Sunday, October 21, 2012

My Angel Experience

By Shawne Patrill

I’ve always believed in angels, since I was a kid.  I didn’t know exactly why, but I supposed I associated them with Chrismassy things and happy times.  But the one and only time that I’ve actually had an ‘angelic experience’ wasn’t such a happy occasion.  In fact, it was the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had.  But I do know that I was saved that day.

I hadn’t had my license for long, but I was a competent driver (or so I thought).  The accident wasn’t entirely my fault, but in the craziness of moment I didn’t know what was up and what was down.  I didn’t even know where I was.  All I knew was that there was a lot of commotion going on outside my upside down car, and I could hear sirens getting closer and closer.  I don’t remember much because everything was blurring and foggy and I seemed to be falling in and out of consciousness.  I could smell something burning and felt heat around me.  The sirens were getting closer, but I could feel myself slipping away. 

All of a sudden I felt a presence beside me.  I couldn’t see it clearly ... it was more of a feeling or something I thought I was seeing in my mind’s eye.  At first I thought I was imagining it, but it felt so real.  I tried to focus on the presence and started to see the outline of what I thought was a person.  In my clear mind I knew I’d been in the car alone, but I could sense and almost see a figure next to me, somehow hanging in the air of my upside down wreckage.

I heard a voice, outside of myself but in my mind, somehow.  It was soft and melodic and it kept reassuring me that I would be okay ... that all would be ok.  The voice kept telling me to hold on and believe that I would live.  I felt a calmness envelope me, and although it seemed to be getting hotter inside my car and I could feel pain in my legs and lower back, I just knew I would survive.  I knew without a doubt that I would make it through this.  I must have blacked out at that point because the next thing I remembered was coming to in the ambulance.  I had tubes and machines all around me and couldn’t breathe properly and I started to panic and hyperventilate, my heart beating erratically.

I looked up at the paramedic tending to me and focused on his face.  But behind him I could see (or at least I thought I could see) beautiful colours, like a rainbow kind of.  I felt something brush against my face, stroking gently like whispy feathers and I just knew I’d be okay.  

5 months later I was discharged from hospital, but had another six months of rehabilitation ahead of me.  I never saw the angel again, but I will never forget it.

By Shawne Patrill

The Hospice Angel

Contributed by Nina Wheeler

My Dad had been battling cancer for six years and we all knew that he was in his final days.  My family (my Mother, sister Kerry, brother Andy and myself) were crowded into the tiny hospice room, morbidly glancing from one set of eyes to the next, no one really knowing what to say or do.

My mother needed a break to stretch her legs.  She’d been sitting at dad’s bedside through the night.  Andy lead her outside to the gardens for a breather, my sister Kerry following suit right behind them.

Looking around the silent, darkened room, it was just me and Dad.  I sat quietly staring at the frail, weak and sickly man who had once been so strong and vibrant.  He had battled so hard for so long, determined to defy the vile disease.  But it had him beat and it was only a matter of time now.

Dad let out a long, heavy sigh and gingerly lifted a hand and reached towards something (or someone) I couldn’t see.  I stared in fascination and felt riveted to my chair.  Staring intently, I began to see the outline of a figure standing next to my father’s bed.  I blinked a couple of times, not believing my own eyes  -  but I knew I could see a figure becoming clearer and clearer as I watched on.  I could vaguely make out a shimmering glow around the figure, although it was kind of transparent and seemed to be a bright white but with colours.  It was an incredible sight and I sat transfixed for what seemed like an age, although logically I knew it was only a matter of moments.

I heard footsteps approaching in the hallway and glanced at the door as it opened.  My brother, sister and mother bustled back into the room.  I glanced back at my father’s bed, and the Angel was gone  -  and so had my father, leaving only the shell of who he had been behind.  His battle was now over and he was finally out of pain and at peace.

I never mentioned the Angel to anyone, but I thanked her silently for guiding my Dad over to the Other Side.

Contributed by Nina Wheeler

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Angelic Communication Saved Her Life


Hello.  I would like to share this so that others who may doubt might believe that Angels are real and that when we ask for guidance and even protection they will assist.

I Lost my partner of fifteen years some four years ago in a very sudden and tragic death.  Her spirit was released from her body while I held her in my arms. 

About six month ago I was deep into meditation laying flat in my bed using headphones and a guided meditation.  I had lit an incense and also a candle.  I placed the lit candle in the window sill.  Two feet above the candle hung a bamboo shade.  I measured the distance mentally and decided it was safe and just fine.  

About fifteen minutes into meditation I hear a faint knocking.  I assumed my son must be in the house and was banging around and ignored it not wanting to break my empty mindset and sense of peace.  It was so very faint as if I heard some far of echo.  I noticed the noise again , a louder knocking and then louder still so that I was completely distracted and opened my eyes.  The room was full of smoke.  I could not see anything.  I was a bit out of it and dazed but was aware enough to rush to the bedroom window , pull the now burning blind down from the window and throw it out the door.  My back door thankfully is just outside my bedroom and down a short hall.  Once that was out I opened windows, and so forth to air out the room.  I noticed I was shaking now.  I waited a while for all the smoke to clear and stared at the smouldering window blind now laying out in my back yard.  

Finally I decided to just lay down and do some breathing, calming excercises as I had become quite unnerved by all this.  I began to wonder what the knocking was, where it had come from.  My son who was out visiting friends had not returned home and I was indeed there alone.  Furthermore, the knocking appeared to be coming from the window just behind the bed.  It was more than a knock by the time I awakened to it , it was a LOUD BANGING.. bang, bang, bang, bang!!   I lay in my bed watching the ceiling fan go round and round.  A single bulb swung from it.  Suddenly the light began to flicker while the fan stopped.  The fan switch had not been touched.  The fan proceeded to die down to a stop and the light went completely out.  I was laying in the dark with only the moon shining in the window to provide a slight shadow of light.  As I lay in silence by now KNOWING that 'someone' had woke me up , had continued to create loud noise in order to get my full attention and refused to let me alone until I took notice.  Someone... saved my life.   As I’m thinking these thoughts I am begin to hear another noise, a creaking of sorts near the ceiling fan and then suddenly a crash.  My registered this almost immediately and then from the mirror on the wall a photo of my passed on partner that was stuck along the frame of it, floated to the floor landing just next to a now shattered lightbulb that apparently unscrewed itself!  I lay back in bed thanking my partner for her protection and love even from the 'other side'. 

I am very blessed. 


Carla Curlee

Gypsy Psychic Services

Highly skilled Psychic Readings by appointment online

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Signs from Above

My name is Cheryl and I must tell you of an experience, one among many.  One Sunday morning a friend I had invited to church, came by my house to walk to church with Me, only I had no intentions of going.  I told Him I'd meet Him there. He said He'd wait.  So we were walking myself, I was J-walking and exactly in my path at the end of my foot lay a receipt with a dollar bill sticking out.  I picked it up, looked around to see who may have dropped it.  But when I opened the receipt; $21.00!!!  We walked on, I with my hands raised, eyes closed and praising G-d.   And SUDDENLY the brakes were put on in the Spirit. We both stopped and immediately I said, "Where did that come from?"  While my friend was thinking the same.  A squirrel APPEARED OUT OF....NOWHERE LITERALLY.   I knew then praise opens etherial doors and windows of heaven.

From Cheryl

Thursday, April 12, 2012


* Submitted by Carol Kastelic

I spent the weekend down at my friend Deanna’s place in Belgrave, Victoria early last year, and vowed that I’d never visit her again ... unless she moved house.

She was quite unfazed about the noise in the night and the visitor to my room when we spoke of it after my first night’s stay.  In fact, she pretty much scolded me for being a ‘scaredy-cat’ and told me there was ‘nothing to be afraid of’.

Nothing to be afraid of!!  Rubbish!!

I’d headed off to bed at about 10pm, and within the first ten minutes or so I’d heard footsteps walking towards my bedroom door.  Assuming it was Deanna I’d called out for her to come in, but there was silence.  A moment later the footsteps walked right up to my bed, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything and the door hadn’t opened or closed.  I felt distinctly that someone (or something) was standing right next to where I was lying.  A shiver went right through me and I clicked on the bedside lamp to double-click that I was alone in the room.   There was no one and nothing to be seen.  But still I had an eerie feeling of being watched.

I dreaded to believe that I’d just been hearing things because I was so worn out from my long trip down from Dubbo, so I snapped off the light and snuggled down under the warm doona ready to drift off to sleep.
Next thing I knew I felt something (or someone) sit on the bed near my feet.  I distinctly felt pressure on the bed, and just froze on the spot.  I didn’t want to look  -  I didn’t want to know about it.  I just felt scared stiff  -  beyond scared  -  totally petrified.

I wanted to scream but nothing would come out.  Not only that, but somehow I was too scared to even make a sound, let along scream.  I held my breath instead for what seemed like forever.  Then all of a sudden the pressure released at the foot of the bed and whatever it was got up and walked back out the door  -  or rather  - through the door.

I just lay there frozen on the spot, too scared to move, and by then, too scared to sleep.  I lay awake for what seemed like hours.  

Eventually I summoned the courage to get up out of bed to get myself a drink and go to the loo  -  which I quickly regretted once out in the dark hallway.  I fumbled around searching for the light switch on the wall, but instead something/someone grabbed my hand.  I just about jumped out of my skin and screamed like a banshee.  The light flicked on at the other end of the hallway as Deanna didn’t bat an eyelid.  She told me not to worry about it  - it was just ‘Fred’.  

Fred!??  Yep, Fred  -  her resident ghost!

Apparently he’d been around for years;  and according to her, her next door neighbour knew all about it and had told her that he’d been hanging around for at least 20 years or so.

That didn’t help me at all  -  not one little bit!

We enjoyed our day together, Deanna and I doing touristy things in the Dandenong Ranges, visiting little boutique shops and enjoying a delightful picnic lunch amongst the gum trees and fern trees in the lush green setting of Sherbrook Forest.  At the end of the day though, I was loathe to return to Deanna’s home.  I’d be leaving the following day, but didn’t really look forward spending another night in that house.

Pulling up in the driveway, Deanna sensed my trepidation and assured me yet again that there was nothing to be afraid of.  I didn’t like the idea of another encounter with ‘Fred’, Deanna’s resident ghost, and I hoped the night would pass uneventfully.

All seemed to be going well, and by the time we’d finished dinner I’d relaxed.  I’d almost forgotten about ‘Fred’ as we drank some wine and laughed about old times.

A little tipsy by bedtime I was happy to go off the bed, looking forward to a good night’s sleep.  All seemed to be going to plan and I drifted off without a care in the world.

At around 2am though, I was woken by the sound of someone walking around the room and rifling through my open suitcase.  In my sleepy stupor I assumed it was Deanna looking for something.

I asked her what she was looking for, but got no reply.  All was silent.  I was certain someone was in my room, but couldn’t see anything or anyone.  Then I remembered about ‘Fred’ and felt a sense of dread from head to toe.  I just lay there not wanting to move an inch.

After what seemed like an age, I turned the bedside lamp on.  There was nothing and no one to be seen, but I still felt as though someone was in the room with me.  Just as the thought went through my mind the light beside me snapped off and all was dark again.  The rummaging sound started up again, but rather than becoming scared I actually got quite angry.  I threw back the doona, grabbed my robe and stomped off towards Dee’s room.  There was no way I’d be sleeping in that room.  I’d had enough.

I made Deanna scoot over and got into bed beside her.  She roused briefly and chuckled when I told her that ‘Fred’ had paid me another visit.  I heard faint footsteps walking down the hallway towards Deanna’s room, but decided that I wouldn’t let it bother me this time.  I hunkered down under the warm blankets and promptly fell back to sleep.

If anything else happened that night, I certainly wasn’t aware of it.

The following morning Deanna admitted to me that I’d been sleeping in ‘Fred’s old bedroom.  Great.

I was so glad to leave her house that day, and like I said earlier, I won’t be going back there again as much as I love my friend Deanna.  I just hope she decides to move house soon, or she can come and visit with me instead.

*  Submitted by Carol Kastelic

Saturday, April 7, 2012


* By Noelene Green

My Aunt Kathleen had the most hideous antique clock that sat pride of place in the middle of her mantel piece above the old gas heater in her loungeroom.

I’d always joked with her about how ugly it was and she’d rib me in return, promising that she’d leave it to me in her will.

As it turned out, Aunt Kathleen hadn’t been joking ...

I was backpacking through Europe and had stopped off in London for a week or so when I got the email from my mum, telling me that my favourite aunty had died in her sleep the night before.  The funeral was to be held the following Wednesday at 3.00 o’clock, so I made arrangements to be home in Australia in time.  My flight from Heathrow airport was due to leave at 3.00 the following afternoon.
I felt sad that Aunt Kathleen had passed over, but I also felt a sense of relief as I knew that she’d been suffering for some months prior to her death.

Her funeral was a bit of a circus as it turned out, but that was just the way she would have liked it.  Amongst the tears there was much laughter as we all spoke of Aunt Kath’s antics and adventures over the years.

The following Friday after her funeral, the family gathered at Aunt Kathleen’s home to sort through her belongings.  We all knew that meticulously organized Aunt Kath had put labels on all of her personal possessions, denoting who got what.

As it turned out, Aunt Kathleen’s ghastly antique clock had been left to lucky me.

As I gingerly packed the horrid old clock in my car it chimed 3 times, signalling that it was 3 o’clock on the dot.  Aunt Kath had always been a stickler about having the clock set at precisely the correct time.

Once home I placed Aunt Kath’s clock on a side-table in my loungeroom.  I would have preferred to hide it at the back of a wardrobe somewhere, or better still, not in my home at all, but out of love and respect for Aunt Kathleen I put it out on display.  

The clock didn’t make a sound again until 3.00 o’clock in the morning.  I heard it from my bedroom because it seemed to be so loud that it had woken me up.  I thought it odd that the dreadful old clock only seemed to chime at 3.00 o’clock day and night, but never at any other time.  I decided not to question it though and promptly fell back to sleep.

Two weeks after Aunt Kathleen’s funeral my mother dropped by for lunch, bearing old photos and assorted knick-knacks belonging to Aunt Kathleen.  The hours flew by as we chatted away catching up on who was doing what within the family.  At 3.00 o’clock Aunt Kathleen’s hideous old clock chimed 3 times.

Both Mum and I turned to look at the clock sitting boldly on the table.   We both commented on how ugly it was and chuckled about Aunt Kath bequeathing it to me as she’d always threatened to.  I told Mum that it only ever chimed at 3.00 o’clock day and night, but at no other time.

Mum looked at me with a surprised look on her face and reminded me that number 3 had been Aunt Kathleen’s favourite number.  It was the time she’d been born (on the 3rd of March), it was the time she’d chosen to marry, the time she’d diligently taken her daily afternoon nap, the time of her funeral, and also the time she had died.

A shiver ran through me when she’d told me the last piece of information.  I hadn’t known that part.  I knew Aunt Kathleen had passed in her sleep, but I hadn’t realized that 3.00 o’clock had been the exact time that she’d died.

I again turned to stare at the old clock, intrigued yet comforted in a strange kind of way.

I’ve kept the old clock on display in my loungeroom ever since, and it doesn’t seem so ugly to me anymore.  It still only chimes 3 times at 3.00 o’clock day and night.  Hearing it makes me think of my Aunt Kathleen, and I like to think that it is her, saying hello from beyond.

* True Story contributed by Noelene Green



Saturday, March 24, 2012

My Aunty Had a Ghost in her House

My aunty had a ghost in her house that used to bang on the walls and you could hear it walking around at night.  It was pretty creepy and me and my sister never liked staying at her place when we were kids.  It never bothered her though and she said that she felt that the ghost was care-taking the house when she was out, because she never got broken into or anything like that, and she lived in a pretty rough area of town.  She believed it was the ghost of the old lady that had lived in the house before her.

When me and my sister used to stay there on the holidays sometimes we used to hear footsteps in our room at night and sometimes in the kitchen you could hear the drawers open and close and sometimes the cupboards would open and close on their own.

Contributed by Terri Cason

Thursday, March 22, 2012


We’d lived in Melbourne all of my life, but at the age of 17 my parents decided to have a ‘Tree Change’ and we moved to a tiny country town in North East Victoria.  After six months or so I got myself a job at the local General Store; a very old heritage listed building.

On my first day of work the owners Peter and Michelle left me to do the lunch orders out in the back kitchen.  As I got to work cooking up burgers and chips, I got the distinct feeling that I wasn’t alone.  I felt eyes on me and looked around.  But no one was there and I was alone.  I shrugged off the feeling and got back to work.  After 10 minutes or so I felt someone nudge me in the upper arm.  It was so hard that it kind of shoved me sideways a bit.  Again, no one was in the old kitchen with me.

The next day I was serving at the front counter and heard the bell at the door tinkle.  I looked over by no one had gone in or out.  I shook off the creepy feeling and continued working, thinking to myself that I must have imagined it.

Later that same week I was stacking shelves while Michelle served customers.  Once the lunch rush was over Michelle asked me if I’d seen or heard anything ‘strange’ since I’d started work there.  I told her about being shoved in the kitchen on my first day, and hearing the bell at the door chime for no reason.  Michelle smiled and nodded while I spoke.  She then went on the tell me that since they’d bought the place five years earlier both she and Peter had had many different experiences, all of the ghostly kind.

For example, sometimes the shop’s door handle would turn and the door would open, but no one would come in.  The bell at the door would ring by itself.  Old-fashioned floral perfume could sometimes be smelled at different spots in the shop and at different times of the day.  Everyone who’d worked there had felt a presence in the kitchen, with many being touched, nudged or shoved.  Footsteps could be heard walking over the creaky floorboards when no customers were in the shop.  Things would be moved around the shop from day to day, including stock on shelves, cooking supplies and even the small tables and chairs moved around in the ‘cafe’ section of the shop.  Voices could be heard coming from the back store room, but on one would be in there.  The lights would sometimes flicker and go dim then bright again at different times of the day and for no apparent reason.

Over the next two years that I worked at the General Store I experienced all of those things  –  and more.  I never really felt scared or in any danger at any time  -  but it certainly was creepy and I’ll never forget it.

Story submitted by Karly Stevens