Ghosts Among Us - James Van Praagh [68]
It was about seven in the evening, and ten of us were squeezed together in the small back bedroom of Brian’s modest bungalow on Irving Place in Hollywood. Because Leslie was a physical “direct voice” medium, the room had to be completely void of light in order for the ectoplasm to manifest. I remember sitting on one of the couches with a man to my right and a woman on my left. It was the middle of the summer, so the heat of the day was still holding tight in the room.
Brian turned off all the lights, and I was immediately transported back to my childhood when we would sit in a tent in our basement and exchange ghost stories, each one scarier than the last. As an adult, I found it somehow even stranger to be sitting in total darkness waiting for ghosts. This was the real thing, and it was extremely uncomfortable. All I could hear was the sound of people breathing, waiting for a ghost to make contact. We made small talk for the next twenty minutes as the ectoplasm slowly and delicately emerged from Leslie’s nose and mouth, creating an artificial larynx. Suddenly I felt an extreme chill around my neck, and it moved down my leg. I shivered, not from the unexpected cold, but more for what it represented. Other people felt it too.
Someone said, “Did you feel that chill?”
Another person uttered, “Did you hear that?”
I quickly moved my head from one side to the other.
“Has anyone seen a ghost?” I asked.
“No, not yet,” several people responded in chorus.
All of a sudden a high-pitched piercing sound ripped through the air, causing some of us to jump off the couch in fright. Then a voice screamed out to us in the dark.
Can you hear me now? It was the distinct cockney accent of Mickey, Leslie’s spirit guide. Mickey was a newspaper boy in the early 1900s. He was hit by a horse and buggy and died. Mickey was Leslie’s control who organized the ghosts who were going to speak to us.
From the center of the ceiling, I could hear Mickey’s voice. Hey, is that you, Ursula? You’re a funny one, you are!
“Thank you, Mickey. I’m so glad that I amuse you,” Ursula responded.
What? he shouted back.
“I am happy you find me amusing,” she repeated.
Oh, I find you amusing all right! Ha!
Mickey was extremely loud. We were in such a small room that his voice seemed to bellow like a circus barker.
Leslie remarked, “Mickey seems to have quite a bit of energy this particular evening.”
Meanwhile, I was in awe of the whole situation. I was definitely on a wild ride into the unknown, and the experience was one of those rare ones that happen only once in a lifetime.
Mickey made a personal comment to each person in the room. When he came to me, he exclaimed, Yes, you are James. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a psychic?
“Yes, they have, Mickey,” I nervously shouted back.
Without missing a beat, he shrieked, Well, then, what are you doing about it?
“I am sitting in a development circle,” I responded, and he was off.
It was such a startling experience that I had to take a moment to gather in what had just happened. When I realized that the spirit voice was real, I started to shake and perspire.
Mickey brought through several other speakers who wanted to connect with someone in the crowd. I sat there hoping that someone I knew would come through and I could prove once and for all that what I was hearing was real.
Then it happened. A French male voice called, Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I want to speak to James. I want to speak to James.
I almost fell over. Who in the world was this French man, and what was he going to say to me?
James, you are a sensitive, a psychic, a creative person. You know, when I was in your world, I too