Ghosts, A Spirit Guide and A Past Life:Four True Experiences with the Other Side

The Silver Haired Lady

Have you ever wondered just how hard it can be to have psychic abilities? I’m talking about real abilities that you usually can’t control. I never knew that I had psychic abilities until an illness at the age of fourteen brought them out. Since then I’ve learned that there are both men and women with the “sight” on both sides of my family, and it goes back for many generations. Had I known this earlier in my life I probably wouldn’t have had such a hard time accepting my abilities and learning to live with both the psychic and paranormal aspects of having this “sight.” In all honesty, I spent a lot of years being terrified by things I didn’t understand. Now, I’ve learned to accept them and understand them better. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t get nervous in certain situations or surprised by the paranormal.
I decided to share a story of one of my early experiences because, to me, it truly is a miracle story. I wrote this down within days of the experience so the emotions are real—I was scared. Actually, I was terrified at the time. I didn’t understand what was going on, but this experience was key in helping me to accept that psychic abilities and paranormal phenomena were going to be part of my life forever. This story happened a little after the holidays but I feel it’s a miracle story nonetheless. I owe this experience to the Silver Haired Lady—this is her miracle story. I hope you enjoy it.
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South Florida is wonderful in the winter. While the rest of the country is cold or freezing the temperatures here are always warm. I had just given birth to a wonderful little boy in October and was very much at peace with my life. I was happy.
In January of 1993, I started taking classes at a private school of medical technology. After the birth of my son I had decided to pursue a career in diagnostic medical ultrasound. It was a challenging career choice and I was at the top of my class with a 100 average. The first three months were primarily anatomy and physiology with an emphasis on the heart. The class met five days a week for five hours a day. It was a lot to learn but I was thoroughly enjoying the subject matter. There were also other areas that we would explore, including phlebotomy, taking blood pressures, CPR, and last but not least, a trip to the local morgue.
Not everyone in the class was thrilled about the trip to the morgue, myself included. In fact, some people just flat out refused to go, but in order to pass the class you had to complete this requirement. They failed and I didn’t want that to happen to me. The class was divided into two groups and assigned the date that they would be visiting the morgue.
There was such a less than enthusiastic response that the professor was resigned to draw names from a hat to decide the groups. I was in the second group. I was relieved because it would give me a chance to hear the first group’s response and prepare myself for what I would be facing when it was my turn. I’m not afraid of death, but if you know how an autopsy is performed then you can understand that it can be pretty upsetting to the average stomach. There is a big difference in seeing an animal dissected and a human dissected. I didn’t really know what to expect and wasn’t looking forward to the experience. Little did I know that this was to be more than just an assignment for school; it was to be an event in spiritual enlightenment as well.
The time was drawing near for the second group of students to make their trip to the morgue. The first group’s comments made us dread it even more. They had elected to give the most gruesome details available to the second group.
The night before the event, I had a nice dinner with my family before my husband had to go back to work. I went to bed knowing that I would be up during the night with the baby. I avoided thinking about school and what we would be doing the next day. I was very tired so I laid down in bed and after a few minutes I fell into a deep sleep. When I fell asleep the dream started.
Now, there is a difference between a regular dream and a prophetic dream. During a regular dream you may or may not dream in color, the dream may be fuzzy and go from one incident to another. It may be hard to remember if you are even able to remember it at all. A prophetic dream on the other hand is very vivid, clear and, in my experience, always in color. It is usually so real that it is easily remembered and actually quite hard to forget. The feeling of a dream like this is that you are actively experiencing what is happening, not that you are dreaming it. The contents of the dream are quite often very important. It could be something that is to help you in your own life or to help someone else, or it could also be a warning. Your angels, spirit guides or other people that you may or may not know can appear in these dreams, or you may dream about an upcoming event and not recognize anyone around you.
At first there was only black. I must have been exhausted for I am the kind of person who dreams almost every night. The baby cried out for attention so I wearily got up and went to my son. He was hungry so I gave him a bottle and returned him to his crib.
Back in my own bed I snuggled up to my pillow and drifted off to sleep. My husband was working long hours because of Hurricane Andrew and wouldn’t be home until midnight. It felt like only minutes later that I found myself staring into the most crystal sky blue eyes that I had ever seen. There was an old lady looking at me. She was very worried about something and it showed on her face. Her hair was silvery white, not the bluish color that some ladies put on their hair but the whitest, shiniest hair I had ever seen. She had a round face but very high cheekbones that lifted her face into a smile even though she wasn’t smiling. Although I could only see her face and neck, she looked as if she were very petite. The most astounding feature of this lady was her eyes. They seemed to radiate youth even though her wrinkled skin portrayed her years.
She must be one hundred years old, I thought.
“That’s right. I am,” said the lady in reply to my thoughts.
“You are?”
“Yes, and I need your help. No one believes me. I am all alone and no one believes me. You have got to help me. Please say that you will help me. Please!” she said, beginning to get frantic and upset.
“Calm down and tell me what’s wrong. Why are you so upset?”
“They don’t believe me. They think I’m crazy. Just an old woman who has lost her mind. I’ve told them and told them and they don’t believe me. Now it’s too late. I can’t reach them. Please, you have to help me,” pleaded the silver haired lady.
“Who doesn’t believe you?”
“My family. It’s my family. They don’t believe me. You have to help me.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened. What is it that they don’t believe? I will try to help you if I can. Okay?”