictor is. Though they were sometimes harsh, the voices gave me good information. After I saw that look on people’s faces, I learned, at a very young age, to keep most things they told me to myself.

It didn’t matter that the other side told me to keep information quiet either. Knowing your live friends as only you can, you think you can tell them anything. Even today, that’s not always the case. Not only my ghosts’ friends but also my father, by his negative reactions, taught me the value of being quiet. Daddy would take me to places he knew I would see ghosts. He was curious as to what I saw. His silence, after hearing my explanation gave me all the data I needed. And that was to be very quiet about the information received from ghosts. Not once did he ask if they were speaking to me. Though my father loved me and had some of the same psychic gifts I did, he was scared to death of them and taught me that I should hide them as he did.