Friday, November 23, 2012

A Visit from a 911 Fireman

A Visit from a 911 Fireman

The trip to New York this week was my first visit.  While there I decided to pass on a message from a fireman who had come to me in a dream.  The fireman told me his name, the ladder he was with and that he was married, I also thought they had two kids.
On the way to the fire house, I was on the subway train sitting next to a woman who was with her mother and uncle.  We were talking and I asked her if her father had passed away.
“Yes he had.” she said.
“Did he die of a heart attack?”  I asked.
“Yes he did.”  She replied.
Then I heard the name Frank in my mind. I said nothing even though they were Italian, because I knew that it was not her father’s name.
So we eventually got to the fire house.  There were three firemen sitting around and I asked them if any of them had known the fireman I was interested in.  The one I was talking with didn’t know him personally.
Then the fireman says.  “There is one guy here that knew him, Frank.”
So he goes off and fetches Frank.  I asked frank over away from the others and told him my story about how the fireman had visited me after 911. Frank listened and then told me that there were two guys by the name I said, from their fire house that died in 911. He took Marti and me upstairs and showed me their pictures.  Then he told me that only one of them was married and had kids. I had only found a memorial to one guy so I had assumed it must be him. Then Frank told me that the married guys wife gave birth to son two days after 911 and I realized the fireman must have been trying to tell me about his son born two days later, not that he had two kids.
Frank was very open to all that I told him and promised that he would convey to the wife what I had said.  Frank then told me one of his experiences several months after 911 when his crew was caught in an explosion in a building hurling everyone about.  He heard the voice of his fire captain who had died in 911 telling him to dig out his crewmate from under the debris and an invisible hand on his back pushing him over to the spot where he was buried.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Waylon Jennings & his Manager

I recently had a meeting with Waylon Jennings and his manager.  The Manager was the main person I spoke with in our session for our client who was someone very close to him.
When he first connected with me and I saw him I asked him what he did while he was on earth he told me he was into music and that he was a manager. And told me that he managed a rock band but also a country western singer.  When I asked him the name of the singer he showed me an album cover called Old Dogs which happened to be one of the only country & western records my wife and I own.  I felt the singer connecting with me and I knew which one he was, from the picture on the cover, but I couldn't remember his name.

Marti pondered for a few moments then said.  "It's Waylon Jennings isn't it"?

I knew that she was correct and was pleased she got the name.

The client confirmed that it was and that the manager had designed the cover for that album.
Waylon said a few things to the Client but was kind of quite.  I also felt George Harrison for a moment and it turned out that the client had known George pretty good as well.

I decided some days after the contact to look up some history about Waylon.  I was surprised to see that he had played with buddy holly.  I have always been a big fan of Buddy Holly since I was little but was unaware of his connection with Buddy.  So as I contemplated on Waylon and his struggles, my thoughts were that a lot of his problems had to do with the plane crash in which Buddy Holly was killed.  I browsed the internet I found this site.

American Civil War

Civil war Great Great Uncle

A few weeks ago when engaged in a large group session, a man on the other side told me he had been blown up in a war.  I also felt his leg had been badly injured in a previous engagement.  He told me that the person he was trying to reach was sitting in the back row of the audience.  He conveyed some more information and eventually a lady spoke up, asking if he could have been in the American civil war.  I queried the man and he affirmed that he was.  He then told the lady that he was a sergeant in the union army and that he had played the bugle. 
I wondered in my mind where and when he had died, he responded to my thoughts, telling her that he had been killed just before the war ended, in one of the last big engagements of the war, after having made it through most of the war.  He said he was blown up whilst running across the battle field.
The lady affirmed that everything he had said was correct and afterward showed me a Diamond ring she was wearing. 
The diamond was taken from the tiepin of her great great grandfather who was the brother of the man speaking to her.  She informed me that she had been a skeptic before she sat down but wasn't any more.

A foot in the door.

I find it quite hard to bring to a close spirit communication, as I am fully aware of the needs of our audience.  I try too keep to a certain length of time and usually our spirit friends keep to that.  There are however exceptions and sometimes there is just one more spirit that wants to speak before we end.  This letter from Deborah is one instance.

  First of all I need to let you know that, about 3 days after my son died my daughter and I where shown in a dream that a red 4 door car was chasing my son down Old Hwy.80 near Buckman Spring Road.  I had called her the morning after I woke up and she had told me she had the same dream, almost identical to mine.  We wondered about it and we both agreed that Andrew my son was trying to let us know what happened. >>>>>>>>>>My Daughter and I had always wanted to see if we could hear from Andrew.  A friend had told me of Michael Perry who was a Medium.  He and his wife where going to be in El Cajon.  We jump at the chance to talk to my son. >>>> When we arrived, we were very hopeful and excited that we might hear from our beloved Andrew.  There were about 40 people there, but our hopes were very high.   I went looking at the jewelry and found earrings that were Sea horses.  My Andrew would carve Sea horses out of sand stone and chain saw.  To this day I am not sure why.  But I did buy these earrings. >>>>>>>>> Michael started.  There was a young lady that had just lost her son within 2 weeks of our readings.  He did die an almost same way my son died.  Things kept on coming up and we were sure Andrew was trying to come through.  Marti had been drawing and Michael would ask if anyone knew this person?  
Time went on and on.    Over two hours had past and nothing.  Michael was getting very tired.  
Then he said, “If I don't connect for these people they will go home very sad."  
He walked over to my daughter and me and said, "Your son has past?"  
I nodded yes.
He started pulling on his ears and asked, “did he wear earrings?"  I said no.
He said, "Then why am I bothered with my ears?"
He went on.  He was in a car wreck.  A man named Joe helped him out of the truck.  He was alone in the truck right?  
I nodded, yes.  
Do you know a man named Joe?  
Then Michael said “He was being chased by a RED CAR!”  
My daughter and I about fell on the floor!! 
You walked on the beach last week?  
I said, yes.  
Your son was with you.  He resting place isn't far from where you live?  
I said, yes.  
You also have a monument near you house?  
And I said, yes.  My daughter looked at me and said NO.  I said yes the carvings of the Sea hoses out front.  
Michael said "you mean like the ones in your ears!"  
We laughed.  Andrew had told Michael that if we returned he would be there again for us.  What a night, one we will never forget!  I had to hug the lady that had just lost her son.  When we left there, we had decided to have a one on one with Michael and Marti.  Michael is so on the spot!  I love him so for making me and my son’s sister so happy that night.  We did return.  My oldest Daughter Sunny, Chelsie my youngest daughter that came with me this time reserved a date and a night with the remarkable duo.>>>>>>  Marti and Michael next story will be this coming week.  I don't have a computer at home.  So I have to wait until I get to my daughters to write.  I will go home and do my best to get that cassette out and rewind it to listen again.  Michael said John Wayne had been there all day long. 

Thank you.   Deborah

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Marley's Story

An Amazing Reading with Michael and Marti Parry

By Marley Gibson

I was attending GhoStock 6 in Savannah, Georgia, in May of 2008, mainly to do research on my upcoming young adult teen fiction series, GHOST HUNTRESS, that comes out in May 2009 from Houghton Mifflin’s Graphia line.  I've been to several conferences and many ghost investigations, but I’d never had a “reading” of any kind done.  This would be great experience for my book.

I had seen Michael and Marti Parry first-hand when they had a session at the Darkness Radio event at The Stanley Hotel in March of this year and had been blown away by what the did.  You see, Michael jumps in quickly, seeing relatives, friends, and associates of audience members.  He identifies them not with the vague “I see a ‘J’ name in this section of the room.”  No, he says things like, “Third row on the right, there’s an older man in a police uniform and he’s smoking a cigar.”  Lo and behold, a woman raises her hand and says, “That’s my father.”  All the while Michael is making contact with the spirits, Marti has her own focus.  She’s seeing images of the deceased, and with her amazing artistic talent, she’s able to draw them in exquisite detail.  Not only that, but every one of her drawings are claimed by audience members as relatives or acquaintances who have passed.

Imagine my curiosity at having the opportunity to sit with them one-on-one (or rather two-on-one) and see what kind of reading they could get for me.  Now, to start with, I didn't think I had lost that many people in my four grandparents, some pets, a cousin here or there, so I wasn't sure we’d be able to fill up the entire half hour.

After Marti convinced the hotel construction workers to please, please, please take a break from their demolition of the floor above us, the reading started.  Michael began by sliding the box of tissues across the table at me.  He had no idea why he’d done that and said he hadn't done it before during his other readings.  I’m not exactly a boo-hoo’er (as Michael called it), so I waited to see what he’d say.

Of course, when you come into anything like this, you hope to connect with those people you’ve lost who were especially close to you...but you never know who’ll show up to wave a cosmic “hello.”

Michael started off with, “there’s a cat here” and immediately my tears began.  I’d been hoping that my kitty might step forward.  And she did.  Michael said she walked across the table like she owned the place and flopped down in front of me.  He saw a multi-colored cat, one who liked her stomach rubbed, but was a nipper when you did it.  He pegged that we used to feed her chopped tuna from the can and cut up shrimp tails.  Yep.  That was my Puddy Tat.  She’s been gone for eleven years now, but a day doesn't go by that we don’t think of her.

After I dabbed my eyes from the emotional surge I’d felt, I sat back and listened and took notes.  Michael had an A.G. name that was coming through.  We couldn't understand who this was.  Certainly not anyone I could put my finger on...until he realized it wasn't a name that started with AG, but two names, perhaps?  Well, great-grandmother:  Ada Glovenia.  That was it.  She brought through with her, my maternal grandmother, a proper, red-headed woman, and my paternal grandmother, a woman who didn't wait to be asked to be seated, but made herself at home.  In fact, Michael even discerned who I called “Grandmother” and who I called “Grandma.”  Very cool.

Next were a slew of random cousins that I’d totally forgotten about who were all connected to Ada Glovenia.  First was a mention of my cousin Ralph, who I grew up around.  He’d always bring candy to me at choir practice.  His granddaughter, Claudine, came through, as well.  Michael said he felt someone connected to Ralph who had died in an accident by their own hand.  That was quite accurate.  My cousin had been expelled from school for cheating, went home and called the principal at her school, threatening to kill herself.  When he came over to her house, she was poised with a shot gun to take a pop at him, but the bullet ricocheted off the top of the door, and the ceiling and shot her in the back of the head, killing her instantly.  A very tragic ending for a fourteen-year-old.

Next, was a reference to Ralph’s sister, Sara, who is still on earth.  Only, Michael spelled her name “Sahra,” which is how, I was told, it was spelled on her birth certificate, although she never spelled it that way.  Michael told me about automatic writing and how sometimes he’d switch hands and write with totally different styles from one word to the next.

He knew that my mother and father were both still alive and that my father’s side of the family was of Germanic decent.

Still, Michael was unsure as to who was telling him all of this – who was this narrator who was bringing all of these people through to me?  He had “a real fun energy with this lot” and was enjoying himself.  So much that he ran over my agreed-upon half hour time slot.

He was picking up something about breast cancer and wondered if anyone in the family died from it.  No, not that I knew of.  Well...Michael was picking up something about breast cancer and another Sarah name in the family.  I told him that I had an Aunt Sarah who was married to my Uncle David.  He was a radiologist who specialized in breast cancer and had diagnosed literally hundreds of cases.  And, he is Ada Glovenia’s grandson.

Michael finally figured out who was speaking to him about all of these people.  An older man who said to reference “Bob.”  My dad has a brother named Bob and immediately, Michael said, “It’s your Grandpa.”

Again, by distinguishing the speaker as “Grandpa,” I knew Michael was right because I had a Grandpa and a Granddaddy.  This was clearly Grandpa because he referenced the children that he and Grandma had lost before my dad was born.  Three still-born, full-term babies.  This was definitely my Grandpa.

He showed Michael that he’d had a stroke on the right side of his face and upper body.  My Grandpa had suffered from many mini strokes in his later years.  However, Michael assured me that he wasn't in pain now or experiencing anything like that.  He was young again and perfectly healthy.  Oh, and he told Michael that he thought I was delightful.  Awww...
Then, Michael said that Grandpa had a dog with him.  He thought it was a German Shepard, but most importantly, it was a police dog.  I explained that my father had a German Shepard when he was a little boy, but that he had a police dog before I left for college.  In fact, Sheba, the dog, and Grandpa were great friends.  Michael said Grandpa wanted to let us know that he had Sheba with him and in fact, he may have the German Shepard, Bama, as well.

There was more family banter about what a tease and story teller Grandpa was and he referenced my dad’s “cheffing” abilities as nothing more than cooking up spaghetti.  Michael also saw Grandpa with a big cigar, which mirrors a picture of him that I have at home of him sitting back in a chair with a big stogie as while he was working on one of the Broadway shows he was master carpenter of during his days in New York.

Michael saw Grandpa at a place near the ocean.  He and Grandma did, indeed, move to St. Petersburg, Florida in their later years.  That’s where Grandma died.  I was able to ask the question if she suffered and could we have saved her because Grandpa was so far away from her in the house when she had her heart attack.  Also, his hearing was really bad and he refused to wear a hearing aid.  Grandma said, “That idiot didn't hear me.”  Michael correctly pinpointed that she had her attack in the bathroom and had crawled to help before succumbing.  Grandma told Michael that she and Grandpa were fine now.  “Oh well...everything’s good.”

In addition to all of this, Michael knew that I had bought a new SUV...a black one.  Yes, yes, and yes.  He asked me what happened to the Chevy?  That’s what we traded in for the new car.  He said, “It had a black roof?”  Yes...a black soft top.  Michael laughed and said that we got a better deal for the Chevy than we’d expected.  That was an understatement.  The car’s air conditioner, power steering and stereo were all shot, yet we got a good deal above the blue book value.  Michael snickered and said that Grandpa may have had a hand in that.

After the long reading was finished, Marti showed me the picture she’d sketched.  I admit that I was disappointed not to recognize the face.  I had hoped for one of my grandparents, or at least my Puddy Tat.  Instead, I got this pleasant, round-faced, older gentleman.  I had to tell them I didn't know who it was.  However, Michael said it wasn't for me.  The picture was for my dad.  The man was an old Navy buddy of his from WWII.  His name was Gary or Cary or something to that effect.  I took the photo to my father several weeks later to show him.  He didn't recognize the man off the bat, but said there was “sincere familiarity” to the picture.  Then, he told me of a WWII shipmate of his who had just died and he had visited with the widow recently to share pictures of when they were on their ship together.  The man’s name was Harry.  Since Dad hadn't seen him since they were eighteen years old, he couldn't identify him, but he had a feeling.  In the least, Dad thought the picture might be Eisenhower!  I asked, “Did you know Eisenhower?”  Dad said, “Not personally.”  Well, Dad, that’s not how it works!

All in all, it was a wonderful reading with Michael and Marti.  I’m astounded by their connection to the other side and the way they work together.  They are definitely the real deal.  Their readings are not vague or guessing in nature, nor are they applicable to just anyone.  The information is specific and detailed.  I recommend to anyone, if you have the chance to sit and get a reading, nab it.  You won’t regret it.