Two good friends say hello

Two of my best friends in my teens were Mark and Nicky.  They both died in their early twenty's.  Each of them found a way to say hello to me from the afterlife.  I was about 21 when I attended Mark's funeral.  I tried to console Mark's parents, but I did not have my abilities as finely tuned as I do now.  It was a very depressing affair.  I think it was his mother who told me that the family had been watching a program on TV and it got to a part where there was a funeral and everyone was crying and carrying on.  Mark suddenly got up and said:  "If I die tomorrow, I don't want everyone crying and being miserable.  I want them all to go down the pub and have a good piss up (have a few beers) and a good time!"  Then he left the house.  The next day he was killed in an accident by a train at his work. 

A couple of years went by, when one day, Mark came in to say hello to me through a medium that I had gotten to know.  The medium described a young man who said that he was a friend of mine and that he was well dressed, wearing a suit.  The medium said some other things as well, but I knew immediately by that description that it was Mark.  When Mark was on earth he was into the whole soul music scene.  He was probably one of the few white guys in the black music clubs in the East End of London.  He would spend all his money on expensive suits and fancy accessories, so he could "pick up the chicks!" as he would say.  The medium was very good.  I had told him nothing.  Mark's personality came through loud and clear. I don't remember much now of what was said, except the last few things, which I will never forgot.  Mark told the medium to tell me, that I knew more about the other side than he does and he lives there!

   

Some five years later I had a dream that I was on a train and I was with my friend Nicolas or Nicky, as he was known.  I remember we seemed to be traveling along near what looked like an ocean.  Again, I don't remember what was said, but I did remember that he just opened the door of the train and jumped out.   Several months later, while I was at work in a shoe store in Kensington, London, not far from where Nicky used to live,  a lady walked in, came up to me, smiled and said,  "Hello Mike." 

I didn't recognize her and apologized. 

"I'm Nicky's mum," she said.

I remembered her then.  I said hello and asked how Nicky was.

She paused for a moment and said, "Nicky committed suicide.  He jumped off a train."

When I look back on that moment, I think I must have been in a state of shock.  I don't know why I didn't ask her for more information.  I could have asked just to meet her again or a phone number, that kind of thing.   His mother did tell me that he was incredibly frustrated at not being able to do real Archaeology, because of the politics involved.  That's why he ended his life.  Nicky and I used to spend weekends at his parents' country home, near Salisbury Plain.  Nicky was into Archaeology and we would go digging for artifacts.   I told his mother about the dream, and that I thought it was a visit from Nicky.  I hope that it gave her some solace.