When I said in an earlier post I wasn’t an unusual child but sensitive and open to all, what I meant was – that I may have been a little peculiar, I’m not sure I know the best way to explain it – I was spiritual! When I was very young I spoke to people that others couldn’t see; intrigued, yet petrified by ghosts; and when I was tired, I’d hear voices in my head which scared me. I’m not talking about schizophrenia voices but it was the only way I could explain it. It was a weird buzzing, static and noises like voices. I’ve had them twice since I’ve been an adult and can only explain it now as a feeling of being outside my head, static, and a fullness – an extreme state of tiredness. I’m not sure if there are voices, as such, but either way I hate the feeling it produces!
I can’t remember how old I was exactly but I was younger that nine years of age. I’d caught measles or German measles for the third time. Mum was on holiday in Spain with her man and my nan and grandad whilst my sister and I stayed with our dad for two or three weeks.
I remember walking into the front room, looking into the mirror of the wardrobe, which wasn’t actually used as a wardrobe but to store books that gramps had purchased from Readers Digest. I believe I had a sore throat so went to check but instead noticed a few spots on my forehead. When I checked my belly, I was covered.
Either that evening or the following evening I was struck with a fever. On this particular occasion it brought with it hallucinations. I remember my sister standing towards the end of the bed or hanging over the edge of the bunk bed asking what the matter with me was whilst my dad sat beside me wiping my forehead with a wet flannel.
I scared them. I was reeling of my visions of angels floating into the room from a bright light which was shining under the bedroom door while they carried paintings of portraits. I can partially remember the sight, yet can not recall exactly what they looked like or of whom the paintings were. I’m not sure but I believe I was, at a time, crying and asking my dad to make them stop – to go away. As expected, my dad was extremely concerned and worried for my life but eventually the fever subsided along with my visions.